Chapter Sixteen
That was the niggling familiarity of this place. He had been here once before, more than a decade ago, he and Quentin and a squad of raiding Enforcement Agents, responding to rumors of an illegal hunting party organizing a night of sport at Boston's suburban Blue Hills Park. He didn't have to hear the animal howl of one of the vampires in pursuit of these doomed humans to know he was standing in the midst of a game for the most depraved of his kind. Banned by Breed law for centuries, clubs that arranged the pursuit of humans as sport - and anything else a vampire could desire - had been condemned but not completely abolished. There were still those who defied the laws. There were still those closed social circles with their very exclusive memberships, catering to the Breed's perverted elite.>"Why would they be looking for us?" she asked as she hurried along at his side, panic fluttering on dark wings in her breast. "How would Dragos know we were in New Orleans?"
"Because someone told him where to look," Hunter answered tersely. "Someone I should have killed when I had the chance."
Victor Bishop.
Oh, God. He had betrayed her once again.
What a stupid mistake to think he wouldn't. Even worse, she had made it possible by persuading Hunter to spare him. Now she could only hope it wouldn't cost either one of them their lives.
Chapter Fifteen
Sick with the thought, furious with regret, Corinne held tightly to Hunter's hand as he hauled her through the crowd toward the darkened rear of the establishment.
They burst out the back door of the place, Hunter's sole objective to get Corinne Bishop to safety. As the steel door swung open onto the rear alleyway, a pair of Breed males wearing Enforcement Agency suits scrambled to attention at their post outside. Too late.
Hunter had them sized up and dismissed as insignificant obstacles even before the first one had a chance to reach for the firearm holstered at his side. Releasing Corinne's hand, Hunter grabbed the head of the male in front and gave it a violent twist. The spinal column cracked like muffled gunfire as the body dropped lifelessly to the ground.
The second guard went down just as swiftly.
Hunter glanced back at Corinne, who stood behind him, stricken into silence. "Come," he said. "We don't have much time."
Hunter pulled his cell phone from his pants pocket as they raced along a maze of narrow back alleys. He called Boston and relayed to Gideon what was happening.
"Shit," the warrior muttered on the other end. "If Dragos is worried enough to send assassins down to New Orleans, I guess it's safe to assume that the connection between Dragos and Vachon is a valid one."
"Which means the connection between Bishop and Dragos remains as well," Hunter replied as he navigated past a voodoo shop selling chicken's feet and other animal parts down one particularly strange alley. "That's an issue I will take up with Bishop later."
Gideon blew out a sharp exhalation. "No need, my man. Victor Bishop was killed this afternoon in his Darkhaven. The report filed with the Agency in Detroit stated that he'd attacked his Breedmate and might have done much worse if he hadn't been stopped by one of his security staff at the estate."
"Who killed him?"
"Guy named Mason, according to the reports."
Hunter grunted in acknowledgment, recalling the protective manner of the Darkhaven guard who'd been at the gates when he and Corinne arrived. He glanced at her now and saw the look of understanding creep over her pale features as she struggled to keep up with his long strides. At least Victor Bishop had wounded her for the last time. Some irrational part of him wished it had been his hands that ended the duplicitous bastard for all he'd done to her. "We need someplace to go," he told Gideon.
"You're not at the hotel?"
"No. The maps and my weapons were left in the room."
"Well, consider them gone. You can't go back there now, my man. Too damned risky."
An obvious conclusion, Hunter thought. If Dragos's men had been sweeping the city for some sign of them, he had to assume they would also be checking area hotels.
"Listen," Gideon said. "You just lost the advantage of surprise with Vachon. Lucan's here with me now and he agrees. Taking this mission on solo right now is too risky. Plus, you've got the female to think about. Lucan says it's time to abort. Head back to the plane. I'm gonna see about getting you the hell out of there right now."
Hunter felt an argument rising to the tip of his tongue. It tasted odd to him, he, who'd been raised to follow commands, to never question his orders. But part of him wanted to see this out - wanted to see Henry Vachon and Dragos both punished for what had been done to Corinne and the others. It grated to think this lead would go cold simply because he'd forfeited one tactical advantage.
Before he could make that point to his brethren in Boston, Gideon came back on the line.
"I just spoke to the pilots. They'll be gassed up and waiting for you to arrive. How far are you from the airport?"
Hunter navigated out of their current alleyway and found a street he recognized that would lead to one of the main thoroughfares through the French Quarter. "We're on foot now, but twenty minutes at the most by vehicle."
"Get there," Gideon said. "Call in once you're airborne. Then we'll find someplace for you both to lay low until the shit settles down up here. We can't afford to take any more hits to our ranks. Bad enough we're down one man already."
"Down one?" The remark caught him unaware. Something cold and tight clutched in his belly at the thought of losing one of his fellow warriors. "Has there been a death in the field?"