Chloe Neill - Blood Games

In that drawn moment, that slow interlude, I saw his finger move and felt the sudden heat, the concussion of air from the primer’s ignition. I spun to the ground, my hair whirling around me, fingertips grazing across cold, wet asphalt.

The bullet whizzed over my shoulder, high and to the left. It would have missed, even if I’d been standing.

The steady hand, the steady gaze, the ability to park that car on a dime, and he’d missed the shot?

I whipped my head around to look back at him again.

“Bang,” he mouthed, fangs glinting at the corners of his mouth.

With the ear-piercing shriek of rubber on asphalt, he peeled away and onto the road again.

Sirens exploded through the darkness as police cruisers stormed up the drive and after the car. And just like that, the chase was on.

A sorceress and her retinue of vampires—which included Jonah and the runners from Cadogan House—rushed toward me.

“Jesus, Merit!” Mallory put her hands on my arms, squeezed, looked me over. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” I assured her, giving Jonah a nod, although my hands and knees shook with built-up adrenaline and fear. But I made myself keep standing. “I’m okay. What about Ethan? Where’s Ethan?”

“He’s fine,” Brody said. “They’re on their way back to the House. Luc took the long way home. Didn’t want to get stuck on the freeway.”

Where they’d have been sitting ducks. Good plan.

“And Malik?” I asked.

“At the House, and he’s fine, too. Kelley and Juliet are with him—and they aren’t letting him out of their sight.” They were the two remaining Cadogan guards, good and experienced. “Kelley said there’s been nothing unusual there. Maybe this was someone showing off?”

I made a noncommittal noise. This wasn’t a vampire showing off; this was a vampire trying to make a very specific point. “We’ll see,” I said.

Christine, a lithe and pretty vampire, stepped forward. She wore workout gear in vibrant shades of purple, and her sable hair was pulled into a perfect ponytail. Her makeup was also perfect despite the three-mile run; she looked like she’d just stepped out of an ad for VitaBite, Blood4You’s new line of vitamin-enhanced drinks.

“What should we do?” she asked me.

I glanced around. A few of the human spectators had been injured in the chaos, and Catcher and Jeff helped the CPD calm and stabilize them while waiting for the EMTs. And with Luc and Ethan gone, I figured that made me the Cadogan vampire in charge.

I gestured toward the human crowd. “Mallory, Brody, why don’t you give Catcher and Jeff a hand with the humans?”

Mallory nodded, squeezed my arm, and set off at a jog. Brody followed.

I looked back at the rest of the Cadogan vampires. They weren’t guards or staff, but House civilians. They needed to get to safety.

“For now,” I said, “until we figure out what’s going on, get back to the House. That’s the best option until Ethan gives us orders.”

At least I hoped it was the best option. But they agreed without argument, nodding and pulling off racing bibs as they headed for vehicles or the El.

That left Jonah and me alone together.

“Merit, what the fuck was that?”

“It was about the GP,” I said, looking up into his worried blue eyes. “The driver said Ethan had to stay in Chicago and out of London.”

“Jesus,” Jonah said, eyes wide. “Did you recognize the driver?”

“He was in the crowd—I saw him before the race. Vampire, no obvious accent, presumably someone who doesn’t want Ethan to challenge Darius. But he said he was just the messenger.”

“Because he works for Darius?”

“Maybe. Or for someone who has a vested interest in control of the GP—and doesn’t think Ethan would be sympathetic.” I scanned my mental list of the other eleven Houses’ Masters; the driver didn’t match any of them. But he did have one noticeable feature.

“The driver had a crescent-shaped tattoo near his left eye. That mean anything to you? Symbolize something vampirey?”

“Is ‘vampirey’ a word?”

I just looked at him.

“Sorry,” he said, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “You’re not the only one who uses sarcasm to cope. Unfortunate tendency.”

“My tendency isn’t unfortunate. And I’ll take that as a no.”

Jonah nodded. “That’s not a marker that’s familiar to me. There are some Rogue subgroups on the West Coast who use ink to mark their lack of affiliation.”

“Ironic.”

“Very. But they’re the only ones I know of. Anyway, I can check the RG archives. That’d be the way to go.”

“The RG has an archive?”

He rolled his eyes. “As partners go, you’re not terribly impressive.”

“Thanks, darling. I appreciate you, too.” But the comment hit home. Most RG partnerships were intimately close—physically and emotionally. I couldn’t offer that kind of relationship to Jonah, but I hadn’t been great with the business end of things, either. I always seemed to be dealing with some vampire drama or other.

“Don’t take it personally,” he said, knocking me playfully on the shoulder, a grin in his almond-shaped blue eyes. “We knew when you came on board that you’d be a different kind of guard.”

I blinked at him. “I really want to discuss that at length, but maybe at a more appropriate time.”

“You need to go back to the lighthouse,” Jonah said. “It’s past time.”

I couldn’t argue with that. The RG was headquartered in the lighthouse that stood sentinel at the harbor in Lake Michigan. In the several months I’d been an RG member, I’d visited only once.

“You have my word. Although it might be hard to get away right now, all things considered.”

Jonah’s phone rang. He pulled it out, checked the screen. “That’s Scott. I need to get back to the House. I’ll message you tomorrow.”

I nodded, watched him walk away.

“They lost the driver.”

I glanced behind me, found Catcher moving toward me from the group of bystanders. I didn’t mistake the grimness in his voice. “You’re kidding me.”

“Unfortunately not. He ditched the vehicle, and the CPD lost him on foot in Little Italy. They’re canvassing the neighborhood. Maybe they’ll get lucky.”

“Maybe,” I agreed, but I didn’t think so. He was a vampire, and probably stronger and faster than the uniforms.

“The forensic unit’s on the way,” he said. “They’ll check the car, grab the bullet casings, see if they can get fingerprints. Maybe they can match the weapon to another crime, get us an ID.”

I nodded. “Maybe. The driver was a vampire. He was here for Ethan. Had a warning to pass along,” I said, and told him what the driver had said.

Catcher’s brow knitted with concern. “Is Ethan safe?”

“Last I heard,” I said, but I pulled out my phone to check for an update and found the waiting text: EAGLE HAS LANDED.

“He’s home,” I confirmed, the band of tension across my shoulders easing just a bit.

“Well, that’s something. Good thing he was out of here before he could see you play chicken with a few thousand pounds of American-made steel.”

I grimaced. I wasn’t sure Ethan had missed my stand against oncoming traffic, but I was pretty sure I’d know the second I put a toe in the House again. He’d be furious if he’d seen.

On the other hand . . . “When your body is your only weapon, you use it.”

Catcher smiled, and there was a tiny gleam of pride in his eyes. He’d been my trainer before Ethan, the first man who’d taught me to stand, to fall, and to bluff.

“I couldn’t agree more. You did good.”