Flying, page 10
part #5 of Girl With Broken Wings Series
“Gabe, go back for the Jeep. If she gets in a vehicle, we’ll need to follow,” Tarren says, reading my mind, as he has a tendency to do. “Maya, you come up and track.”
Smart move. He’s switching us up. Gabe’s outfit is too conspicuous, especially as the traffic of people dwindles. With my enhanced vision, I can stay farther back as I track our angel. I wonder if Gabe will argue, but after a slight pause, he says, “Check, heading back,” either realizing the logic of Tarren’s plan or simply trusting his judgement.
I quicken my pace and Gabe passes me going the other way. Under the bushy, glued-on eyebrows, his brown eyes are serious, and the look he gives me says, Be careful. I give him a curt nod, but the truth is that I’m practically on autopilot. We’ve done the surround and stalk thing so many times, I almost have to keep myself from yawning.
I look ahead and see those red hips swish, swish, swishing. Gabe is right. Our angel does know how to work her stiletto stripper heels. My bet is that she’s on the prowl for a snack. It’ll be easy enough for her to pick off a victim. Even on this populated street, we pass a number of small alcoves around the casino that lead to service doors and loading bays. All she’d have to do is target one of the early drunks staggering down the street and drag him into one of these nooks.
It’s what I would do.
And, looking around, I see a few potential victims stumbling nearby, their auras drifting in clouds of confused colors. It’d be so easy… The monster inside me gives a low chuckle, and I push her far, far back into my mind. No matter how much I feed, how in control I feel, she always lurks just beneath the surface of my consciousness. Always testing the restraints.
…which is why I seriously need to stop listening to Rain’s voicemails over and over at night, like I’m starring in the world’s lamest teen drama. These weary thoughts distract me as we pass a massive, multi-level parking structure. I blink, and our angel is suddenly gone.
Damn. I’m getting too cocky.
“She just ducked around the side of the parking structure,” I whisper into my earpiece. Did she see a victim in the shadows or catch the whiff of a tail?
“I’ll double back,” Tarren says, his voice sharp, quick. “Can we take her there? I don’t want her to get into a car.”
“I’m not even to the Jeep yet,” Gabe chimes in.
I look around. This isn’t good at all. A small trickle of people wander down the sidewalk, and two cars wait at the entrance of the parking garage. The side of the building seems isolated, but anyone in the parking garage could easily look down and spot us. Each level of the garage is open. A short wall wraps around each level, built just high enough so cars and trucks can’t plummet down the side, but otherwise open to the night.
I study the cameras perched high on the front of the structure. They peer straight down, intent on catching the license plates of all the cars entering and leaving. I don’t think they can get a straight view around the corner of the structure.
“It’s risky, but we can do it. We’ll need to be fast,” I say. “Tarren, I think you can come around the back.”
“I’m almost to the Jeep,” Gabe says. “I’ll get to you as soon as I can without plowing anyone down.”
“Maya, keep a lookout. I’ll take the shot,” Tarren says, his voice a whisper.
Another good move. Tarren can duck the cameras entirely by coming around the back of the parking garage. As long as no homeless guys are pitching a tent back there, he should be able to clip this angel’s wings without any witnesses.
I imagine Tarren stalking behind the parking structure, his long strides eating up the distance. His aura is so controlled and quiet that I can barely feel it, just the faintest touch in my mind. I move closer to the parking structure keeping an eye on the civilians leisurely strolling or stumbling along the nearby sidewalk. I move right to the edge of the building and lean casually against the front corner, keeping out of the angel’s line of sight. I shift my purse in front of me, shielding my movements from the street traffic as I carefully reach in and wrap my hand around my Glock. Then, I lean forward just a hair so I can see around the corner. The angel moves within the dim shadows, far away from the spill of lights from the sidewalk. I don’t feel the aura of a victim. She isn’t feeding. What is she…
The long, blonde locks fall to the ground, revealing black hair pulled into a tight bun at the nape of her neck. With a crooked index finger, she hooks the back of one heel, pulls it off, and then the other. A soft sigh escapes her lips.
