Crimson City Part 15

"I'm definitely the winds.h.i.+eld in this one, and you're the bug. You sure you're-"

"I'm totally fine. I swear," she said with a laugh, smoothing down the pleats of her skirt.

Dain smiled back, thinking how unusual it was to see her in the city, particularly since they had fantastic

tennis courts out on the base. She seemed so clean and neat and innocent in her whites. He didn't like her being out here, what with things heating up. "What brings you outside of the base? Oh, wait. You met somebody who works in the city, didn't you?"

She made an exasperated sound, but was smiling the whole time.

He gestured to her tennis outfit. "Don't tell me you've got a date on a night court out here."

She pursed her lips and did her best to look coy. "And what if I do?"

"I'd have to hope you kick his b.u.t.t."

She grinned. "I'll do my best."

Dain laughed. But even as he did, in the back of his mind he was trying to put his finger on what it was

about her today that seemed... off.

"Do I know him?"

"Uh, no. He's a civilian. And I wouldn't tell you if you did. Office gossip is the worst."

"Fair enough. You know, maybe I should take up the game. What do you think of that?" His hand

reached out as if to grab the racket handle sticking out of her tennis bag. She looked taken aback, her fingers gripping her bag just a little more firmly.

"Something wrong?"

"No." She blurted out a laugh, her trademark girlish tinkle filling the air, and started walking backwards.

"Just the thought of you playing tennis..."

"Seriously! We should play sometime."

"Oh, I don't think so. I'd send you to the cleaners, and that wouldn't be pleasant for either of us." Then

Bridget twirled and headed off, her sa.s.sy little skirt swaying around her hips. "Later!"

"Hey, you're not walking there, are you? Didn't anyone tell you there's a bad moon rising?" he called.

"I'm just going around the corner. Gotta run or I'll be late. Bye!" She headed off.

Dain frowned as he watched her go. "At least keep your comm on. And be careful!"

She gave him a wave without turning back.

Dain watched her disappear around a corner. Bridget Rothschild. She only seemed to own one tennis

outfit. It always looked way too tight to play in. And it was always perfectly clean.

Oh, you are so making this up, man. She's just a girl in a tennis skirt. He'd only seen her in tennis whites a couple of times, not enough to read anything into it. On top of everything else, he was becoming paranoid about his coworkers. Not good.

Dain headed across the street in the opposite direction and had his car in sight when the city sirens went off, ramping up into a full-scale wail. He froze for only a second before he turned around and starting running, calling out Bridget's name.

Bridget winced at the high-pitched screeching that pierced the air, and she cursed loud enough to cause even the cretin in front of her to raise an eyebrow. She wasn't really the sort of girl to be afraid of the dark. But on the other hand, it was difficult to stuff the proper weaponry and defense mechanisms into a little tennis skirt or a tennis bag. And there was nothing worse than being unprepared and insufficiently armed.

She heard the sound of a voice calling her name.

Reston. G.o.dd.a.m.n it! He'd come after her because of the siren. Why the h.e.l.l did he have to be such a

good guy? Wasn't anyone ever just concerned for their own personal safety anymore?

Her contact slipped back into the shadows of the alley. "Someone you know?" he said testily.

Bridget ignored him, looking around wildly for an out. "n.o.body can see us together. This is bad."

"Yeah, how are you going to explain this one, Miss Perfect?"

"Shut up," she growled.

"Bridget!" Reston called again. The guy was probably getting off on full SWAT team maneuvers,

ducking into every alley with his gun drawn, looking for her. Bridget swore a blue streak and took her own gun out of her tennis bag. She looked at her contact, who was lolling casually against the brick wall with his arms folded across his chest, and rolled her eyes. "Do me a favor and just get out of here."

"Unseen? I don't see how that's going to happen."

"Bridget, are you there?"

"s.h.i.+t! Okay... move all the way back into the shadows and stay there!"

Her contact gave her a look but complied, chuckling as he moved into the full cover of darkness. "How

are you going to explain this, girl? Looks suspicious..." It did look suspicious. "Bridget!" Reston had practically found her. She tried to come up with a scenario: I was on my way to the courts. This creep took advantage of the all-city warning and dragged me into an alley ... No, that wouldn't work. There were going to be way too many questions. Bridget looked down at her pristine tennis outfit, still perfectly white and unrumpled. With a sigh, she slipped the delicate gold watch off her wrist, tossed it into the shadows, then turned her gun, shot herself in the arm and dropped to the ground. Faking pain wasn't a problem.

A few seconds ticked by, then suddenly Dain hovered over her, immediately moving to staunch the flow of blood. "I heard the shot. What happened? Did you see who shot you?" "Took advantage of the alert... he tried to rob... my watch... got scared..." She shook her head, her face a mask of pain, her head turned at an angle just able to see the toe of her contact's shoe peeking into view. She tried to move so that Dain's back was more to the contact, but Dain gently repositioned her as he talked to the medics over his comm.

"They're coming," he said to Bridget. "Can you give me any details?"

"I'm sorry... I-I didn't see. It happened so fast."

Dain looked at the wound. "Powder burn. He was really close to you."

"Yeah," she said weakly, then turned her head. "I feel sick."

"The shock. Take deep breaths. They'll be here soon. Don't worry."

Somebody else was trying to contact him. Dain kept fiddling with his comm. The light seemed to flash on

and off, but no one managed to speak. He looked at Bridget and smiled. "Whatever."

"Dain!"

Both he and Bridget jumped.

He fiddled with the device some more. "Jesus, Cyd. Your timing is unbelievable. I've got a man down

right in front of me, and there are crazy calls coming in all over the city. I'm sure you heard the sirens."

No answer.

