Trust Me When the Sun Goes Down (19 page)

I was glad six hundred and eighty channels were stretching her horizons in some positive way.  “Where should we go?  You weren’t serious about Modesto, were you?”

“Why not?”

“Because the sky’s the limit, my treat.”  Nothing against the town, but I figured we could do better. 

“Yeah?  Cool.”  Bridget accepted the idea at once.  “Where should we go then?  What about Vegas?  Or shit, no… what about New York?  I’ve never been there.”

“I did pick up a house there apparently,” I considered aloud.  The city that never sleeps would always be a good option for a vampire.  But the more I thought about it, the less I wanted to deal with the political garbage involved with visiting Jennike’s territory.  “Hmm, I’d rather not step into another Elder’s home turf if we can avoid it.  I don’t want to turn this into a state visit.  Las Vegas could work though, if you like.”

“How about Hawaii?  Who owns that?”

“Technically no one, it’s an unincorporated area and not too many vamps from what I understand.  But I don’t know, that’s a lot of sun.  I was hoping for something less tropical.”

“Aw, I was looking forward to some sand.”

“Bridge, you already live on the beach.”

“I know, but that’s like…
local
sand. I was hoping for something more exotic.” 

“Exotic,” I repeated, mulling it over.  “Let me look into it.”  I reached for a fresh piece of paper and started making a new list.  “How about this – you send me your top five choices of where to go and I’ll ask Maggie and Hanna for their votes too.   Then we’ll combine the lists and see if any overlap.  Sound shiny to you?”

“Yep, that works for me.  When are we planning this trip for?”

“I’d probably need at least a week’s notice to clear my schedule unless I wanted to do some remote work while we’re gone.”

“Abso
fucking
lutely not,” Bridget demanded.  “No work on girls’ weekend, that’s the law.  I can wait a week, no problem.  It’ll give me some time to shop once we decide where we’re going.  Hey, what if we went somewhere cold?  Do you think my ass would look fat in snow pants?”

“I think your ass would look
fantastic
in snow pants,” I grinned.  “I’ll talk to you soon.”  Still smiling over the exchange with Bridget, my smile stretched wider as Rob strolled into my office. 

“Why are you going on about Bridget’s ass now?  Is there something I should know?”  He cocked a single brow at me.  Looking sharp in a suit and tie, I figured he had a meeting set up and was using one of the offices. 

“Hey, great timing, I was about to call you.”  I hopped up to give him a kiss and his arm wrapped around my waist.

“That’s what I like to hear.”  His lips covered mine in a much more thorough kiss that left me breathless.  “What’s this all about then?”

It took me a few seconds to get my wits about me and remember what I’d wanted to talk about.  “Oh, right.  Listen, I was thinking about taking a weekend away with the girls for a little fun.  Bridget needs some cheering up and I think it would be good for Maggie and Hanna to come too.  What do you think?”

“I think it sounds like a grand idea, you could do with a break.  With the understanding that I’ll be going as well.”

He had that look about him, the one stubborn, inflexible one that intimidated most people (okay, me too a bit).  “It’s a girls’ weekend though, and you’re a guy, so…”

“And you’re not a regular girl by half, you know that well enough,” he said patiently, but unbending on his point.  “I’ll stay out of it as much as I can, I’ll even room by m’self, but I’ll need to be nearby in case you need me.”

That didn’t sound too unreasonable.  Mostly I was just glad he wanted to tag along at all.  I’d been half afraid he would shrug and ask me to let him know when I got back.  Okay, so I know that wasn’t fair.  I didn’t doubt Rob’s love, I only wished his attention wasn’t so split these days. 

“Fair enough,” I smiled.  “Are you sure you want to come with though?  You’re likely to be subjected to a lot of anti-man propaganda and slurs along the way.”  I could imagine with the mood Bridget was in, and Hanna wasn’t too keen on men lately either.

This time he did shrug.  “Don’t make no nevermind to me what they think of men, long as I have you to warm my bed.”  Technically I didn’t warm anything, but the sentiment deserved a kiss, which I provided. 

“Hey, maybe we should think about getting away ourselves for a weekend sometime?  Just the two of us.”

“Yeah?”  His brows rose with interest.  “Like where?”

“Anywhere you want.  I’m not picky as long as we’re together.”

“Why not stay home then and send everyone else packing?  Close up the drapes and turn off the phones and pretend we’re all alone in the world.”