At that moment Tarren swings around from the back of the structure…
…lines up his shot
….pulls the trigger
….and does something unthinkable.
Impossible.
He misses.
Chapter 15 – Tarren
The bullet nicks her arm, and even as the blood bursts in dark rivulets down her skin, she leaps, clasps the lip of the second story wall and flips backwards into the parking structure. I squeeze off another round, a fraction of a second too late, and the bullet cracks into the concrete in the place she just was.
Maya’s shot comes after mine, hitting the concrete a little higher up. She aims at the orange gloom within the parking garage.
“Don’t,” I whisper, “civilians.”
We’re already far too exposed out here, especially after the muted but clearly audible shots. The angel’s blonde wig lies abandoned on the ground next to her shoes, tall stilettos with heels like daggers. Just her style.
Maya stands across from me, suspicion stamped across her features. I cultivate my anger and focus on it so that it will seep into my aura and cloak my other emotions. Anger will make sense. Allay suspicion.
My thoughts whirl. Think. Think. A ghost of a plan forms in my mind, and I have no time to probe the strands for weakness. I must act.
“Get up on the roof,” I tell Maya, gruffly. “Watch to see if she tries to escape from either side.” Every level of the parking garage is open, so she could slip out from any direction. “I’ll walk through the garage and flush her out.”
Maya shakes her head. “Too dangerous. You can’t go in alone.”
“What happened?” Gabe’s voice is breathless on the other end of the com. “I’m hardly moving in this traffic.”
The same question lingers on Maya’s face.
I keep my expression blank and hold the anger around me like a shield. I made my decision in the grain of a moment as I pulled the trigger, and now I must own it.
“She’s on the run,” I say into my earpiece. “Maya, roof!” I bark the order at her, brooking no argument.
Maya’s accusing eyes hold me one moment longer, and then she nods, leaping up and grasping the short wall on the second floor. Her fingers find impossible holds as she springs up to the next level. I turn, walk through the pedestrian door on the bottom level of the parking garage, and mute my phone.
Overhead lights drop dim puddles of glowing orange at regular intervals down the wide lanes of the garage. Danielle may have already escaped out the other side of the garage, or she may be hiding under the carriage of any of the cars tucked shoulder to shoulder along the first floor. If she chose to hide, I doubt I could find her. But I know she didn’t.
Danielle doesn’t hide.
I climb up the ramp onto the second floor, also packed with parked vehicles. A black truck rumbles past, windows open, a woman’s voice hitting a high note in a country song. I circle up again and reach the third level where empty spaces are pronounced like missing teeth. The black truck has already found its space, and the brake lights die as the upbeat guitar strum vanishes.
Not here, either.
Up to the fourth floor. Only two or three scattered cars sit in spaces, and the orange overhead lights are spotlights on an otherwise black tapestry.
Here.
And then I feel hot breath blow against my neck. “Naughty, naughty, shooting me like that,” a voice purrs into my ear.
My body reacts instinctively. I whirl around, weapon up, every muscle tight as my eyes strain against the weak light. She has already moved and now stands just out of the light. Her dark hair spills long and loose down her back.
A soft, tinkling laugh comes from the darkness. “So easy to get a rise out of you.”
She takes a bold step forward, because everything about Danielle is bold. Unafraid. Like the night we met when she could have killed me. Should have killed me. My gun still hovers, almost touching her chest.
“Need a closer target?” she asks. “Here I am.”
I take a breath. Even in this urine-soaked parking garage, I smell her smoky, lilac perfume. And I feel the heat of her. I holster my gun, painfully aware of how exposed we are standing in the open aisle. Most cars will take the spaces on the floors below, but anyone could decide on a whim to park up here.
I move back into one of the empty parking spaces beyond the spill of the light, and Danielle follows. The small river of blood running down her right arm is already slowing as her body rapidly heals the wound.
