When Temptation Burns: A Shadow Keepers Novel (Shadow Keepers 6) (28 page)

“Andy!” Doyle’s voice, along with a sharp pounding at the front door of her house.

“Doy—” She cried out, but Creevey clapped his hand over her mouth before she could fully get the word out. He wouldn’t know. He’d knock and she wouldn’t answer,
and he’d leave, and even if he thought to come back later, she’d be dead, and—

Crash!

The echo of splintering wood filled the tiny house.

Creevey was off her in a second, and she watched as he slipped through the open window that had been his entryway. An instant later, Doyle was at her side, and she was clinging to him, tears flowing freely.

Someone else rushed past, and she realized that it was Tucker, and he was climbing through the window in pursuit. But she couldn’t think about that now, didn’t even care. All that mattered was that Doyle was there and that he was real and that he was holding her.

“I heard your cry. Dear God, I could smell your fear.”

“You came. I wanted you, and you came.” She clung to him, holding him tight, finding it impossible to believe that he was real.

Gently, he pushed her away, then pulled up the sheet so that she could clutch it tight over her nightgown. “Did he hurt you? Did he—”

“He didn’t get that far.” She shuddered. “But he touched me.” She felt the hot tears stream down her face. “He—”

“Shhh. It’s okay. You don’t have to tell me.”

“I’m so sorry,” she said.

“You don’t have anything to be sorry about.”

“Not about him. About you. I was scared. I shouldn’t have been scared of you.” She drew in a breath, thinking about everything her father believed, everything she’d seen. She loved her dad, but he was wrong. Doyle wasn’t evil. He
fought
evil. And so help her, she wanted to be right by his side.

“I don’t know what you are,” she said. “Not really.
But I’m not scared anymore.” She brushed her lips over his. “I’m not scared at all.”

Paul watched as Bryce paced the length of the training floor in the Mojave bunker. Behind them, a half-dozen men were working out on the mat. In an hour, formal training would begin. They’d captured a new female, and they were planning to let her loose on the soldiers.

The men, Paul was certain, would show the little bitch just how powerful a human could be.

In front of him, Bryce stopped. “I’m short a man now,” he snapped. “Was it really necessary to take Aaron out?”

“He was bitten,” Paul said. “He would have changed.”

“Not until the next full moon,” Bryce countered. “We could have used him until then.”

“We couldn’t guarantee his continued loyalty,” Paul said. “Once someone’s crossed that line, eradication is essential.”

Bryce nodded. “Yes, yes. I know. But dammit, Aaron was a good soldier.”

“We have Doyle to take up the slack.”

“We could postpone the mission,” Bryce said.

“Not an option, and you damn well know why. Besides, we’re almost ready. We have the ordnance, we have a plan, we have an exceptional team—which will be even better with Doyle on it. Soon we’ll have the location. A day of reconnaissance and we’ll be ready to go.”

Bryce didn’t look happy.

“Am I to understand you need more time?”

“My team is set. I don’t need Doyle.”

“You’re wrong to distrust him,” Paul said.

“Perhaps you’re wrong to trust him so easily.”

Paul tamped down the irritation that flared within him. Certain things were nonnegotiable with him, and saving somebody’s life was cause for undeniable loyalty. He had no intention of breaking that code. Nor did he have any intention of explaining himself yet again to his subordinate. “This discussion is over. I’m going to look in on Travis’s progress.”

He crossed the room, stopping outside a hematite door with a small porthole-style window. He peered in the window. Travis was sitting in a chair across from the male vampire, who had a collar around his neck. One of the soldiers stood near, holding the collar’s control.

“Again,” the soldier said. “Compel him to dance.”

“This little prick doesn’t have the brains to withstand what I can do,” the vamp said. “You’re wasting my time. And you’re pissing me off.”

“Strong words from a neutered vamp,” the soldier said, and he pressed a button on the control box. Immediately, the vampire’s body went into convulsions. Paul smiled. Electricity was his strongest weapon against the vampires. It didn’t kill them, but it definitely slowed them down. Even better, it had proven to be useful against all manner of creatures. Paul patted the Taser in his pocket; he’d learned to always be prepared.

He closed the porthole, confident that the soldier would convince the vampire to continue with Travis’s training. At this point, though, Paul was beginning to think the vamp was right. Perhaps Travis’s politician’s mind simply wasn’t designed to withstand compulsion.

One of the soldiers from the training floor jogged over
to him. “Sir, I’ve been asked to inform you that a visitor is being escorted to your office.”

“Creevey,” Paul said, glancing at his watch. “And he’s here with time to spare.”

Kyle Creevey followed the uniformed pretty boy into the bunker. At first, he hadn’t believed the bullshit story about the poison. He’d brushed it off, not much caring if it was true or not, because he was going to get turned, and poison couldn’t do shit to you if you were already dead.

Then the fucking fangers had gone and flat-out denied him, which had really got him riled. Got him needing a release. Got him needing a kill.

He’d wanted to kill one of the vamps, but it would have been too dangerous to try. He wanted to live long enough to find a vamp willing to change him.

