Hunting Tess Page 7

  I see Rebecca from outside the manager’s window on the second-floor walking toward the last remaining girls who are being questioned. If we know how they were targeted we may be able to look into similar disappearances. While Rebecca works mainly with the victims of those we save she is still a field agent. Maybe she could recruit Tess, or at the very least get her interested.

  The action on the screens doesn’t last much longer which is a good thing since I’m itching to go back downstairs.

  “Alright, I’ve seen enough.” Marc leads the way back down and I skim a couple members of his team finishing up statements and processing. I work mainly from the comfort of my own home because of Caleb and Leo. Caleb, not so much anymore since he’s mated and will be moving back to Seattle in the next few months. But Leo still needs guidance and protection, no matter what he says. Breaking away from Marc who walks toward the thug in charge of kidnapping women, I angle toward a small group waiting for the others to finish their jobs.

  Caleb is standing near Tess with his arms folded. Only when I get closer do I notice the tension in his muscles and remember his aversion to the aftermath. He loves being in the midst of the fight, but not so much the cleanup. Caleb at least had the thought to stash his clothes before shifting.

  One of the newer guys I’m unfamiliar with holds a ball of flame in the open palm of his hand. “It may be better to wait to burn down the warehouse until after everyone is out,” I remark, stopping next to Tess. Her hair is mussed and there’s a bruising welt on her upper arm, but those are the only signs of her being in a fight. I have to rip my eyes away from the welt. Otherwise I’ll punch something.

  The ball of flame disappears at my comment and I’m glad the hothead extinguished his fire. I was only half joking about him burning down the building. “I have control of it,” he defends, looking every bit a kid fresh out of high school.

  “Nah, Pete,” an older veteran named Landon nudges his shoulder while winking. “Parker’s right. No need to show off for the ladies.” Pete’s cheeks go pink in youthful indignation and I stand possessively behind Tess’s shoulder, hoping the nonverbal communication is enough. The poor kid has been embarrassed enough for the day and I would hate to draw out his humiliation.

  Marc stands with the man from the video tape being held by two enforcers. From the look on his face I doubt he’ll give any useful information and am about to look away when I see his gaze flicker to Tess. His eyes marginally squint and his jaw juts out in anger. At least until I see him scrutinize her closer. The anger is replaced by confusion, disbelief, and then glee.

  He knows.

  The fierce desire to protect Tess overrides my brain until I feel my bones shifting, elongating and reshaping until the man is pinned beneath my paw with my teeth bared less than a foot from his neck.

  “Parker!” Tess’s voice hovers somewhere above the haze of my wolf rage, and I pause. A hand threads through the fur at my shoulder, my muscles bunching beneath her touch. With every ounce of control I own, I withdraw my paw from off my prey, focusing on Tess’s warm fingers to keep from ripping his throat out.

  Shuffling backwards only a few steps I stay standing, hypervigilant of any move he makes. Now that his operation is over the chances of him hurting another woman is slim, but if he’s handed over to local authorities then he’ll just buy his way out. A man like him will have connections.

  “What do you know?” I hear Caleb ask, standing somewhere to my left. With me going all furry it wasn’t much of a leap to figure out the man is a threat.

  He presses his lips together in an infuriating smile. A low growl rumbles up from my throat and his grin falters just the tinniest bit. If he knows who Tess is that means he knows who is after her, after all, word travels quickly on the paranormal black market. This is the first real break I’ve had since talking to Gabe. All I have to do is follow the trail back to the head.

  My hackles rise at being so close to a new lead and I swiftly review everything I can do to make him talk.

  “Alex Holden,” a small feminine voice says. A woman who looks like a young child stands next to Marc, her pale face tight in concentration. “Who is that?”

  The man’s eyes go wide and he looks afraid for the first time. I vaguely remember Marc saying he recently found an orphan who was bounced from foster home to foster home with a peculiar talent. Even if the ability takes some time to get an answer, hers is a good gift to have on the team.