“You aren’t safe,” I whisper. “My team is tracking you. I’ll need to cause a distraction. When I do, you run. Get back on the Strip. Blend in.” It’s a weak plan, but it can work.
She reaches out. Her fingers and then her palm press lightly against my chest, followed by the pillows of her breasts. Those hands. She could release her control and drain my aura in less than a minute. The knowledge of death so close, whispering on breaths of lilac, excites me.
It always does.
The growl of an SUV grows in the distance, and headlights cut through the dimness. The hulking red vehicle swings into an empty space about 100 feet away from us. Danielle and I are silent, and her breasts push into me as she breathes.
The heavy thump of bass cuts out, and a young man jumps from the driver’s side of the truck, walks quickly around the front, and opens the passenger door. A slender girl eases out, her sequined dress wrapped tightly around her frame. Together, the dress and heels severely inhibit her movement and ability to run. Not a functional wardrobe choice at all.
“Ohhhh, he wants to hit that bad,” Danielle whispers in my ear. “But she’s nervous. Young. Pretending to be a grownup. Mmmmm, they look yummy.”
“Don’t,” I hiss at her, but tamp down quickly on my anxiety. Danielle has promised me that she is using the Prism set I brought to her. Her words are just another game, or maybe just the same endless game she always plays. Even in the darkness, I can see her teasing smile.
“So easy to press your buttons,” she murmurs.
We watch the couple, hands linked, the girl tottering on her heels as they make their way to the stairs.
“I’m about ten minutes away,” Gabe says into my com.
“Nothing on the roof.” Maya’s voice is a faint whisper.
With a warning look at Danielle, I unmute my phone. “I’m on the second floor, making my way up the third. Nothing yet.”
When I mute my phone again, Danielle lays her head against my chest, her hair tickling under my chin.
“We had a deal,” she says.
“You have to go. Now.” I put menace in that last word, and she merely laughs it away. Her hand tightens into a claw, bunching my shirt.
“You owe me. Those heels were Louboutins.” She pulls me down, her hot, hungry lips on mine. I let go for just a moment, allowing my desire to wash over me as I taste her lips. But this isn’t why I broke our only rule and preserved Danielle’s life tonight, why I pulled my shot even before my mind had time to process my recognition.
I did it for Tammy, and this thought sobers me. I jerk back from the kiss and begin reeling in my emotions. Danielle’s eyes look almost black in the darkness, but I know how lively they can be in the light. Brown and bright as honey.
“You liked it. Your body doesn’t lie,” she teases, thrusting her hips into mine.
I step away from her and pull the gun from my holster. “Go. Or I’ll finish what I started.”
It’s a bad line. She giggles.
“And we both know you don’t shoot blanks.” That laugh again. Half giggle. Half memory of razor nails raking down my back. That skin-tight red dress hides nothing, not when my memory can strip her in an instant.
I unmute my phone. “I see something moving. Fourth floor. North corner,” I say.
Go, I mouth to Danielle, pointing south.
“Scanning,” Maya says. “I don’t see anything.”
Danielle gives me a big smile and then waves her fingers before turning and dashing away toward the south corner. Her dress hikes up her tight thighs with her rapid strides. She jumps over the wall and her black hair flutters behind her like a veil as she drops straight down from the fourth story.
I let out a long, slow breath, trying to corral my thoughts. I need something to tell Maya, some way to explain missing the initial shot. The alley was dark. My hand is still healing from the injury last month.
“Why?” The voice is soft, almost sad with wonderment.
I turn slowly, already knowing what I’ll see. Everything it means.
Maya crouches on the edge of barrier on the north side of the parking garage. I expected her to stay on the roof. Stay in position, weapon and eyes trained on the north wall. It was the tactically correct thing to do, but she must have dropped down when she didn’t see any escaping angel in order to provide backup in case the angel went after me.
An emotional decision. The act of a sister.
The look of puzzlement on Maya’s face tells me that she saw enough – Danielle running to the other side of the parking garage, while I stood still and let it happen.
And so, here it is.
The reckoning.
