Blood Retribution Page 9

  Once it was quiet at the residential complex, Bridget would go check out Officer Hawk’s apartment. Elka’s orders had been clear. Four or five quick shots into his face with the silenced .380 autoloader, removal of his head with the meat cleaver she’d bought at the local Wal-Mart, and Patrolman Hawk’s immortality would come to an abrupt end.

  The problem was that she’d never really killed anyone. She’d lied to Elka about that. The closest she’d come was when she’d turned fourteen—the last night she spent at home. Her stepfather had sneaked into her room after midnight. She’d screamed for her mother to come and help, but soon it became clear she was on her own. Bridget had fought him off with a kitchen knife, left him with a few souvenirs, then locked the door. The next morning she’d stolen money from her mother’s purse and run away.

  Once or twice since becoming a vampire she’d considered going back and ripping off one or more of her stepfather’s body parts. But that wouldn’t have solved the real problem—the reason she’d never return home again. Her mother had been in the house that night and had heard her scream for help, yet she’d done nothing about it.

  But all that was history. After they finished with Elka’s retribution, she’d be on her own. Elka had agreed to let her go when the job was done. And five million bucks would make sure she could get as far away from Elka as she wanted.

  Killing Officer Hawk was worth three million/Helping Elka get the ex-CIA man responsible for the destruction of Elka’s vampire family was worth an additional two million. After that was all over, she’d be rich and, more important, free.

  Lee tried not to let recognition show in his expression. They’d met before, and though Angela had caught the scent of his vampire blood, he’d allowed her to escape. He’d hoped to use her and her skinwalker pack to help him track down the vampires he’d been after. It had been a good plan that had worked—except for one little glitch. Angela was still alive and a very real threat to him now.

  The young Navajo woman still mesmerized him. She looked so much like Annie, his late—and only—wife. But this woman was a predator with a black heart. His hand moved imperceptibly toward the grip of his pistol as he tried to think of what to do next.

  “Mr. Nelson, you’re staring at me. Shame on you.” She smiled again, her whole face lighting up. Angela was acting, of course, but the results were almost convincing. His gaze drifted down slowly to her tight satin blouse and formfitting jeans. If she was carrying a weapon at all, it was either at her back or neck. It couldn’t be beneath her blouse; everything there was natural. Her shoes were slip-on, the kind women called pumps, so he could rule out a boot knife.

  The real issue right now was exactly when and how she’d expose him as a police officer—or worse, a vampire. “I’m sorry, Miss … Angela. I was expecting another tough Navajo, built like a cement truck. Maybe a little tougher than the guy over there bleeding to death.”

  She glanced at Long-hair’s inert body indifferently, then walked slowly around him, subtly trying to hold his attention as a man came out of the storeroom. Her Navajo companion fit the built-like-a-truck description. He was in his late forties, and had long stringy hair that nearly reached his waist. His face was streaked with light-colored scars that must have come from an encounter with a barbed-wire fence or a major knife fight.

  Lee knew that the nonfatal bite of a skinwalker was what turned Navajos into shape-shifters, but whoever had bit him in the first place must have paid a terrible price. The man carried a sawed-off shotgun in his hand the way anyone else would hold a pistol. Lee decided he’d be equally dangerous when taking animal form and couldn’t help but wonder if the guy was big enough to become a bear.

  Big bear guy grabbed Long-hair by his good arm and dragged him into the back room, leaving the unconscious man there on the floor, out of sight. Then the big guy came back out.

  “They call me Stump,” the man said, introducing himself. “Jacob Tsosie was supposed to make a delivery the other day, but never showed up at the silversmith’s shop. How did you meet him, and what are you doing with his delivery?” Stump’s voice was higher in pitch than Angela’s, but Lee kept a straight face. A smile could be fatal, and he was already living on borrowed time.