  Alex Holden. Alex Holden is a name I can work with.

  ***

  Parked bikes line the front of a building splayed with a neon green Luke’s Bar sign and I have a feeling this won’t be as easy as I hoped. There were several men with the same name, but only one who owns a bar and is a prolific member of the supernatural community. I haven’t been in a bar fight in a long time, and while I know Tess can handle herself, I don’t want her inhuman speed noticed by the wrong people.

  Keeping my hand on the small of her back we enter the lively atmosphere. Though it’s early in the evening patrons gather round tables with abundant greasy food and hard drink, their applause and jeers focused on the small corner stage.

  Karaoke night. Lovely.

  Taking a seat at the bar top, I try to tune out the off-key belting by some bloke who has had a pint too many. The bartender is a burly bald man with a thick blonde mustache, his hands always in action.

  “We’re looking for Alex Holden,” I say keeping part of my attention on the action around me. “Is he here?”

  The bartender dries a mug while eyeing us guardedly. “The boss doesn’t see walk-ins. You’ll need to make an appointment.”

  Tess takes one of the shelled peanuts from a glass bowl, peeling away the husk. “Funny, I thought someone who ran with vampires would want more than three bodyguards watching the main entrance.” She pops a peanut in her mouth, savoring the prize. The bartender stares at her, his mustache twitching when he sniffs. “Or are you guys just props? I thought the gun at your side could be a personal preference thing, you know, a concealed carrying permit, but then I thought, do you really need to wear two more guns? I mean, isn’t that overkill? Unless it’s just for intimidation, of course. However, I should tell you that a gun won’t slow down a vampire unless the bullet is pure silver, and even then, it won’t kill them. It’ll only tick them off more than anything. You do have silver bullets, right? If not, get some. And if you do, I would still suggest running really fast.”

  She cracks open another peanut shell. “I’m sure Holden has fingers in other pies, hence the man power, but by your numbers I would say he isn’t being so careful about his paranormal enemies. You do get hazards pay, right? If not, I would start requesting it.”

  She turns around to the newcomer standing behind us. His silver hair streaked with one white patch and deeply set crowfeet shows the many years he’s lived on this earth. “Alex Holden, I presume?” she questions, hopping up from her seat. “Wonderful. We have some questions.”

  This girl is amazing.

  I want to burst out laughing at the way she so easily played Holden into appearing. I mean, who wants their dirty laundry aired in public?

  Holden keeps an at ease grin resting on his face but his eyes are tight. “I’m afraid you have me mistaken for someone else, young lady. I am a business man, and welcome all customers, but a business man first and foremost. You are welcome to enjoy your time here, but I’ll have to ask you to leave if you’re here for more than entertainment.”

  “Yeah that’s not going to work for us,” I say, rising from my seat. A glass is set down behind me and a couple of men peel away from various walls. Several guests notice the growing tension and turn their attention our way. Holden notices the increasing interest, angling around to placate those with listening ears.

  Returning his attention forward, his eyes linger on Tess for a fraction of a second too long. “Let’s make a deal. As you may have noticed, tonight is karaoke night. A winner is chosen by the audience when all entri
es have performed. You participate, and win, then I’ll answer whatever questions you have.”

  There’s a chance we could get answers without jumping through his hoops. But doing so would mean beating up anyone under Holden’s pay. It will be better to come back early in the morning before the bar opens.

  “Deal,” Tess beams. Before I can contradict her agreeance, Holden stalks off to the back rooms.

  “He only offered that deal to keep us here long enough for vampires or other bounty hunters to show up.”

  “Yes, but that doesn’t mean I can’t win in the meantime. It’ll make waiting go so much faster.”

  “It would be safer to come back later.”

  She’s already glancing around the crowded room, now paying close attention to the audience’s response to the current singer. “By that point he’ll have skipped town.”

