Then I saw movement and ducked, pulling her down with me, gesturing for her to hide in the dress racks and to stay absolutely silent. It was a bridal shop, so nearly all of the racks had floor-length gowns. Peeking around a gorgeous, slinky red silk I couldn’t wear on my best day, I saw a pair of men in business suits moving quickly but nearly silently through the store, guns in hand. That must mean the two guards outside hadn’t survived. Damn it.
The first covered the second, who pushed back the door of each dressing room in turn. The way they moved told me there were wearing bulletproof vests under their dress shirts. They switched positions for the second rank of changing rooms. They were definitely pros.
Adriana stayed silent, but only to those with no telepathy. In my head, she was terrified, indignant, and angry. You expect me to hide?
Hell, yes. You’re the one they’re after and you’re unarmed. Let me do my damned job. Stress always made my telepathy work better and I knew Adriana could hear me clearly.
Fine. But give me one of your guns.
I risked a glance at her. What? Are you nuts?
My cousin gave me a scathing look. I know how to shoot. And if something happens to you, I’d like to at least be able to defend myself.
She had a good point and I didn’t have time to argue. I handed her the derringer from my boot and slithered as quietly as I could to the next rack.
They’d reached the last dressing room and found it empty. Scowling, they started scanning the store. They knew we had to be in here. But they didn’t see us and they were running out of time. Police sirens wailed in the distance, closing fast. If the attackers didn’t go soon, there’d be no chance of escape.
They split up, each moving down an aisle of racks. I shifted position, getting ready. Switching off the safety, I braced my gun hand and waited until the first man leaned down to check under the counter. Then I stood. It only took a second, but I felt like I had all the time in the world. The second guy turned at my movement, his gun pointed straight at me. But he hesitated for just a fraction of a second. I didn’t. I fired three rapid shots into the central mass of number two’s neck before diving under a clothing rack, rolling as fast as I could through the tangling fabric. Even if the bad guys always seem to wear vests, they nearly always forget to protect their necks. A head or neck shot will kill you just as dead.
Number one fired at where he assumed I must be. Close, no cigar. I felt the sting of splintering white oak flooring entering my flesh through my jeans, but the bullets themselves missed.
The police sirens were close now. Swearing, the assassin bolted out the back door. I heard the roar of an engine and the squeal of tires, and he was gone.
I bolted out from under the rack and started to give CPR to Thug Two. I would be damned if he was going to die before he told me why they wanted Adriana dead. My cousin joined me a moment later, just before the police edged in cautiously, weapons drawn. I would have done just the same, considering the dead bodies and blood everywhere. They found me keeping the guy’s heart beating—a bit of a losing battle because Adriana was having a hard time keeping his blood in his carotid artery. I hadn’t meant to sever it, but there you go. Adriana and I had tried to save him, and I knew the EMTs who’d come with the cops would do their best, but the odds weren’t good.
11
“One more time, if you would, Ms. Graves. I understand that you called out as the car was pulling up to the curb and shoved your cousin behind you. No one else had noticed anything wrong with the limo. How did you know there was a problem?”
I sighed and tried to stay calm. It had been a very long, stressful day. I needed to eat. I’d been at the police station for a number of hours by now and, while I can go longer between feedings than I used to, my control isn’t perfect by a long shot. Especially when I’ve been busy trying to save lives.
My stomach growled impatiently. I tried to ignore it, forced myself not to look at the pulse beating so temptingly in the detective’s throat.
Deep breath. The man’s just doing his job. Stay calm. “Most of the others were probably at bad angles, and the windows were tinted. Adriana and I were the last to leave the store, so we had a different point of view, through the windshield.”
“Ah. And what did you see that tipped you off?”
I’d had time to think about it and had finally realized what had been bugging me. “It wasn’t the same driver we’d had earlier in the morning. The first guy’s hair was really short; the second guy’s hair brushed his ears and collar. It also seemed to me that the car was moving too fast. I mean, yeah, the driver might’ve been the kind to slam on the brakes at the curb, but most pros aren’t like that, especially when they’re driving royalty.”
“Detective Rawlins,” my attorney, Roberto Santos, said in his honey-smooth voice, “my client has been extremely cooperative. She has given a full statement.” He was sitting next to me, which was the usual for me when I was being interviewed by the police, at least in this country—even when I was just a witness. He hadn’t had a lot to do thus far, because there were all kinds of witnesses saying that I’d basically saved the day and helped foil an assassination attempt.
Self-defense and defense of the life of another notwithstanding, I’d put three bullets into a guy’s neck. He was dead and I’d killed him. It was all clearly visible on the store’s security feed.
Roberto continued, sounding perfectly reasonable, “Ms. Graves has worked with your sketch artist and given a description of the man who escaped. But she has a serious medical condition that is made worse by stress. I really must insist that we take a break at least long enough for her to use the facilities and to eat so that nothing … unfortunate happens.”
Okay, maybe that was pushing it a little. Of course, Roberto couldn’t know how much progress I’d made in controlling my condition.
“Mr. Santos.” The detective’s lips moved up in a semblance of a smile, but his eyes were cold, hard pebbles set in an equally stony face. “A man is dead. Your client killed him. She shot him, deliberately and repeatedly. She will sit here answering questions for as long as I feel it’s necessary.”
I didn’t sigh. I didn’t fidget. I just closed my eyes and counted to twenty. Perhaps Detective Rawlins was just a good, old-fashioned, hard-headed detective. Then again, it was possible he was one of the members of my “fan club,” the group of officers who’ve decided I’m a monster and are willing to go to almost any lengths to prove it. They want me locked behind bars or put down like a rabid dog. Either way, he was pushing my buttons. That was a very bad thing.
There was a tap at the door. Rawlins made a low, grumbling noise, then rose and left the room, closing the door behind him. I’m sure they didn’t think I could hear them through a closed door, especially since they were speaking softly. But my vampire nature was very close to the surface now, and that made eavesdropping easy.
“You have to let her go,” said a man’s voice, not one I recognized.
“The hell you say! She’s a freaking killer. She’s admitted it.” That was Detective Rawlins.
“Doesn’t matter. It was a righteous shoot. Even if it wasn’t, she’s got diplomatic immunity from two countries. She’s also a freaking celebrity, and she just foiled an assassination attempt on members of a royal family. We’ve got press screaming for blood, politicos riding our ass, and no good reason to keep her. We can bring her back in if we need to. For now, cut her loose.”