“That has distinct possibilities,” I allowed.  “But don’t you ever want to get out and see the world?  Travel to new places?”

“I’ve seen my fair share of it.” Rob dismissed the idea with little interest.  “Tagged along at Jakob’s heels for longer than I’d have liked.  It’s all the same after a while.”

I’d forgotten about that.  “You don’t have any favorite places?”

“Course I do, but I’ve already brung you to one of them back home, and like I said, it’s all the same to me as long as I’m with you.”

“I think I’ll take staying home as a romantic notion then,” I smiled, reaching for my cell when it buzzed from the desk. 

My smile dimmed as I read the message from ‘Kato’, my silly listing for Carter’s number.
We’ve got a problem.

“Problem?” Rob asked, his gaze dropping to the screen and I turned it off, setting the phone aside.

“Nah, not really.  Just a local who’s a bit of a complainer.  I should probably get to him before he makes a mountain out of a molehill though.”

“It’s just as well, I’ve got a man to see about weapons permits.” 

“See you later?”

“Count on it.”  He gave me one of those half smiles and left. 

I waited for a full ten seconds to make sure he didn’t come back before I reached for my phone and texted Carter back. 
What kind of a problem?  Where are you?

The reply came instantly. 
No, not safe for you here.
 

Not safe?  Frak, what was wrong now? 
What’s going on?

Pinned down.  Forget it, nothing you can do.  My own stupid fault. 

Frakety frak... 
Pinned down by who?
 
Where are you?
 

There was no reply. 

I knew Mason and those guys had the ability to track a cell phone, but if I was right, they were most likely the reason Carter was pinned down.  That left me with one other option and I pulled up Detective Mathis on my cell as I snuck out of the office. 

“I don’t have any more intel to pass on to you guys yet,” he said right off the bat.  “Whatever you’re doing, keep doing it.  There haven’t been any new deaths we can’t attribute to mundane causes.”

“No, that’s not why I’m calling.”

“Aw, I’m flattered, but I’m not into bloodsuckers.  No offense.” 

“What?  Eewh, no.  I’m calling because I need you to track a phone for me.”  I made it to the street and tried to decide if I should take one of the cars or set out on foot.  

“This isn’t
NCIS
,” he giggled, the request obviously tickling his funnybone.  “I can’t type the number into a computer and pull it up.” 

“But you can do it, right?  Someone in your department has the ability.”

“Sure, but… there’s paperwork, procedure.” 

“I need a location on a number like STAT.  It’s a matter of life and death.”  Carter’s ongoing silence continued to hammer that home for me. 

“Hey, I can’t sashay in there and cut my way to the front of the line without a warrant.  My dick doesn’t swing that heavy around here.” 

What was it about him and his junk?  “Listen to me, my friend doesn’t have that long to wait.  Tell me who to compel and I’ll be right down there to get it done, but I’m running out of time.” 

“No, don’t come down here!” he hissed.  There was a fumbling sound, and then his voice came back on the line.  “Shit.  Give me the number and I’ll see what I can do.”  I gave him Carter’s number, making him repeat it back to me.  “I’ll call you right back.”

“Great, thanks.”  I headed for the precinct on foot anyway, not sure what else to do and I couldn’t sit still.  I’d stopped trying to text Carter, figuring he must know by now I was freaking out, and if he couldn’t reply things were definitely falling into
Empire Strikes Back
territory. 

I put on a burst of speed every time the street cleared enough that I didn’t think anyone would notice, and I’d almost made it to the precinct when Mathis called back.

“The last hit was at the corner of Guerrero and 20th.  But it could’ve moved on by now, we don’t have a constant feed on their movements or anything.”

“Got it, thanks.”

“Hey, we had a report of shots fired only a couple of blocks from there.  Are you sure you should be walking into that?”

“Don’t worry, I got this.  Thanks, Mathis, I owe you one.”  I changed my direction and started south, Guererro wasn’t all that far away. 

“No, this would be number
three
,” he grumbled. 

Not in the mood to argue about who owed what to whom, I was ready to give him anything he wanted for the well timed help.  “Fine, I’ll get you season tickets to any sports team you want.  I have to go though, thanks!”

The intersection was mostly residential, with some businesses sprinkled in on the ground floors with apartments above.  From Carter’s texts, I’d expected to find police swarming or at least the Order barricading the streets with guns drawn, but the street was quiet, not even particularly busy with traffic. 

