“It’s the intel guy. Corporal Joran Stevens. The ex-marine.”
He was talking about Angel Tit. All the pleasure drained out of me, leaving my limbs feeling heavy as lead. “Former. Former marine,” I murmured, thinking, trying to take it in. “There are no ex-marines.” I’d had that “no ex-marines” thing made clear to me early on. Except this former marine had turned against his unit. Stupid, disconnected thoughts. Shock.
Angel Tit? I’d thought it would be one of the vamps. I’d hoped it would be a vamp. “Crap,” I whispered. “Let me see what you have.”
Alex had hacked Angel’s e-mail and the evidence was clear, if cryptic. A few months back, Angel Tit had been approached in a Special Forces chat room. Angel had needed money fast. One of his sisters was in trouble with the law and he needed to hire a better lawyer for her than the wet-behind-the-ears public defender the court had assigned. In return for some much-needed cash, he had been asked to provide a bit of seemingly innocuous information about the blood-servants in Leo Pellissier’s household. The information hadn’t been secret, so he had complied. Later, the anonymous person from the chat room needed something else. Then something else. And suddenly Angel Tit was in so deep he couldn’t get out.
The money he had earned hadn’t been that great, but any money gathered by a traitor was enough to get him . . . what? Killed? Kicked out of Derek’s unit? “Print it out,” I said softly.
I turned away and called Derek on my official phone. “Whatchu want, Injun Princess?”
“We need to talk,” I said. “Privately. Can you come to my place?”
“Sure. I’m at Katie’s, watching your boy work on her safe room. Not bad skills for the army. I’ll be there in ten.”
“Fine.” I closed the cell and turned back to Alex. “You did good work. Can you find out the ID of the person who contacted the corporal?”
Alex looked at the screen, pouching out his lips, and back to me. “Maybe. I’ll try. You want everything on him?”
“Yes. I want to know name, banking, family, habits, hobbies, who his pals are, and where he eats breakfast.” Which meant a very deep search indeed. “But for now, go upstairs and shut your door. I need some privacy.” I went to my room and dressed in cleaner clothes. Put on some lipstick. Strapped on a Walther PK380 shoulder harness on top of my T-shirt. The weapon was snug under my arm, but not hidden. I didn’t want Derek to think I was unarmed. I French-braided my hair and tied it with a scrunchy, which was so much better than a string torn from a pocket. I met Derek at the door and held out a hand. “Phone.”
“Why?”
I didn’t answer, my hand outstretched. He put his cell in my hand and I tossed it into my room onto the bed, next to mine, and shut the bedroom door. “We’ve been compromised,” I said. “I want to make sure no one can listen in.”
*
Derek stood at my table studying the printouts. His face was expressionless, his eyes scanning page after page. At one point, he leaned over the table, bracing himself on one hand. His breathing didn’t alter, but his heart rate went up, the pulse in his neck starting to jump. When he reached the last page, he swiveled his head on his neck and looked at me. Took in the Walther and my stance, which was far too relaxed. “You thought I’d need to be shot, Legs?” I didn’t reply. “I’ve seen you fight Grégoire’s half-human goons. I know what you can do.”
I still didn’t reply, and Derek stood upright, his body at an angle to mine, perfect for drawing a weapon if he was wearing a shoulder holster. But he was wearing a low back holster. He’d have to reach behind and pull forward. I’d noticed his weapon was snapped in. Mine wasn’t. I’d have plenty of time if needed. Beast rose in me, staring out through my eyes.
“You can take a lot of abuse,” Derek said. His cheek started a tic and his pulse increased again. He looked at the gun under my arm, taking in the unsnapped safety strap. “You think you can take me?”
“Are you asking me to hurt you because your boy is a spy?”
“Angel’s no boy. He’s a man. He’s faced combat. He’s—” Derek stopped, his breath fast. Betrayal hurt. This betrayal more than most, because Angel had been in Iraq with him. They had been together for a long time.
“He’s your friend,” I said. “He’s in trouble. He should have come to you for help. He didn’t. He’s not happy to be in the position he’s in. He’s hurting.” That was me being compassionate. The next bit was me being me. “And he also has an in with the enemy.”
Derek thought about that. “You want me to use my friend to get to the enemy vamp.”
“If he’s willing.”
“And if he’s not?”
“Then he gets put on ice until this is over with,” I said. “And his sister’s fancy new lawyer drops her case for nonpayment. He’ll deal. He has amends to make and trust to rebuild.”
“You think I’ll keep him around after this?”
I smiled, but it wasn’t a pretty smile. “I hope you kick his ass and turn him over to the cops. People died on your watch, because of him. But I’ll agree that it’s your call.”
Derek dropped his head, then looked up at me under his brows. “I was hoping you’d say something stupid so I could hit you.”
I chuckled. “Sorry to disoblige. But I need you healthy and not laid up in the hospital.”
An unwilling smiled pulled at his mouth. “Someday we’re gonna fight, Princess. For real.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Big words from the tough guy. So, how do you want to play this?”
“Straight up,” Derek said. “Him and me. We’ll talk. Then I’ll kick the crap outta him. And then we’ll use his contacts to draw out our fanghead.”
“Works for me. Do all the talking where there isn’t any electronic surveillance that could be compromised. Let me know when you want me.”
*