Keri Arthur - Moon Sworn

I could hear Jack’s voice echoing lightly, but it wasn’t clear enough to understand. A second later, Quinn leaned forward and kissed me. “We’re a go. Jack will contact you when I’ve taken down all the guards.”

I ran my fingers lightly through his silky hair, taking care not to touch any skin and disturb the sunscreen. “Be careful.”

“There are only four of them. Piece of cake.” He smiled and winked, then climbed out of the car.

I leaned forward, watching him stroll casually toward the big black fence. The security cameras were rotating, but away rather than toward him. He glanced around, then with a leap any shifter or wolf would be proud of, disappeared over the fence.

I blew out the breath I’d been holding, and Rhoan glanced at me. “He’ll be fine.”

“I know. The man was a cazador, after all.” And four security guards, however well trained, weren’t going to present much of a problem for a man who spent hundreds of years as a hit man for the vampire council. “It doesn’t stop the worry.”

“Then you know what he goes through every time you walk out the door.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Now, there’s a case of the pot calling the kettle black.”

“I was a guardian when Liander met me. He knew going in what he was getting into.”

“I still worked for the Directorate. I handled the care and feeding of a boatload of vampires. That’s not a riskfree job.”

He raised an eyebrow. “But it doesn’t exactly hold the same level of danger as being a guardian, does it?”

“No.” I drew in a breath and released it slowly. “Which is why I’m talking to Jack once this job is over.”

“Talking to Jack about what?” Jack said, into my ear.

I jumped. The external earpieces were so comfortable, I’d totally forgotten they were in.

“It’s not important right now,” I said. “Have you got any word on Quinn’s progress?”

“Two guards are down, and he’s just tackling the third now.” He paused. “The third one is down.”

“And the last?”

“Inside the main house. We can’t risk trying to draw him out and alerting Daskill, so Rhoan, you slip in through the back and take care of him. Riley, your task is Daskill. He’s upstairs with his wife.”

Great. Just what I need to see—a bad guy having sex. “I’m gathering all security will be down by the time we get to the doors?”

“Sal’s finishing it now. She reverse-coded, so it’ll appear on when it’s off.”

“Give me a few minutes to get around the back,” Rhoan said, his hand on the car door handle. “And be careful.”

“If one more person says that to me,” I said, an edge in my voice, “I’m going to punch them.”

He merely smiled. “We just got you back. Give it a week and we’ll be back to our uncaring selves.”

I snorted and pushed him lightly. “Get out and go. The sooner we get this done, the sooner we can get back to the real business at hand.”

The amusement fell from his eyes. He knew just what that involved. And, like me, he wasn’t happy about it—

even though it had become a necessity if we were ever to live free of Blake’s shadow.

He touched a hand lightly to my cheek, then opened the door and climbed out. Like Quinn, he disappeared easily and quickly over the wall.

I glanced at my watch and waited a couple of minutes, then grabbed the car keys, climbed out, and locked up. This might be a posh area, but that didn’t mean unlocked cars were any safer.

I shoved my hands into the pockets of my sweatshirt and strolled toward the fence. The damn thing towered over me, and, wolf or not, I had trouble just grabbing the top, let alone hauling my ass over the edge.

I really needed to work on my upper body strength, I thought, as I landed rather inelegantly on the other side.

The lawns were landscaped and there wasn’t a blade of grass to be seen, but the shiny white rocks clashed nicely with the green and red cordylines and native wild grasses.

My skin crawled with sudden awareness, and I glanced around to see Quinn walking through the shadow provided by the towering fence. Although walking was something of a misnomer—gliding would have been more apt.

Rhoan’s in the house . He stopped beside me, his gaze on the house. Daskill and his wife are still upstairs. There is a second life-form on the ground floor .

I cursed softly. Besides the guard, you mean?

Yeah. I suspect it’s either the butler or the chef. I know Daskill employs both .

Lazy bastard .

Amusement played around his mouth. The mega-rich do like their little treats. And he probably won’t live long enough for them to get old .

There was no probably about that .

Okay , he added, the guard is down. Rhoan is moving to the back of the house. Time for you to go .

I blew him a kiss, then ran across the carefully manicured garden, my steps so fast and light I didn’t disturb any of the rocks.

The security box near the front door sat in the alarmed position, and I hesitated fractionally before grabbing the handle and opening the door. No alarms sounded. Sal had done her job well.

I closed the door and looked around to get my bearings. The entrance hall looked bigger in life than it had on the plans, the ceiling double height and dominated by a massive gold chandelier. Four doors led off the entrance and a glass staircase complete with a gold banister curved its way up to the first floor. The scent of unknown werewolf was coming from the living area, which was the door on my immediate right, and from the back of the house came Rhoan’s familiar tang as well as the soft hint of roses. Given that it was accompanied by the mouthwatering aroma of freshly baked bread, I was betting it belong to the chef.

I headed for the stairs. Rhoan reappeared as I reached for the banister, and I raised an eyebrow in question. He raised a finger, then folded it half down. Meaning the chef was out for the count.

And if the crumbs on his shirt were anything to go by, so was whatever he was baking.

We climbed the stairs swiftly but silently. There were six doors leading off the overly large hallway, one of which was the bathroom, one a study, and the others were bedrooms. Daskill’s was the last one on the left.

We crept forward, every step swallowed by the lush thickness of the carpet. Obviously, no one had told him shag pile had gone out of fashion with the Dark Ages.

There wasn’t a whole lot of noise coming out of the bedroom. Daskill and his wife were obviously quiet types. Either that, or they’d finished—although the scent of lust and desire riding the air was increasing, not fading.

I glanced over my to brother and motioned to the other side of the double door frame. He nodded and moved past me, his movements a blur as he raced across the open space.

There was still no indication that Daskill and his missus had any idea something was wrong.

Rhoan raised three fingers and began counting them down. I got my laser out but didn’t fire it up. The damn things were noisy and, in the hush surrounding us, would have been too obvious.

The last finger went down. We moved as one into the room, Rhoan going to the right and me to the left. Like everything else in the house, the bedroom was white and gold. The only spot of color was Daskill’s ass, and the black and silver of the guns sitting on either bedside table.

Daskill really didn’t like to take chances.

She saw us first, and her eyes went wide. As she opened her mouth to scream, I fired up the laser and heard its echo from the other side of the room.

“Bobby Daskill,” I said, slipping my free hand into my pocket and withdrawing my ID. “You’re under arrest on suspicion of murder. Please move away from your wife and stand with your hands up.”