Now what? 

Going door to door seemed like a stupid idea, and I couldn’t start yelling his name for fear it might bring the wrong people running.  Instead, I forced myself to take a breath and examine the street more carefully.  If the shots fired had come from a couple of blocks away, it made sense that Carter had been able to move from wherever he’d been originally pinned down when he sent his last text.  Maybe he’d been able to get away and was down the street drinking a beer while I was chasing after him all willy nilly, but I didn’t think so.  If he hadn’t texted me back, I figured he was still close, probably laying low until the heat went away, maybe even wounded. 

So where would I go if it was me?

Sure, I could compel my way into any of the apartments, but Carter wouldn’t want to put people at risk like that if the Order or whoever had decided to aim for the bounty on his head managed to track him down.  It couldn’t be an empty apartment or he wouldn’t be able to enter without an invitation.  That meant an abandoned or empty public place. 

A quick check showed there were no abandoned buildings nearby, and what public places I could see were still open for business.  And that’s when I saw the red cross.  Not the Red Cross that works for aid in disasters, but a large red cross affixed to the front of a white stucco building down the street.  A church.  It seemed like a natural sanctuary.

I have to admit, I felt the teensiest spot of trepidation as my hand closed over the doorknob.  According to Bishop it was all superstition.  Religious artifacts, crosses, and holy water had no effect on vampires, but would actually stepping into a church burn like the sun?  Bracing myself, I crossed over the threshold and felt… nothing.  In fact, apart from an old woman clutching a rosary in front of a bank of candles, the place was deserted. 

It’d been a while since I’d visited a church, and we were never Catholic, so I was surprised at the level of artistry in the nondescript building.  Though the front of the building wasn’t particularly ornate, everything from the altar to the confessional booth and the pews themselves were elaborately carved.  Delicately sculptured reliefs depicting the stations of the cross were posted on the walls, the altar itself covered in rich fabrics and heavy candlesticks.  Leaving the doors open like that, didn’t they worry about thieving?   

At first I wasn’t sure if I had the right place.  Apart from the old lady up front, I could hear someone else puttering around elsewhere in the building, but I was willing to bet money it was the priest or whoever ran the place.  If Carter was passed out somewhere, I might never find him without breath or heartbeat to track.  But then I realized I had something else to track, duh. 

Closing my eyes, I extended my senses, breathing in the scent of wood and Lemon Pledge, the smell of molten wax from the candles and the garlic that clung to the old woman’s skin.  There was an underlying odor of mold from under the carpet by the door where water had gotten in, and I moved deeper into the church to distance myself from it. 

There it was – blood. 

Not fresh and flowing, but enough of it that it tickled my senses.  Slowly, I advanced up the aisle, looking down between each row of seats for any sign of him.  Nothing.  The smell got stronger though, and I followed the scent to the front of the church, turning my back on the old woman once I determined for sure it wasn’t coming from her direction.  My gaze fell on the confessional booth, one side for the priest, the other for the penitent.   

Only the fact that I’d been anticipating Carter reacting with violence saved me from getting shot right through the forehead, as I ducked back the instant I got the door open. 

“Whoa, it’s me!” I squeaked, cursing myself for not having called out to him first.  The old lady started yelling in Spanish, invoking Jesus, Mary, and Joseph from the sound of it as she picked up her beads and hightailed it out of there. 

“Anja?”  His voice sounded far off, like he wasn’t right in the wooden booth and when I peeped up to look, he was slumped in the corner, the gun limp in his hand. 

“Yes, it’s me, so give me that.”  I knew it would only be moments until the priest or caretaker came running or the cops were on their way, so I plucked the gun from his nerveless fingers and stuck it in my pocket.  “Come on, we have to get out of here.”

Carter blinked up at me owlishly, not moving a muscle, and I let out a long breath, reaching down to pick him up.  A groan of pain leaked from between his lips at the movement, and it soon became apparent that he wasn’t capable of taking
any
of his own weight.  I propped myself under his shoulder and half dragged, half carried him out of the confessional, worrying if I tried to fireman carry him I might make his injuries worse. 

The wail of sirens in the distance fueled my urgency as I led him through the door to the back of the church, hoping like crazy there was a back door to that place.  A small office led to an even smaller living space where a wide eyed priest made the sign of the cross once we came into view.

