Chapter 40
He'd always seen it in Zane, the desperation that would sometimes grip him when he felt he'd failed in his mission to bring those monsters to justice-monsters like Mller and Brandt. Yet he'd never breathed a word about Zane's past to anybody in the organization. n.o.body knew what Zane had been through. Even Quinn knew only the sketchiest of outlines. The rest he'd puzzled together by himself-and wished he hadn't. There was such a thing as too much information, and this particular information could turn anyone's stomach.
"Come," Samson's voice sounded from the study.
Quinn turned the antique doork.n.o.b and let himself in.
Samson wasn't alone. As expected, Gabriel was in attendance, like Samson waiting for his report on Zane's state of mind. After an obligatory shaking of hands, Quinn sat down on the comfortable armchair and looked straight at Samson.
"Glad you could join us. How was your flight?"
"As always, I was in the lap of luxury."
Samson grinned. "Yeah, we just upgraded the jet. With Delilah and the baby I wanted to make sure there's a little place for her to lie down."
"Little?" Quinn chuckled. "That bedroom suite is larger than my entire home in New York."
Gabriel rolled his eyes. "If you're angling for a pay raise, try again."
Quinn made a face. "Lucky me that I like to slum it."
Samson laughed. "Is that what they call it these days on Park Avenue?"
Quinn shrugged. "It's only a condo."
"A five thousand square foot full floor condo if I remember correctly," Gabriel added.
"In need of upgrades."
"Pleasantries aside, does Zane suspect the reason for your visit?" Samson asked.
"I don't think so. He was his usual abrasive self." Before entering the room Quinn had already made up his mind not to divulge anything about the a.s.sa.s.sin Zane had met with. It would require explaining the why and how, and he couldn't betray Zane's trust by giving away the secrets of his past.
"Good. Let's keep it that way."
Gabriel nodded in agreement and s.h.i.+fted his foot. "Have you noticed that he's more aggressive than usual?"
"Actually, no. In fact, he seems calmer than normal. Maybe that dog is doing him some good. Nice little beast." The puppy was a rambunctious little rascal and the perfect companion for Zane. "The dog even listens to Zane. Whenever he sits down, the pup jumps onto his lap. And Zane doesn't seem to mind."
Samson exchanged a grin with Gabriel. "Looks like my idea wasn't that bad after all."
"We'll see," Gabriel replied. "He's only had the dog for what, three days, four days? I'd like to see what long term effect he has on him."
"Is he sleeping?" Samson asked, looking back at Quinn.
"The dog? All day long."
"Not the dog, Zane."
Quinn couldn't suppress a grin. "He sure wasn't sleeping much during the last day."
Samson frowned, but Quinn waved him off quickly. "It's not what you think. He wasn't brooding. He had a woman over."
"I thought he never took women to his place," Samson mused.
Quinn shrugged. "Surprised the h.e.l.l out of me too, but hey, there she was in his bed. And he wasn't even willing to share her. Must have been quite a catch. Hey, not that I'm p.i.s.sed or anything. I can get my own women. But hey, it was quite a departure from his usual modus operandi." Which generally meant a quick f.u.c.k in the backroom of a club or bar, or even in an alley.
"Do you know whether he hurt her?" Gabriel asked.
Knowing that Zane wasn't one to shy away from mixing a little pain with his pleasure, Quinn wasn't at all surprised at Gabriel's question. However, he had no answer for it. "I was up for only a half hour or so. I didn't hear any screams if that's what you're asking. And this evening I found Zane sleeping on the couch with the dog curled up by his side. Must have been quite a day for him to be so exhausted. I had to wake him to make sure he got to his a.s.signment on time."
Samson quietly contemplated Quinn's words before he spoke. "Well, at least it appears he's calm and under control. I spoke to Drake earlier. Of course, his ethics don't allow him to disclose what Zane spoke about in his session, but Drake knows when to warn me about erratic behavior. And there seemed to be none."
"Do you think he's trying to fool us by pretending to be calm and collected when he's not?" Gabriel asked, staring at Samson.
"He's doing a good job if that's the case," Quinn chimed in, not wanting them to suspect how agitated Zane really was.
