It made an ugly kind of sense. Why risk hiding the women in a residential area when the warehouse and port district had enough ongoing noise to provide cover for any screams in the daytime? As for the night—aside from the odd security guard, the area would be deserted. Giorgio could have redone the interior or a part of it to his standards before moving his captives in.
A perfect prison within relatively short reach of his Vampire Quarter residence.
“Does he import nuts or items that would have the scent?” Janvier asked, the tension across his shoulders telling her his instincts were shouting exactly the same things as her own.
“Yes.” Dmitri brought up a manifest on a tablet, handed it over. “He’s not the only one who imports such goods, but the other shipments are all stored in warehouses shared between multiple companies.”
“And this last?” Putting the manifest down on the table, Janvier tapped the final X.
“A midsized factory that packaged peanuts. Shut down a year ago and left boarded up by the owners.” He brought up images of the four properties on a part of the glass table that Ashwini belatedly realized wasn’t a simple table at all. “The factory also has enough space that your killer could’ve set up a private room inside—and Khalil was one of the financiers behind the venture.”
Janvier hissed at the sadistic vampire’s name, but shook his head. “We check the factory out, but I say it’s Giorgio. Khalil is vicious, evil at times, but he’s never been this sly.”
Yes, she thought, that was the right word. There was a cruel slyness about it all, a sense that the monster had been laughing at his victims; such meanness fit Giorgio with his shiny new house, false bonhomie, and herd of devoted cattle. And there was something else, something she’d seen and forgotten, something important.
She heard Dmitri speak again, mention that Trace had found a dead drug dealer in the same general area, a man who’d been dealing Umber. It was a coincidence too good to be true. But that wasn’t what held her attention, what occupied her mind.
Felicity was whispering to her.
What she had to say changed everything.
“The watch!” Violent anger tore through her, made her voice shake. “Janvier, when we interviewed Giorgio, the bastard was wearing the watch Felicity bought him!” It hadn’t registered at the time except as part of his entire getup. “He was taunting us even then.”
Janvier’s response was a stream of Cajun-flavored cursing that turned the air blue.
Things moved at rapid-fire speed after that. Dmitri authorized them to use whatever force was necessary to bring Giorgio in and rescue any other hostages. Illium and a mixed angelic/Legion squadron would provide aerial backup. Meanwhile, Dmitri would coordinate with Sara to clear the other possible properties, on the slim chance that Giorgio wasn’t the killer.
Ashwini was used to working alone for the most part, but she had no problem being on a team. Especially when the core of that team was made up of her, Janvier, and Naasir. They knew one another’s rhythms, could predict split-second decisions with near-total accuracy and make the necessary course corrections.
Now, the three of them made their way to the suspicious warehouses while another unit cleared Giorgio’s house. If he was there, they’d take him into custody. Ashwini didn’t care about that at this instant—she wanted the bastard to pay, but her first priority was to rescue any other women he’d caged.
Leaving the car some distance away in order to maintain stealth—the one thing they did not want was for Giorgio to murder his victims in a fit of rage—the three of them went onward on foot. “Up,” she said to the two men.
Grinning, Naasir jumped onto a rooftop with a feral grace that was magnetic. But not as compelling to her eyes as Janvier’s fluid leap up. She made the motion for “Go” and they headed onward. The two would take Naasir’s lower skyroad, while she’d go in on the ground, and their aerial backup would drop down from above the cloud layer on their signal.
She tugged down the ball cap under which she’d hidden her hair after dirtying up her face, made sure her battered and patched sunglasses were on her nose, and slouched forward with her hands in the pockets of her raggedy black coat. A young vampire at the Tower had dug up the ankle-length piece out of God knew where.
On her feet were sneakers as ragged. She hated being without her boots, but they were the thing that most often gave people’s true motives away, especially hunters and military types. It was something Saki had taught her soon after her admittance into the Guild.
Shoes and wristwatches, that’s where folks slip up.
So she slouched along, just another street person looking for a place to get out of the cold, pitiful and not the least bit intimidating. When she reached the first warehouse, she made as if to see if she could get around the back and, when that proved impossible, tried the door, muttering nonsense under her breath for effect.
The door was wrenched open from within, the muscle-bound vampire on the other side dressed in a navy suit sans tie, his complexion so white it was eerie. “Git!” He shoved at her shoulder with bruising force, while another body moved in the shadows behind him. “Out! Pestilent vermin.”
Allowing herself to stumble and fall to the concrete frontage swept clean of snow, she held out hands clad in holey gloves. “S-sorry. Sorry. Didn’t know it was occupied.”
The door slammed shut.
Pushing up to her feet, hands over her ears as she rocked, she tried the same thing at the next warehouse, this time more furtively, giving the appearance that she was afraid of being caught again. No response this time, and she picked up not even a hint of sound.
Going with her gut, she said, “First warehouse,” into the tiny microphone attached to the collar of her coat. “Two vampire guards that I saw, armed with guns and possibly knives.” Retrieving her gun from a coat pocket, the silencer already on, she held it in one hand; the coat’s sleeves were long enough to conceal the weapon. “I didn’t hear or see anything to suggest a bigger contingent, but there could be more toward the back.”
Naasir’s voice came through the receiver in her ear. “I will listen.” A minute later. “I hear male laughter, movement, but it is small. No more than two or three.”
Another voice followed Naasir’s. “Giorgio,” Dmitri said, “is not at his home or at any of his known haunts. His cattle are accounted for except for the one named Brooke. She left with him around three a.m.”
Ashwini’s blood ran hot. There was a good chance the bastard was inside the warehouse and he probably had Brooke with him. Not only had she tarnished his name, but her actions had drawn Tower attention; it may have been enough to make Giorgio break pattern and attack a woman who could be linked back to him.
“Give us a minute,” she said to Dmitri and Illium both, then she signaled to Janvier and Naasir.
Quiet as ghosts, the two men whispered across the roof to jump down behind the target warehouse, while she shuffled her way back to the front. Hesitating and mumbling to give them enough time to get in position, she surreptitiously undid her coat to expose the thin T-shirt she wore underneath before knocking on the door.
36
It was pulled open by the same vampire who’d shoved her to the ground.
“You still here?” he snarled. “I told you to git!” Fangs glinted in the sunlight. “Or do you want me to get nasty?”
A vicious guard dog, she decided, one who’d do anything for money. “I was just wondering,” she said, imitating the jerky, scratchy movements of a junkie. No one to worry about. No one important. No one who’d be missed. “Do you have, like, a dollar?” A jerk that made her coat half fall off her shoulder, drawing his attention to her body. “For coffee?”