  “Not if we put someone on his trail—"

  “Parker,” she says, pausing in her musings, “our best chance is to do this right now.”

  “And if vampires show up? What if they attack people?”

  “You heard Holden say he is a business man. It wouldn’t be very good for business if his clientele die. Now stop worrying. I’m hoping we’ll be well on our way before anyone shows up.”

  The bartender points her in the direction of a woman handing out large stickers with numbers, indicating the karaoke participants.

  Coalescing with the crowd, I find an empty seat and ignore the stares from those already at the table. Crossing my arms, I lean back in the chair and wait for this fiasco to be finished.

  Sporadic clapping accompanies the last performer, who almost trips off the small stage, only to grow thunderous when a middle-aged woman steps on. Hoots and cheers absorb into the walls as the crowd favorite chooses her song. If I had to guess, I would say this woman wins every week. And Holden knows that. I try to catch Tess’s eye, let her know that we should leave and try again tomorrow, but she ignores my attempt. She’s scanning the crowd, though what she’s looking for is beyond me.

  The woman’s dark auburn hair shines against the small spotlight as she sways to the music. Though she has a decent voice, from the reaction of the gentlemen here I assume she relies more on her feminine wiles to clench the victory.

  I have to shoo away a waiter twice before the song is finished, the crowd repeating their boisterous applause, but when she leaves the stage remains empty. I suppose no one would want an immediate comparison after that. So of course Tess moves onto the stage, her steps confident as she glances through the list of available songs.

  “’I Will Survive’,” Holden announces loudly from outside his office. The song by Gloria Gaynor is the exact same one as the previous performance. He’s really stacking the odds against us. What if she doesn’t know this song? Sure, she listened to the other woman sing it, but a single time does not a winner make.

  Tess keeps her expression neutral which is a far cry from my own. At the sound of the running introductory scale she drops the list back onto the table, taking up the microphone with such assurance that the sharp spike of panic burning in my chest quickly runs out of fuel.

  The dichotomy between Tess and performing Tess is night and day, and I find myself unable to tear away from her. Where other contenders stayed rooted in their spot, she engages the crowd. Side conversations die off as more customers tune in to the performance, and by the second chorus she’s leading a conga line past my seat. All I can do is stare in amazement.

  The bar erupts in deafening applause at her final note where she transforms back into the woman I have grown to know. After a quick smile she places the microphone back on its stand before reentering the floor. Guests nod their approval, raising their drinks in salute as she passes by. We make eye contact and she beams. Everything else melts away as I focus on her. A tight knot grows in my chest with the need to keep her safe.

  “So, how did I do?” she questions, accepting a seat one of the men at the table offers her.

  I nod my head, too afraid to speak and expose how I really feel before it’s time. Turning our attention back to the stage we wait for the next contestant, but after half a minute the woman handing out numbers steps up to the podium. She takes the mic, joking with a couple of men near the front before getting down to business.

  Inviting all the contestants to stand in front of the stage she holds her hand over each individual, allowing the audience to cheer for their favorite. The woman places her hand over Tess’s fiercest competition who gathers a good number of patrons rising to their feet in applause. The number however doesn’t compare to Tess’s own rating which surpasses every other competitor.

  Tess leaves the front laughing at something another person says, her happiness radiating. I meet her by Alex Holden who stands by his office with a sour look on his face. Unfortunately for him he’ll have to stall since his backup has yet to arrive, and I am not a patient man.

  “I believe you owe us some answers,” Tess states. There isn’t any kind of tension coming from her like I expect. Instead, her hands rest lazily on her hips and she looks pleased, almost excited, for the coming interview.

  “Let’s take this outside.”

  A side door near the back of the bar leads to a narrow alley perfect for an ambush. I have to focus on my breathing, timing my breaths to keep from shifting into something better suited for fighting vampires which is unfortunate because the putrid dumpster next to the door is smothering any clean air. “What do you want to know?” Holden asks, opening his arms with practiced ease.