  “Like I said, this guy calling himself Jacob Tsosie came into my shop, told me that he had to leave town in a hurry, but wanted me to take this merchandise to the people he worked with. Silver Eagle, it says on the box. He offered to pay me fifty bucks and even said that my business and yours might be compatible. He told me where you were, and suggested I come and let you see what was in the box. But he warned me that you’d probably be pretty squirrely at first. Guess that was an understatement.”

  “Is that it, Nelson?” Stump’s voice went down a pitch, but Lee could see his grip tightening on the shotgun.

  “No. He didn’t say where he was going, but he did mention that if I tried to screw with you guys I’d get eaten alive. Then he laughed and drove off in his Chevy.”

  Out of the corner of his eyes, Lee could see Angela running her tongue along her lower lip. She was toying with him, letting him worry about what she’d do next. At least the Buckscent seemed to be working. He’d never been around a skinwalker before that had showed this kind of restraint when confronted with his scent, much less two at a time.

  “That’s why I’m trying to be up front with you now. If your people have a source that can provide the quality of the turquoise and other supplies Tsosie was carrying, I definitely want to do business with you and Silver Eagle. Is that going to be possible?”

  “Our business isn’t like yours, Nelson,” Stump said without expression.

  “After meeting your welcoming committee, I gathered that. But I’d really like to deal with a source who can deliver turquoise and silver of this quality. I’ll keep my clients and you can keep yours. And, of course, we’ll make it worth your while.” Lee was going with the plan now.

  “And your partner? Is this her decision as well?”

  “You bet. How do you think we got the cash to start up our business? A bank loan?” Lee countered.

  Stump thought about it for a moment. “I work with other people and we’re going to have to talk about this first.” He motioned to Angela to pick up the cardboard box.

  Lee nodded. “Okay. You have our number. Just leave a message when you decide.”

  “But like Tsosie said—don’t screw with us.” Stump brought the shotgun up and wagged it in the air to make the point. “I’m a little more difficult to deal with than that other fool.”

  “I’ll bet,” Lee said, seeing that the meeting had ended.

  “Good night, Mr. Nelson,” Angela said sweetly, flirting with her eyes. She opened the storeroom door enough to slip inside with Tsosie’s box, picking her way around the blood trail so she wouldn’t slip and fall.

  Stump stood and watched as Lee walked over to the office door. He nodded to Stump, who responded with a movement of his eyebrows. When Lee stepped outside and felt the cool air against his skin, he suddenly realized he’d started to sweat. His exit couldn’t have been better timed.

  He kept an eye on the garage as he stepped into his car, noting that Stump had walked over to the office door. As he pulled out of the parking lot, Lee knew he was still being watched.

  Diane and he had agreed to meet at a designated coffee shop a half hour after he left the garage, so Lee went through the motions he’d learned to shake off anyone who might be following him, then drove directly to their meeting site.

  Diane was already inside, sipping coffee, when he stepped into the all-night establishment.

  Diane was trying to read his expression as he sat down in the chair across from her, but before he could speak a waitress moved toward their table with a carafe of coffee.

  Lee allowed the woman to pour his coffee. “You want cream with that, darling the waitress asked, beaming a tired smile.

  “None for me, ma’am. Just keep the coffee coming.”

  After the waitr
ess had left, Lee finally met Diane’s gaze again. “Well?” she whispered.

  Lee took a long look outside before turning back to her.

  “Think you were followed?” she asked quickly.

  He shook his head. “I doubt they had the skill or the time to set anything up. I just wanted to make sure.” He looked back at her. “I’ve got some good news and some really bad news. Which do you want to hear first?”

  “Just tell me what happened from beginning to end and I’ll judge for myself.”

  Lee nodded, then gave Diane a quick summary before getting down to details. The news about the fight with Long-hair had her shaking her head, but when he got around to Angela, Diane’s jaw dropped despite her cool, professional attitude.

  “I don’t see how you can risk meeting with any of them again, even if the man you nearly killed has already shape-shifted and healed himself. Angela’s going to be the problem. The fact that she didn’t give you up just makes me wonder what she has in mind. But for sure she’s got an angle—count on it.”

