"Anita." He growled it almost against my lips, and the first trickling rise of his beast flared across my skin like a spill of something warm, almost hot, sliding everywhere along my skin.
"God," I said, and got that first glimpse of tiger inside me, that great blue-and-black beast that rose to him.
There was a loud throat-clearing and a knock on the doorway. We both turned, startled, toward the sound. Nathaniel looked apologetic. "You guys are fun together."
"How long have you been watching?" I asked.
"Not long, but the police just pulled up outside."
"Shit," I said. I looked back up at Cynric. "I have to go."
"I know." And then he smiled. "But I know you're sorry to leave me now, and that helps."
I wasn't sure how to take that, so I ignored it and went for the door, adjusting the weapons and straps as if the make-out session had mussed them, but I think it was more to get back into work headspace. I touched the weapons, made sure they were all where I could grab them if I needed them, and went for the door. I gave Nathaniel a quick kiss. Micah was at the door, standing with one of my equipment bags in his hand. I kissed him, too, but neither he nor Nathaniel tried to get more than a quick kiss. They knew my head was already moving ahead, already settling into the mind-set I needed to do my job. When you're thinking about killing people, you don't want to think about kissing your sweeties, or at least I didn't. It was a way to separate that part of the job from the warm, happy part of my life.
"I've got to go," I said.
"We know," Micah said.
"We're scheduled with Jean-Claude tonight," Nathaniel said, reminding me of the time split.
"Thanks, I'd have forgotten and wondered where you guys were." I started out the door. Micah let me take both bags from him. You didn't let the other cops see your guys carrying your bags; you just didn't.
"Do whatever it takes to come home safe to us, Anita," he said.
I looked into those eyes and said, "Always." And I had to go, but now that Brice was calling at me from his SUV, and the SWAT van was already pulling away, there was that edge of excitement in me. I loved my guys, but a part of me still loved this, too. How do you divide yourself between killing people and loving them? The best I had on that one was just to kill the bad guys, and love the good guys, and hope the two lists never crossed.
Chapter Twenty-Five
I THREW MY gear in Brice's truck and had barely buckled in when he spun gravel and away we went. I caught movement by the woods near the house. It was Nicky, barely visible in the green of the leaves and trees. It must have been his turn on guard duty. I didn't wave, didn't do anything to draw more attention to him - he and the others had taught me that - but I watched him as we drove away, until the first curve hid him from view. I hadn't kissed him good-bye, and I hadn't thought about him until I saw him in the woods. When I could forget about someone as yummy in bed, and as dangerous, as Nicky, it just confirmed that I had too many men in my life. The trick was, what the hell to do about it?
"Would you be insulted if I said that those are two of the most beautiful men I've ever seen?" Brice said, as we skidded around a corner trying to keep up with the SWAT van.
"Say anything you want, just don't put us in the ditch!" I held on to the oh-shit handle for dear life.
"Sorry!"
"And thanks for the compliment," I said.
"Was the one in the woods one of yours, too?" He braked sharply around the next curve and I thought we were going in the ditch, but he managed to pull it out with a spray of gravel and a whish of leaves catching in the windshield wipers.
"Shit, Brice," I said. "And yes, he's mine."
"Sorry," he said again. "I can't find one gorgeous boyfriend to live with me; how did you manage this many?"
"I was just thinking that," I said.
"What?" he asked. The windshield got another slap of tree limbs, and I yelled at him, "Slow down or I will hurt you!"
He gave a quick darting glance at me, then slowed down; maybe it was the look on my face, or maybe the fact that I had a death grip on the oh-shit handle and my Browning BDM. I wouldn't have shot him, not while he was driving, but by the time we skidded up behind the SWAT van I was motion sick. I never got motion sick.
"I am so driving the truck home," I said, as I got the last of the gear from the back.
"You look a little green, Blake," Hill said.
"Brice's driving sucks," I said.
"Hey," he said.
I just looked at him, and he finally nodded. "Sorry, I'm not used to hills."
We split into two teams, to take the two entrances to the house. Brice would go with one, me with the other. We'd clear the house by shooting things, and if there was anything in the house that was awake in the daylight, if it ran, it would have to run toward one group or the other. SWAT normally liked more time to scout, plan, but the light was dying, there was no time. Our choices were to go in after dark with the vampires awake, or go in early with less planning. Hunting monsters is full of moments when you have bad choices, and worse choices, and no choices. I wanted our bad choice, before it turned into no choice, and the team had worked with me enough to trust my judgment. We geared up, we divided up, we had a plan, and we'd work the plan, until something big and bad changed the plan. I glanced up at the darkening sky and prayed, "God, let us be done before the vampires rise for the night." I didn't believe God would slow the sun in the sky for us, but just because you probably won't get something doesn't mean you shouldn't ask for it, because you never know, sometimes the angels hold hands.
Chapter Twenty-Six
I ENTERED THE house behind Hill's tall black armored figure, with Killian, only inches taller than me, and Jung, a bit taller than that, behind and to the side of me. Saville, who towered over all of us, had used the battering ram to open the door, and brought up the rear. I didn't glance behind and see him; I just knew that he'd be there. I trusted everyone in the room to do their jobs. His job was to cover the whole room, so that nothing came running into the room and surprised us while we executed the vampires. Jung and I, our job was to divide the ten kills visible in the room between the two of us. Hill stayed at my shoulder with his AR-15 covering me, in case one of the "kills" got too lively. Killian stayed at Jung's side to do the same for him.
The living room was just a normal living room with a couch, a love seat, and a beanbag chair deflating in front of a small television set, except for the vampires lying in a row. Most of them were in mummy bags fastened up completely over the body shapes. Two of them were just wrapped in sheets. In the movies it's all Dracula, Prince of Darkness, all coffins and candlelight, but most modern American vampires' lairs are more like slumber parties than dungeons. There was just no sense of presentation.
Saville opened the big drapes of the picture window behind us to let in the late-day sunlight. Most of these vampires were probably too young to move until full dark, but if any of them were old enough to move before that, sunlight in the room would prevent it. One, sunlight hitting the "coffin" substitute would simply keep them dead to the world. Two, if they were powerful enough to wake with the light hitting the outside of their hiding places, then feeling the heat of the sunlight would make them think long and hard about coming out early. Of course, once we started shooting them they might risk it, but it was the best precaution we had. When you hunt vampires, sunlight is always your friend.
The thick afternoon light filled half the room, letting us see that the sleeping bags were all different colors, as if they'd bought them all together at some kind of sale, or just wanted not to match so no one would use the wrong bag by mistake. One set of sheets was covered in cartoon characters. I hoped the sheets had been on sale, but worried that it was more than that. The figure underneath them looked small, but it was the fourth one on my side and fifth on Jung's side; we had a lot of shooting between us and it. I snugged my rifle to my shoulder and nodded at Hill. He knelt at the top of the mummy bag and opened it. It was a two-handed job to open most good mummy bags; that Hill was willing to have no active weapon in his hands and trust me to cover him was the highest praise that any of these men had for anyone. I concentrated like a son of a bitch and did my best to be worthy of that praise.