“You never saw us, we were never here,” I called out with a burst of compulsion, not too worried about what he might tell the cops, but more what the Order might find out from him later.  There was indeed a rear exit, the alley behind it dark and quiet. 

“Do you have a place we can go?” I asked, wishing I’d brought the car with me after all.  He didn’t reply and I gave him a shake.  “Carter.  Do you have a place around here?”  All I got out of him was a low, guttural sound as his head lolled to the side. 

I was on my own.  Cool beans on toast. 

“Alright, it’s okay.  I’ve got you,” I promised, though I was pretty sure he was beyond hearing me at that point. 

At least with him passed out, I could try and get a better hold on him before I started off again.  It wasn’t that I lacked the strength to carry him, it’s that he was so awkward and floppy, I wasn’t sure the best way to go about it without hurting him more.  In the end, I settled for cradling him in my arms like a child, tucking his head against my shoulder. 

As the sirens grew to a fever pitch, I knew exactly where to hide him.  The one place the Order would never in a bajillion years think to search for him. 

Bishop’s apartment.

* * *

Carter groaned when I set him down on Bishop’s couch and I jerked reflexively, dropping him the last few inches.  “I’m sorry!” I whispered, hating to think I’d made his pain any worse.

“Not your fault,” he murmured, his eyes sliding open a crack.

“Oh, you’re awake.”  Hopefully that was a positive sign, he sure didn’t look good.  Despite his assertion that it wasn’t my fault, I couldn’t help but think he wouldn’t be in danger in the first place if he hadn’t hung around town trying to help me clean up the place.  “I’m so sorry about this.  How bad is it?”

“Just knocked the wind out of me, I’ll be fine.  Is this your place?”

“No, it’s Bishop’s.” I held up a hand when his eyes bugged wider.  “You have to admit, it’s the absolute last place they’d look for you.”

“I guess you’re right about that,” he said, easing somewhat.  “I don’t suppose he’s got any blood in the fridge?”

“I don’t think he did the last time I was here, but I’ll check.”  The refrigerator was empty though, no blood, no juice, nothing but condiments.  “No such luck,” I called back to him.  It was clear he needed blood though, lots of it.  “Stay put, I’ll go find someone for you to feed on.  I’ll be back in a micron.”

“No, no people.”

“Carter, I get that you have principles, but this is an emergency.  I’ll make sure you don’t take too much, don’t worry.”

“No, I won’t do it.”  He coughed again, lurching forward to grab his knees as the phlegmy spasms shook his body.  I went to his side, helping him lean back on the couch again once they passed.  He sounded awful. 

“Carter, you’re badly hurt and if I show up at home to grab some bagged blood to go, it’ll raise too many questions.” 

“I’ll be fine, I just need to rest,” he wheezed, his breathing labored. 

“You’re not fine.  How many times were you hit?”  Snapping on the lights, I peeled back his dark jacket, peering at the mess of crusted blood on his chest.  Underneath the wounds had started to seep again, and I realized my shirt was liberally stained with his blood. 

“I’m not sure.  After the first few you sort of lose count,” he said, trying to play off a smile that failed miserably as he coughed, and a trickle of blood smeared across his chin as he wiped his mouth. 

For a second I thought it must look worse than it was or he wouldn’t be joking around like that, but as his eyes slid shut again, I wasn’t so sure.  On a hunch, I grabbed two of the ragged holes and tugged, splitting his shirt in two to reveal the massive damage done to his torso.  “
Wode tìan
,” I breathed.  He was right, I lost count after identifying the first half dozen bullet wounds. 

Carter winced when the shirt ripped open, but managed a wheezing chuckle.  “I think I might need a nap before I’m ready to get down with you, sunshine.  But you go ahead and get started without me.”

“Are you trying to be funny right now?  Because this isn’t funny, not one bit.  Jesus, Carter, this is bad, really bad.”  I’d never seen such violent wounds up close and personal before, it didn’t look like it did on the movies.  No neat bullet holes, the flesh surrounding them was ragged and torn like he’d hugged a grenade.  What kind of ammunition was the Order carrying these days? 

“Tell me what to do,” I begged.  “Do I need to apply pressure to stop the bleeding, or be digging out bullets or what?”  If I could get him stabilized, then maybe I could run out and find him some blood.

“No, I’m pretty sure most of ‘em went right through.”  His eyes drifted shut again.  “Just need rest and some blood.  No fresh people’s blood.”  They popped open again as he added that last, wanting to make sure I took special note of it.