  “My guess is that Angela wants me to herself. She’s hoping for immortality and relative immunity from death and I’m her ticket.”

  “Okay, suppose I buy that for a moment. That means you can trust Angela to protect you from the others. But who’s going to protect you from her? You’d really have to watch your back around that girl,” Diane said, pushing her coffee cup aside and leaning forward for emphasis.

  “Yeah, but one thing that might work to our advantage is that she’s only been in that pack for a short time. And I got the idea she’s a very small part of their organization. I think she’s allied herself with them only as a stopgap.”

  “You’ll still have to walk on eggshells, Lee. I don’t like it.”

  “We’ve got to move forward on this, Diane. Can you think of any other way to get inside and learn who’s responsible for the deaths of Sergeant Archuleta and Officer Whitehorse?”

  “We could raid the place tomorrow with a couple of SWAT teams and pick up their delivery men individually. It would close down their operation.”

  “And what would we have then? It would be hard—if not impossible—to prove that the stuff in that storeroom was obtained illegally. The risk of a SWAT operation isn’t justified when all we may end up getting them for is failure to get a business permit or for delinquent gross receipts taxes.”

  “Yeah, you’re right. And everyone who had the common sense to give up peacefully would be back on the street before morning. Do you think they carry the stuff across the border while they are in wolf form?” Diane yawned despite the coffee and checked her watch.

  “Hell, I think the guy called Stump could carry it all by himself. He dragged Long-hair around with no effort at all. Imagine a two-hundred-and-fifty-pound wolf.” He smiled grimly. “Let’s see what they do next and take it from there. For now, shall we call it a night?”

  Diane nodded, glancing out into the parking lot for the tenth time in the last hour. Lee caught the attention of the waitress, pointed to some bills he’d set on the table, then walked outside with Diane.

  Watchful for any form of attack, he moved away from her, giving them both enough space to maneuver and pull their weapons if necessary. Moments later Diane put her car into motion and Lee followed in his own.

  CHAPTER 9

  iane went right to bed when they returned to her apartment, but Lee stayed up, going over the days events and making notes for his next report for Lieutenant Richmond. Nightwalkers didn’t need much sleep.

  The next morning, Lee retrieved their office messages. There were a few business-related calls from new clients but nothing from Silver Eagle.

  They’d gone to work behind the counter and were showing some matched turquoise stones to a walk-in customer when the entry bell rang. Lee looked up and saw Stump standing there in a long topcoat and headband. His arms were crossed in front of his chest and the sight reminded Lee of one of those “professional” wrestlers promoted on television. He could just see Stump’s face and name on a black T-shirt.

  “Oh, my,” Diane muttered. The long-haired Anglo customer in front of her, a silversmith in his mid-fifties and reminiscent of a sixties hippie except for the designer jeans and polo shirt, turned his head and just stared.

  Lee smiled, but thought of the shotgun that might be under the coat. His right hand went down to rest on the grip of his handgun. “May I help you, sir?”

  “Yeah. Where’s the bus depot?”

  “From here, go south to Silver, then east. It’s between First and Second. You can’t miss it.”

  “Okay.” Stump looked at Diane, the slack-jawed customer, then back to Lee. Then he turned and left.

  Their customer looked back at the turquoise. His hand was shaking slightly as he picked up one of the small plastic bags, and he laughed nervously. “Street people were a little less intimidating in my time.”

  “And in my time as well,” Lee joked.

  Diane smiled, but the customer just looked at Lee strangely. Five minutes later he left with sixteen carefully matched turquoise stones intended for a squash blossom securely in his pocket.

  “That guy in the trench coat had to be Stump,” Diane said, putting the remaining stones back below the counter again.

  “Yeah and, for a moment, he sure had me wondering, but I guess all he wanted to do was see if our business card was for real.”

  “So you think we’re going to hear from them?” She reached down and checked her own weapon, tucked away in a small holster at her waist.