  “You’ve been in contact with Bulgarian vampires. Their leader’s name would be a good place to start,” I recommend through my clenched teeth.

  “Vampires are a nasty bunch,” Holden patronizes, his condescending tone bouncing off Tess’s cool demeanor.

  “How many did you call?” Her blunt question isn’t enough to catch him off guard, but it is enough to make him tight lipped. “Did you ever pause to question why a girl would be asking about your relationship with vampires?”

  “Curiosity?” Holden responds. “I had heard a description matching yourself and the chance for a reward was too good to pass on.”

  “So if you believe vampires are after me,” she says, taking a step closer, “wouldn’t you stop to consider why?”

  The hairs on my arms stand on end with the threat of violence hanging in the air. Every second we stand here talking is another second vampires grow closer. Sweeping my gaze across the brick wall and either end of the alley doesn’t alleviate my restlessness.

  “I don’t care why vampires are after some human girl.”

  A slow, methodical grin pulls her lips up morphing her beauty into something other, something ethereal. “And who said I’m human?”

  For the first time Holden blanches, taking a shaky step back which puts him against the opposite wall. This showcase of fear is heightened to a new level, one he didn’t demonstrate when speaking of something as evil as vampires. I wonder how close his ties are to the undead community.

  “A name,” Tess whispers with perfect timing. She’s mentioned her heightened sense of speed but I wonder if she can smell fear. I’ll have to ask her.

  Movement flashes nearly too fast for me to track as a gun clatters to the ground. Tess’s hand reaches upward pressing against Holden’s throat as his hand, now empty, gets pinned to the wall in a painfully awkward position.

  “You are wasting my time and I will not ask again.”

  His lips turn white from puckering them so tightly, showcasing each crease as a glaring remark to his age. His pulse throbs in his throat beneath Tess’s hand as if enticing the vampires to hurry.

  “I don’t know the Master’s name. All I know is a woman, Stephany Wares, is the one who sets up their meetings in America,” he grits, visibly upset at having no further way to stall before divulging such information. His eyes keep flickering to the bar’s door like he’s hoping one of his paid muscle will intervene.

  “There no
w. That wasn’t so hard.” Stepping back, she adjusts the cuffs of her jacket. “Also, though I’m sure you’ve already thought about this, I would consider leaving immediately. It may not look too great when the woman you’re supposed to be stalling gets the information she wants and leaves before the other baddies arrive. Additionally, if you’ve fed me wrong information there is no hole small enough you can crawl in or tall enough mountain that will hide you from me. Keep that in mind.”

  Following her lead, we saunter the length of the alleyway toward the parking lot. While I would rather throw her over my shoulder and sprint, I’m not about to undermine the impressive display she just staged.

  It isn’t until we’re driving away that I feel like I can draw a full breath. “Who said I’m human?” I smirk, recalling the moment Holden almost wet his pants. The speed at which Tess disarmed him was a nice bonus.

  “Human, merely human, it’s all semantics.”

  “Well then, merely human, we have a name which at least gets us on the margins of this group. And then we can work our way to the top.”

  ***

  “What is this?” she asks when she sees the dining table. We haven’t even been in the house fifteen seconds before she rattles off the question, and it takes every ounce of strength I have not to burst into a smile. There isn’t any use denying my feelings for her. She deserves to know.

  “Well to me it looks like some kind of celebratory dinner.”

  “Shoot, are we intruding on something? We can go grab some take out.”

  Before she has a chance to turn back to the door I ease the jacket off her shoulders. “If memory serves, today was your graduation. And that is something to celebrate.”

  “This is for me?” she asks softly. The way she says it makes me wonder when the last person did something special just for her. Starting a new life couldn’t have been easy, and with her family and friends so distant getting together often was out of the question. But what about birthdays? Thanksgiving or Christmas?