I feel a strange relief in knowing that I will finally be unmasked. Finally punished as I deserve.
“You let her escape.” Maya states this as a fact. “You let Tammy escape.”
Chapter 16 – Maya
He has the gall to act surprised. His own Tarren version of surprised. His eyes widen just a bit and his grip on his aura weakens, unleashing a volley of yellows that he quickly grapples under control.
“Tammy is dead,” he says flatly.
I promised myself that I would let him keep this secret, that he must have a good reason for it, but now I’ve seen the truth rushing away on bare feet, while Tarren passively allowed her to escape. I can’t ignore that. It’s time we become partners in this secret. If it’s worth protecting, as Tarren so obviously believes, then I will shield her too, but I need to know that she’s under control. Las Vegas is an angel buffet if one ever existed, and if Tammy represents a danger….well, then Tarren and I are going to be in a bad, bad place.
“You let her escape. I saw her,” I tell him.
His voice is soft, touched by a futile sadness. “Maya, that wasn’t...”
It stings that he’s still trying to lie, so I cut him off in a flurry of words. “You were drained by an angel six years ago, right here in Las Vegas, but she just…let go. It was Tammy, wasn’t it? The voice on the other end of the phone when I called you after Gabe came out of the coma? Tammy.” I take a quick breath. “Grand said that he turned her into an angel, but he didn’t kill her, did he? You’ve been protecting her all this time.”
We stare at each other. Pale red hues leak through the tight grip of his aura like a gunshot wound.
“Your com is still on,” he finally says.
My hand comes up, grasping at my earpiece. And yes, that damning blue light shines through the cracks of my fingers.
“Oh no,” I say weakly. “I didn’t…” I look at Tarren hopelessly, as if he can somehow rescue me from this thing I’ve done. Because I think I just ruined everything.
“Gabe?” I ask in a short, strangled voice to the earpiece nestled in my hand. No response, but it only takes a minute until the Jeep hurtles into the parking garage. I recognize the weary whine of its engine as it comes fast up the ramp.
I look at Tarren again, at his damn calm face. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” I whimper to him. “I didn’t mean…”
The Jeep swings up the ramp to the fourth flour, its headlights slicing through the darkness in a way that feels violent, but maybe it’s only because I can already feel the frantic churn of the aura within. Gabe twists the Jeep roughly across two spots and throws open the driver’s side door. The wig, eyebrows, and false teeth are gone, but he still wears that ridiculous Britney Spears t-shirt. A Beretta PX4 hangs from each hip. His aura is a rough pattern of red, and he stands, one hand pressed against the Jeep as if he needs something solid to lean against.
“Grand killed Tammy,” he finally says to Tarren. His voice sounds eerie…too high. “Grand killed her, and you found a way to escape.”
The lie never made a lot of sense. Seven years ago, Tarren and Tammy fell into the trap of their greatest enemy, my biological father, Grand. He whisked them away to one of his horror factories and spent hours slicing Tarren open, expertly avoiding his major arteries. By the end of it, Tarren was weak with blood loss, disoriented. Even with his skill set, Tarren could have never escaped in that condition, not without Grand’s tacit permission. Yet Gabe never questioned this story. Never wanted to.
Tarren is quiet for only a moment, but I see his shoulders tense, as if he’s gathering up all his reserves of courage before charging into a hail of bullets.
“After Grand finished torturing me, he infected Tammy. He turned her into an angel.” Tarren’s voice is perfectly steady, monotone. He could be reading the dictionary instead of shattering Gabe’s world. “We were in the same room. Grand wanted me to see. He enjoyed it. Watching me watch her. It took hours for her to change, and it was painful.”
I don’t have to imagine. I remember what the change was like. Liquid fire under my skin, burning, burning, burning as my bones and muscles contorted, as my entire body became something different.
Only the smallest strands of crimson pain leak through Tarren’s controlled aura as he continues, “And then, when it was finished, when she was starving for energy, he put a knife at my feet and unchained us both. He said that he would unlock the doors in three hours.”
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