  “Maybe not in that way,” he replied, and she looked up and saw he’d seen what she’d just done. “But beware of strange Navajos in long coats, they may be concealing a sawed-off shotgun, or worse.”

  “What could be worse? A flamethrower?”

  The afternoon passed slowly, and just as they were locking up for the day, the telephone rang. Diane picked it up. “Turquoise Sky, this is Diane Santiago.” She turned and nodded at Lee. “Yes, we hoped you’d be interested in discussing a business arrangement. Yes, that will be fine. Nine tonight will work for us. Who should we ask for? The Nelson party. Of course the dinner will be on us. See you then.”

  She hung up, then raised her hand and high-fived Lee. “Yes! We’re meeting with ‘their people’ tonight at Cabezon’s for a business dinner. The bad news is they booked a table under your name.”

  “Stump could break our budget. Anything else?”

  “Here’s the playback.” Diane replayed the conversation, which was automatically recorded on their system.

  “I don’t recognize the voice of the man. That wasn’t Stump. You heard his voice, he sounds like an eight-year-old Michael Jackson,” Lee said.

  “Tell him that.”

  “No thanks. Shall we go home and get ready for our dinner with the bad guys?” Lee locked the front door.

  “You think we’ll actually be able to set up some kind of deal, or can I expect something out of the Godfather?” Diane asked.

  “I remember the restaurant shooting in the book. That the one you mean?” Lee added some sunblock to his hands from a small squeeze bottle he kept in his pocket.

  “Right. I rented it on video a few years ago. Wanted to see what you old folks enjoyed,” she said with a teasing grin. “But I was just kidding about the shootout. That would be bad for their business as well as ours.”

  They’d already worked up a plan to E-mail in their required reports—encrypted, of course. Since operations like these demanded that an undercover team change the original plan as often as the situation required, staying in touch in this manner was a necessity.

  Once they’d sent in reports detailing the day’s events—minus the skinwalker aspects—Lee and Diane prepared to meet with the Silver Eagle smugglers.

  Five minutes before the set time, Lee and Diane drove up in his vehicle. Both were wearing dressy leather jackets, which helped conceal their weapons, but since most restaurants in the area couldn’t care less about ties, L
ee hadn’t bothered with one.

  Lee noticed that Diane looked especially nice tonight and wondered if she was expecting Angela to attend the meeting and was making sure she didn’t look like anyone’s consolation prize. Diane didn’t know it yet, but she had nothing to worry about. They were both beautiful women, but Diane had a lot more class. If he hadn’t known she’d grown up in a middle-class family from the North Valley, he’d have thought she was old money.

  The restaurant was on a side street, with half of the tables outside in a courtyard patio area under a big tree. Their “guests” had already arrived and been given a large round table in a corner of the patio with a high wall to their backs. A large outdoor heater kept the chill out of the air and was noticeable immediately as they stepped closer to the table.

  Lee touched Diane’s hand lightly, then switched sides with her as they approached so he could sit farthest from the heater. Although he’d sprayed himself just minutes ago with Buckscent, he didn’t want to perspire on his own and alert their dinner companions. He hated smelling sweaty in public but, fortunately, according to Diane, he wasn’t quite at the locker-room level.

  Lee nodded to Stump, who was wearing a long leather coat, white shirt, and black slacks. Tonight, his hair was tied in a ponytail. He didn’t look much like a street person anymore, though he was obviously security, not the brains.

  Beside him was a striking Navajo woman in her early fifties, perhaps, with long silvery black hair topped with a beautiful coral and silver barrette. As he drew closer he noted the intense, shiny black eyes that stared back at him. Beside this matriarchal figure was a tall, slender Navajo man who could have been her son. He had a narrow face for a Navajo, with delicate features and squinty eyes. He was wearing a beige Western-cut suit with a powder blue tie. A slight bulge beneath his arm suggested either a very fat wallet or a handgun.