Death's Rival

Leo would know the hearts and intentions of any of his scions he fed from and shared blood with. Had he fed from all the vamps there? I had no idea. No one but Bruiser would know that, which meant that Bruiser might be in danger. Again.

 

Still in the dark, I dressed fast in fighting leathers and when the knock sounded, I was ready. I shoved the last blade firmly in place, gripped one of the Walthers as I walked to the front door. Drawing on Beast speed, I ripped open the door and grabbed Chi-Chi’s shirt collar, yanked hard, pulling him across my leg. He overbalanced and I stepped back, letting him fall. But he was fast. He drew his sidearm as he fell, took the landing on his shoulder and rolled, the gun in a two-handed grip. He had me in his sights. I smiled as I stared him down the barrel of my own weapon. “My 380 will kill you just as dead as your nine-millimeter will me, and all we’ll be is dead. Let’s both just take a minute, okay?” I took a breath and blew it out to show him how to relax. “Did you send someone here to steal?”

 

“Huh?” Honest confusion leaked from his pores, but confusion from what? Landing in my foyer? My question? Or surprise that I had figured it out?

 

I sniffed, searching for anything that might suggest change in his pheromonal state. “Someone broke in here while I was in the shower and stole the blood I collected. That was too fast unless someone was dispatched here from Katie’s. Maybe with orders to kill me if the opportunity arose. Who did you call?”

 

His aim steadied. His full lips firmed. His dark skin gleamed in the streetlight pouring in. “Legs, don’t make me shoot you.”

 

I detected no scent of deception on his body, heard none in his tone. Saw none in his body language. But I firmed my stance. “Who at Katie’s used a cell after I left? Because someone called in a thief with a gun.”

 

I could see thoughts processing, his eyes taking on a slightly unfocused state as he replayed the last half hour. “Five people that I know of, but we dispersed. Could have been more.”

 

“Well, crap.” Why couldn’t it be just one? “If I stand down are you gonna shoot me?”

 

Chi-Chi barked a laugh, the humor not affecting his aim in the slightest. “I might.”

 

Great. “I have a problem with trust when the other guy is armed.”

 

“Don’t we all?”

 

We could stand here all night. And Bruiser could die. Hoping I wasn’t being stupid, I raised the weapon, removed the magazine, and unchambered the round. I stepped back. Chi-Chi shrugged, not easy to do while lying on the floor, and sat straight up. Still using mostly his abs, he rolled to his feet, proving he had stayed in top shape after finishing active duty with the marines. Lastly, he holstered his sidearm. “What entry?” he demanded. I pointed at the kitchen, and, keeping me in his field of vision, he walked through my house as I followed. He knelt and inspected the door, swinging it open and closed. He grunted, “One kick. Size eleven or twelve. Smooth soled, so not wearing boots. All our guys are in boots tonight.”

 

“I knew it wasn’t one of your guys.” I almost added, It was a stranger’s smell, but didn’t. Go, me. I didn’t respond to his odd look either, after my comment about trust problems. What else could I have meant, right? “There may be a security leak in Leo’s chain of command, and it puts Bruiser in danger. He knows who drank from Leo, and therefore which vamps are loyal to Leo and can be eliminated from the short list of potential suspects. The ones who didn’t drink from the MOC may be involved in the attack. Go keep the primo alive.”

 

Chi-Chi raised a single brow. There were three shaved lines in it, giving the brow a jagged look, like a lightning strike. The look said that he wasn’t in my chain of command and didn’t take orders from me. I thought about that, and about the fact that one of Derek’s men might be the traitor. But who better to guard Bruiser than someone who wanted to keep his lack of loyalty hidden? I pursed my lips and added, “Please.”

 

Chi-Chi laughed again, the odd bark of sound. “You have trouble with that word.”

 

“How long have you known the Vodka Boys and the new men in Derek’s Tequila Posse?”

 

“Posse? Nobody says posse no more. We been together off and on for as much as nine years, most of us.”

 

“Any of you have bad financial trouble?”

 

His face hardened in the moonlight. “You calling one of us a traitor?”

 

“Not beyond the realm of possibility. Is it.” It wasn’t a question. The job market in New Orleans sucked. Chi-Chi walked back to the front of the house and out the open door. Without a reply, he disappeared into the shadows, silent as a cat. Drawing my gun, I reinserted the round from my pocket into the magazine, snapped it home, and chambered a round. I stepped into the shadow beside the door, feeling it close behind Chi-Chi.

 

“Your security sucks,” a new voice said.

 

Lips tightly closed, I smiled and crouched low to the floor, pointed my weapon in the direction of the voice. I had smelled him as he entered, a clean but musky undertone that was natural to him. Not my thief. But maybe there was more than one. I could start firing and hope to hit him, or I could chat a bit. Chatting sounded safer. “Unscented deodorant, no cologne, unscented shampoo, and a body odor that says you shower often,” I said. “You carry at least three weapons, all recently cleaned with an aerosol lubricant. Dry lubricant is better. It doesn’t leave such a strong scent.”

 

“Most people can’t smell lubricants after an hour or so.”

 

I adjusted my aim a fraction. “I’m not most people.”

 

“Sergeant Lee said that much.”

 

My insides clenched. Derek sent him? To take me out? “What else did he say?”

 

“You probably aren’t human. You pay well. You need security experts—weapons, tactics, intelligence, and electronics. I’m looking for a crew to join, but if the security of this place is any indication, you aren’t what I’m looking for.”

 

“Not my house. You got a name?”

 

“Younger. Eli.”

 

“Training?”

 

“Courtesy of the U.S. military.”

 

“Ranger?”

 

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