Then I turned and leapt for the second man, who was already running. I hit him in the back, the weight of my body dragging him down. He slammed into the floorboards with a grunt, but twisted and punched. The blow caught my cut lip, sending my head snapping backward and blood flying. I cursed, smashed an elbow into his face, then wedged the tip of my stolen weapon under the point of his chin. His sour scent told me he was the wolf I'd smelled earlier.
"Try something like that again, and I'll blow your frigging head off," I growled.
"Okay, okay," he rasped, voice showing more anger than fear.
For the first time, I got a good look at him. Saw the flat, nondescript features, beady gray eyes, and harsh, uncompromising mouth.
It wasn't a stranger I'd beaten up and threatened.
It was Patrin.
Chapter Nine
I have to say, my first reaction was one of intense satisfaction. I'd spent a good portion of my younger years afraid of this bastard and his siblings, unable to retaliate for fear of reprisals from their father. To be sitting here on top of him, sucking in the scent of his anger and fear—to see the blood gushing from his smashed nose and split lip—was an undeniably sweet turnaround.
But in the heat of battle I'd forgotten he wasn't alone, and that was a very stupid thing to do.
As the sharp snap of a gun being cocked confirmed.
"Put the weapon down and step away from him." The voice was soft, almost without threat, and that, in my books, suggested that the wolf with Patrin was very dangerous indeed.
I didn't move, didn't look at him, even though just about every sense I had was tuned for the faintest whisper of movement. I continued to stare at Patrin, letting him see the hatred in my eyes, letting him wonder if I really would pull the trigger.
"You willing to bet the life of your employer on the fact you're faster with a gun than I am?" Yes.
"Then you're a fool. And Patrin obviously hasn't told you what I am."
"You're a fucking useless half-breed who needs to be taken down a peg or two, that's what you are," Patrin snarled.
I smiled grimly and wedged the gun barrel into his neck a little harder. Sweat popped out across his forehead and the scent of his fear increased.
God, it felt good. Damned good.
"And who's going to do that, Patrin? You? Or will you run to Daddy for help like you always do?"
"Bitch, I don't need my father's help to take the likes of you. I never have."
"Which is why you're now on your back with a gun shoved into your throat, isn't it?" I said pleasantly.
He snarled and bucked, trying to throw me off. I gripped harder with my thighs, using more force than necessary. Indeed, more force than a wolf should have had. But then, I wasn't just wolf—and he, of all people, should have remembered that.
He swore at me, viciously and fluently. I ignored him, and glanced at the second wolf. He, too, was a red wolf, but from a different pack. His hair was so dark it almost looked black in the fast-disappearing light, and his eyes were golden.
"Please tell your employer if he doesn't remain still, I'm going to be forced to shoot something vital."
"I'm afraid I won't be able to let you do that." He was still using calm tones, and though there was tension to be seen in his lean body, the vibes he was throwing off were all cool confidence.
"And I'm afraid you won't stop me." I hesitated, glancing back at Patrin. "He didn't tell you, did he?"
"Tell me what?"
"That I'm a guardian." I glanced at the second wolf again. "I'm trained to track, fight, and kill vampires. Many of my kills have been several hundred years old, and far faster and stronger than you two ever could be."
Which was more than a slight fabrication of the truth, but neither of them would know that. Besides, I hardly think they'd believe me if I said I'd helped bring down a dark god, and that was nothing but the truth.
"No, he didn't tell me that. But I still can't let you shoot him. I have to try and stop you. You understand."
What I understood was that his calm demeanor suggested he was well trained, and probably a deadly shot. Patrin would only hire the best, after all. And as much as I would have loved to prove a point to these men, I'd really been shot at enough today.
So I eased the gun away from Patrin's neck, emptied the chamber, then pushed the weapon across the floor to the second man. "I actually have no plans to kill him today. Unless, of course, he refuses to answer my questions."
"Fair enough." The flick of movement had me tensing—and suddenly wondering if I'd misjudged him—but he was merely bending to retrieve his weapon. "I'm Kye, by the way."
"I gathered that." I looked down at Patrin again. "If I get off you, are you going to behave?"
"You're the one that attacked me" he all but spat.
"Nice change, huh?"
I climbed off him and stepped back. He got to his feet, rubbing his neck and glaring at Kye.
"So tell me, did that fucker you call Father arrange a hit on me?"
"No, though it's a damn good idea." He dug a handkerchief out of his suit pocket and dabbed rather uselessly at his bloody nose. "Why?"
"Because someone set up an ambush outside, complete with stiver bullets."
"Hence your rather dramatic entrance," Kye said, as he walked across to the window.
"Well, finding strangers sitting in my living room after a close brush with silver does make me a little wary." I looked at Patrin again. "And if you don't tell me why you're here, I might get violent again."
"A letter arrived for me yesterday," he said. "From Adrienne."
I raised my eyebrows. "I thought she was dead."
"She is." His voice was flat, devoid of emotion. Yet the emotion lacking in his voice was all too evident in his eyes. Patrin wasn't only angry, he wanted revenge.
That was why he was here—to hunt down and kill his daughter's murderer. Not an unexpected sentiment, even from a wolf as cold and as uncaring as Patrin.
But the fact that Adrienne had sent a letter meant she'd known whatever she was investigating was dangerous. Perhaps she'd even seen her own death.
I wondered if she'd sent a letter to Jodie. I hoped so. "What did she say in the letter?"
"That something was going on at some club."
"Did she say what?" I walked across to the ironing basket and got a clean towel out. My arm was still bleeding but I didn't want to shift shape with these two men in the room. They might not be out to get me, but I still wasn't about to trust them. And shifting to wolf form would put me at a disadvantage—one the past had proved Patrin would use.
"She said the owners of the club were using one of the rooms to tape politicians and corporate personnel in compromising positions and blackmail them."
So that was why she'd disappeared? Because she'd been sticking her nose in where it didn't belong and had discovered too much? But what, then, was the connection between the club and the island? Why go up there at all if she was investigating the blackmailing?
"We are aware of the blackmail angle." Though we weren't following it up, because I'd forgotten to tell Jack about it. "Did she say who the owners were? Give a description?"
He shook his head. "But if the club's under investigation, you should already know that."
"What's on paper, and what the reality is, are often two different things. As you should know." Hell, thanks to the hours I'd spent listening to conversations I shouldn't have as a kid, I knew that Patrin and his bastard father owned several manufacturing firms. But for tax purposes, their names were hidden by a long paper trail. I glanced at my watch. "If that's all, I need you to leave. I have stuff to do before I go to work tonight."