So he did the next best thing and started working his way down his list, starting with the very top name.

Woulda worked, too. Woulda taken the edge off if his little party with Andrea-Fucking-Tarrent hadn’t been interrupted.

He’d barely gotten out of there without being caught. Then he’d raced down the road on the Harley those fuck-ass soldiers had given him so he could get to the club and back to their safe house. As the wind whipped around him, he’d felt the familiar rage stirring inside him. The kind that made him stronger. Only this time, he felt sick, even a little dizzy.

And that’s when he remembered the poison. When he got to the safe house, they’d tossed him in a car and
drove him here, to the fucking desert. So now here he was, staring at the guy who’d fucked him up in the first place, along with some other asshole he’d never seen before. “Who the fuck are you?”

“You can call me Paul,” the man said. “I believe you have some information for us?”

“You got an antidote for me?”

Paul looked over at the other guy—Kyle never had learned his name. “How much time left?”

“Twelve hours.”

“We have plenty of time to bargain,” Paul said. “Give us the information, and we’ll give you the antidote.”

“I don’t have it,” Kyle admitted.

“That’s a pity. Bryce, would you escort Mr. Creevey out?”

“But I can get it,” Kyle said. “Or rather, I know how you can get it.”

“I’m listening.”

“The vamps,” he said. “Capture one. Torture one. I’ll happily help you do it.” Oh, yeah, he would. “You jack them up fill of this shit called hematite, and they’ll start rattling off whatever they know.”

“We’ve tried that,” Paul said. “We routinely capture vampires. We use them to train our men,” he added, and Kyle had to admit he was impressed. “It’s our policy to interrogate every captive. So far, none have given us the location for the creatures’ center of operations. They were either extremely well conditioned, or they knew nothing.”

“That a fact?” Kyle shifted his weight, mulling over his options. He wanted the damn antidote. He also wanted the vamps who’d shot him down to suffer. If he could manage to do both, that would be sweet.

“It is a fact. One that’s been particularly troublesome. If you can help us out here, it would be worth the antidote. If you can’t … well, I can’t say it was nice knowing you.”

“I think maybe we can work something out,” Kyle said.

“Is that so? And what do you suggest?”

“There’s a particular vampire I know of,” he said. “She’s been inside their headquarters. You want a location? Capture her.”

Her lips were soft beneath his, and Doyle held her tight for almost an hour, tasting her, holding her, the horrible fear fading now that she was safe in his arms.

He heard a throat clearing and he reluctantly broke their kiss, turning his head to look at his partner. “Creevey?”

“Bastard got away,” Tucker said. “Had a motorcycle.” He lashed out, smashing his fist down on the windowsill. “Shit.”

It was the kind of reaction Doyle himself would have had except that right now nothing mattered to him except for the woman in his arms. The world would start up again soon enough. For now, he needed these few minutes.

“Head on over to the office,” Doyle said. “Have tech fire up the traffic cams. See if they can chart a path. Pull his file and see if we can figure out where he’d hole up.”

“Creevey’s not technically our case.”

“I’m making it our case,” he snapped.

“I’ll take care of the paperwork.” Tucker looked at Andy, his eyes soft. “Do you still want me to …”

“No,” Doyle said, hoping he was making the right decision. “Not now.”

Tucker nodded. “I’ll be in touch.”

As soon as Tucker was gone, Doyle stood. “You should get dressed. I’ll make you some hot tea. And then we’ll talk.”

She nodded, the sheet clutched around her. He paused in the doorway to look at her, so small and vulnerable on the king-sized bed, and he felt rage build up inside of him. A killing rage—and there was only one man he wanted to take it out on.

The PEC had to find the bastard, because Doyle wanted blood.

A few moments later she padded into the kitchen. She was wearing threadbare jeans, a T-shirt, and no shoes. She sat down at the breakfast table, one foot tucked under her, and curled her hands around the tea he’d fixed for her.

“What was Tucker asking you about? He asked if you still wanted him to do something.”

Doyle considered not telling her, but he changed his mind. This was the time for brutal honesty. “I came over here so that Tucker could wipe your memory.”

She sat back, her eyes going wider. “Really. Wow. Why?”

“You know what I am. I couldn’t risk you telling Paul.” He sat down opposite her. “Have you told Paul?”

“No. Honestly, it didn’t even occur to me. He’s not … he doesn’t really understand what he thinks he’s fighting, does he?”

“No.”

“So I get to keep my memory?” The words were serious, but her expression was playful.

He stayed serious. “Are you sure you want it? I won’t lie, Andy. What you said—about not being scared, about wanting me with you—it was everything I wanted to hear. But you were terrified. Creevey was—”

“No,” she said firmly. “This has nothing to do with Creevey. It’s just you and me.” She drew in a long breath.
“I did a lot of thinking. I did more than thinking, actually.”

He shifted, suddenly on alert. “What do you mean?”

“I’m a reporter, remember? I poked around.”

He looked at her, still not understanding. “Poked around? Where? And why?”