The encounter with the a.s.sa.s.sin and the discovery that Mller was most likely behind a master race breeding program had shaken Zane up; Quinn could see that. Having a woman over for a little playtime had probably helped calm his nerves a little, but Quinn knew all too well that this wouldn't keep Zane calm forever. Only one thing would: finding the headquarters of the breeding program and eradicating its leader and top ranks.
Once the last of the monsters of his friend's past were destroyed, perhaps he could finally find peace.
"Keep an eye on him. If anything changes, alert us immediately. We don't want another killing."
Quinn nodded in agreement and rose. "I've got a few things to take care of. I'll check in with you periodically."
"Thanks, Quinn, you're a great help." Samson offered his hand in thanks, and Quinn shook it.
When he stalked out of Samson's Victorian home in n.o.b Hill and walked down the hill, he felt a heavy stone lifted from his shoulders. He hadn't said anything negative about Zane; he'd given nothing away that would even border on betrayal. Of course, Zane wouldn't see it that way. He'd still call him a snitch and toss him out on his a.s.s. But if he were honest, even Zane would
Having already checked out the Greyhound station on his way to Samson's, Quinn headed for the train station, hoping to have better luck finding the locker that could be opened by the key Zane had given him.
The rush hour crowd had long left the station, and only those individuals who worked late were now waiting for trains to take them home. Quinn surveyed the platforms. Two trains were in the station, a couple of dozen pa.s.sengers loitered along the gates waiting for their train to show, and a station agent wandered near the ticket windows, consulting his watch on and off.
Everything looked normal. Yet Quinn had worked in security long enough not to be fooled by the appearance of normality. He was never lulled into complacency, or any sense that this would be an easy task. At any time, another attacker could strike. If Brandt's son had taken the precaution of not having identification on him so he couldn't be traced anywhere, it was clearly information others were guarding, and Quinn knew to exercise caution in trying to unearth such information.
Instead of heading straight for the lockers that he spotted at the entrance to platform one, he perused the departure board. Only five more trains were scheduled for the remainder of the night. He looked over the pa.s.sengers waiting on the platforms. His suspicious nature was appeased when he confirmed that only those platforms where trains were due in the next half hour were occupied by people. Good. At least on the surface, it appeared as if only genuine travelers were at the station.
Quinn turned and wandered toward platform one. He'd memorized the number on the key and now scanned the rows and columns of lockers, looking for it. There weren't many, and he was lucky; his number was among them. He glanced over his shoulder and noticed the station agent pacing.
Turning his attention back to the lockers, Quinn reached into his pocket and pulled out the key. He inserted it into the lock and was encouraged momentarily when it turned, but there was only a click. He pulled, but the door didn't open.
Steps from behind him made him spin on his heels, ready to attack.
"If it doesn't open," the station agent drawled, "then you gotta put more money in it." He pointed toward a red flag over the lock that screamed EXPIRED.
"Oh, thanks." Quinn pulled a few coins from his jeans pocket and dropped them in. After the third coin, the flag switched to green. He twisted the handle and heard another click.
The little hairs on his nape stood in alert. Quickly, he sucked in a deep breath. s.h.i.+t! A familiar scent reached his sensitive nostrils.
"Still not opening?" The station agent's hand came up and reached for the handle. "Sometimes you've gotta yank it." And he did.
"NOOOOOO!" Quinn screamed to stop the man from pulling on the door and jerking it open, but it was too late.
The explosion rocked him back and, acting purely on instinct, Quinn jumped, grabbed the man and hauled them both several feet down the platform. As he covered the station agent with his own body, searing heat pa.s.sed over him and debris scattered. Luckily, his heavy leather coat provided some protection from the heat as well as the metal items that flew through the air.
"s.h.i.+t!" he cursed again. He'd smelled the residue of the explosive the moment the station agent had gripped the door and yanked it open.
Excited voices and screams came from the waiting pa.s.sengers, and from the corner of his eye he saw several people running. Quinn turned his head, surveying the crowd, but his eyes strayed into the distance to the far platform where one man stood, not having moved.
Their gazes met for an instant, and even from a distance of three hundred yards, Quinn recognized the aura of a vampire. He could have sworn the guy hadn't been there earlier.
f.u.c.k!
He lifted himself off the station agent, who, although shaken, appeared uninjured. Helpful hands reached for him, but the good Samaritans were only getting in his way. When he looked back at the vampire, he was already gone.