"Cyd? You've cut out again... Cyd?" There was no answer. Dain tapped the base of his comm pack,

but Cyd didn't try again. He rolled his eyes and said something about giving his partner a serious

talking-to. Bridget stared at him, doing her best to look the wide-eyed innocent. His comm beeped again and he gave her an apologetic look. She was more than glad about the distraction. Her contact was toying with her, sticking body parts in and out of the most well-lit spots behind Dain's back.

Bridget looked away. Shooting herself hadn't been the brightest idea, but she just couldn't take the chance of being discovered. Her wound was starting to hurt a lot more, and all she wanted was for Dain to leave her alone. She glanced nervously over at her sports bag, which was lying unzipped on the ground next to her. Dain leaned over her as he fussed with her injury, and Bridget could hear yet another comm come in.

"Dain Reston," said an indignant female voice on the other end. "Areyou having me watched?" Bridget blinked, a nauseous drowsiness dragging her down. Dain laughed and said into his microphone, "I'd do it myself if I was going to have it done."

"I'm being followed, watched. And if it's not you, it's someone I trust even less. Well, sorry to bother you."

Bridget focused on the uppercla.s.s lilt of the woman's accent. It had to be Fleur Dumont. All the brags were talking about Dain and Fleur and their supposed affair, and about how much trouble he was in.

"Where are you?" Dain asked.

"Hollywood and Vine, the night market. But I'm fine; I don't need help. I just wanted to know if it was you."

Dain abruptly hung up and looked at Bridget. He frowned and put his hand to her forehead. "You're really pale. Let's get you back to the office."

Bridget was actually starting to feel quite sick; it was getting harder to manage her emotions, her expressions-it was getting harder to pretend at all. "I'm going to be fine." But her words were so mushed together, she wouldn't have bought them. "I think the medics just pulled up. If you just get me to my feet, I'll walk over there."

He looked at her like she was insane. "Don't fight me, Bridget. I'd say we've got about thirty seconds before you either faint or puke."

She nodded. "I need my bag," was the last thing she managed to get out before she had to close her eyes. Dain put her tennis bag on her lap. She wrapped her good arm tightly around it; then as he collected her in his arms, she finally allowed herself to relax and let the world go dark.

Chapter Nineteen.

Fleur stood on the corner of Hollywood and Vine, in the middle of the night market, tapping on her comm. "Dain? Dain?" He'd already hung up. She heaved an irritated sigh. She'd bet the contents of her jewelry box that he was on his way. She hadn't wanted that-had she?

The street was clogged with people and the sidewalks were packed with the overflow from the bars and restaurants that lined either side. It was overwhelming. She'd dressed to pa.s.s tonight, and might have indulged in the anonymity for a little while, were it not for the fact that she was quite certain she was being followed. Threading her way through the vendors, the scent of oranges and cheap perfume stinging her senses, Fleur retreated into the shadows-all the better to watch rather than be watched.

Something was wrong with the city tonight. And it seemed to be closing in from all sides. Her experience in Dogtown had honed her senses where were-wolves were concerned and as the old saying went, the dogs were restless. They weren't alone. The humans were trigger-happy with those sirens again, and she wouldn't have been able to hear Dain too well even if he'd stayed on the line.

If stupidity didn't kill the humans, paranoia would. Up in strata +1, the wailing sound wasn't so bothersome. More bothersome was trying to figure out why the humans were so intent on believing the vampires wanted to attack. They'd gone around and around with it in the last a.s.sembly meeting. She knew there was tension on the vampire side as well; her people had been on high-alert since the a.s.sa.s.sinations. Everyone was uneasy. And then there were those rogues who always seemed willing to stir up trouble, whether it served a purpose or not. She was wondering when they'd make an appearance. They were whom she'd come to find.

Fleur sighed. Whom to trust? Whom to welcome as allies? And whom to keep at arm's length? She stared at the faces of those milling by the vendors in front of her and tried to guess at who was pa.s.sing for human. If she didn't know them, they weren't vampires of the Primary a.s.sembly. But she couldn't know all the rogues.

Sometimes she thought she saw Hayden's face in crowds, but at second glance could never find it. She had used to search for him in the vampire world above, even knowing he'd never be there. Now, spending so much time at human level, the possibility of seeing him again was very real. And yet, now when she searched the crowd, she wasn't looking for him; it was Dain Reston's face she sought.

Why such a connection to Dain? Why to this man-to this human? Why was she so drawn to him? It was more than the obvious. It was as if something were missing in each of them and the other had the ability to fill that emptiness. What had been lacking in Hayden and what Fleur sensed in Dain was something unique in a human: Dain had a darkness inside that lived in some sort of perpetual disconnect with his world. She could tell from the way that he forced himself to hold back, as if he had to work overtime to fit his human skin because he was drawn to a darker force. Fleur lived with that darkness. The vampire world knew what to make of it, accepting that part of themselves and not condemning it. That's what she'd experienced while killing the wolf. That's what made her people, her people. That's why they had to rely on a code of conduct to maintain their balance between good and evil.

It was Dain who made the two of them a perfect fit for each other. But it was also Dain who, as a human, made them an impossible combination. Fleur could never become human, and she could never go against code again and make Dain a vampire. Once was enough. Once was more than enough.

He must have been close, because it was only ten minutes since she called him before she saw him, far off in the crowd. She saw just his face at first, the face for which she'd found herself looking instead of Hayden's or other rogues. And as she watched him, any irritation about his presumption of a rescue melted away.

Something about the purposeful way he walked toward her, that he'd come to her instantly-it wasn't hard to imagine what it would be like if he were really hers. She didn't step out from the shadows, preferring to watch him look for her. There was a sweetness to it. About the way he sought her out in the crowd-a little impatient, a little excited.

He tried to mask his relief when he finally found her. "Hey," he said distractedly, looking around at her surroundings.