Now all he could do was damage control. He counted: two dozen people had witnessed the explosion. He needed help. p.r.o.nto.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN.
"Zane, I need you at the train station on 4th and King, now," Quinn's frantic voice sounded through his cell. In the background, Zane heard a commotion. "There was an explosion."
"f.u.c.k! I'll be there in ten minutes."
"Make that five. We need damage control."
Zane flipped the phone shut and looked toward the stairs that led up to Portia's room.
"Portia! Come down now!" he yelled.
To his surprise, she rushed down the stairs a few second later, a stunned look on her face. "What's wrong?"
A h.e.l.l of a lot of things, but he didn't have the time to explain.
"I have to take care of something right now. You'll have to come with me."
He s.n.a.t.c.hed her arm and dragged her to the door.
"Hey, I'm coming, I'm coming. There's no need to be brutal."
Instantly, he released her arm. In his haste, he hadn't realized how roughly he'd grabbed her. "We have no time."
He shot out the door, Portia following on his heels. Luckily, he'd come with his Hummer today since he'd planned on seeing Samson toward the end of his s.h.i.+ft. Since Samson lived clear across town, he'd decided not to waste time by walking. He was glad now that the car was parked right in the driveway.
He jumped in. A moment later, Portia entered through the pa.s.senger door, and he gunned the engine, shooting out of the driveway and down the hill seconds later.
The Hummer was built like a tank in more ways than one. Zane had only just recently had the windows coated with specially designed UV protection Thomas had invented. They, in effect, turned the car into a blackout van that a vampire could drive during daylight. No harmful rays of the sun could penetrate the windows. From the outside, the windows looked no different than the tinted windows of any SUV.
But not even the specially coated windows eliminated all risks a vampire took when driving a car. Getting into a traffic accident would be life threatening if it happened during the day, and any traffic stop was always a risk. At least, using mind control on some unsuspecting traffic cop would take care of being pulled over and forced to open the window, but if the windows broke during an accident, he'd be toast. Which was why the Hummer was also equipped with shatterproof and bulletproof gla.s.s. All precautions had been taken.
"Where are we going?"
Zane turned a tight corner and barreled down the narrow street trying to avoid the mirrors of the parked cars on either side of the street. "Train station."
He concentrated on the traffic, his superior senses alerting him to other cars, giving him a chance to avoid any collisions despite the fact that he was reaching speeds of fifty miles an hour.
Avoiding busy Sixteenth Street, he took a side street and pressed down the gas pedal further. Three minutes had pa.s.sed since Quinn's call, and he was closing in on his destination. Depending on how many witnesses had seen the explosion, and how many people were injured, it would require both him and Quinn to make sure that the scene was contained, and that n.o.body would have any memory of Quinn.
"What happened?" Portia's voice pushed through his thoughts.
"An explosion."
Her mouth dropped open. "Oh my G.o.d. Is anybody injured?"
"I don't know." If they were, at least he and Quinn could heal them with vampire blood, but if somebody had died, they'd be too late.
The train station came up on the right, and he pulled the SUV to a stop, the tires screeching. He killed the engine.
"You stay here."
"But, I can h-"
He glared at her. "You stay here. Don't leave the car!"
Zane jumped out and slammed the door. It would have been better if he'd been able to come on his own, but he couldn't risk leaving Portia alone in the house. She might use the occasion to run out on him and go to whatever f.u.c.king party was happening tonight. Those students for sure had a party each night.
At least with her only a few yards away, he'd be able to catch her if she pulled a runner.
He charged into the station and scanned his surroundings, spotting Quinn instantly. A group of people stood around, talking excitedly. Some were on their cell phones, most likely alerting the authorities or their friends.
Zane rushed to Quinn's side.
"Help me wipe their memories of me," Quinn requested. "There are too many for me to stop them from calling the police. All we can do is make sure they've never seen me."
Zane nodded. "Are you all right?"
"Yes."
"Anybody injured?"
"No. Help me." Quinn pointed to a few people now sitting on benches. "I already took care of those."
Zane concentrated and let his powers flow to the group that was standing near the lockers, gawking at the damaged structure. Warm energy flowed through him as he sent his thoughts out to them, infiltrated their minds and planted his own suggestions in them, erasing any memory of how the explosion had happened and who they had seen.