Once, after a crazy pursuit of several DBs that took all night, he’d found her in the field office computer lab. She’d known he was coming for her and was wriggling off her panties as he stormed into the room. Thinking the place was empty, he shoved her up against the wall, unzipped his fly and plunged himself into her heat.
“Nice ass,” Jackson had said to him the next night when they were shooting hoops in the gym.
“Huh?”
“A couple of us guys were playing poker over at Cordell’s.”
“Yeah, and?”
“You apparently forgot that he set up a live feed to the computer lab to answer questions while he was home helping Shannon after her surgery. We enjoyed the show last night, although all we could see of it was your cute little bum.”
“Glad you liked it,” he’d said, throwing the basketball hard at Jackson’s chest. “Hope you picked up a few pointers.”
“We were glued to the monitors.”
Electronic static crackled in his ear and jerked him back to the present. When he got home tonight, he’d make sure to check for wayward camera equipment first.
He touched his earpiece. “Everyone in place?”
Jonah and Sadie answered first. “Affirmative.” Positioned on the north end of the warehouse, they’d enter the building at the loading docks.
The line crackled again then Jackson said, “Mitchie and I are ready to kick some Darkblood ass.” A grunt and scuffling could be heard through the connection.
“Hey. Ouch.”
Mitch didn’t like that nickname, which only gave Jackson more ammunition to harass him with.
“Ladies, no catfights.”
One more team to report, then they’d go in.
Based on intel Santiago had obtained from a DB captured near Region, they surmised that the shipment contained very deadly weapons—blades and bullets—made from high quality Mexican silver. Merely touching Santa Muerte silver would weaken a vampire, which was why the Agency used it in handcuffs and other restraints. One nick from a blade caused very severe silver poisoning, more than a lesser-quality silver would. If this shit got out on the streets and into the hands of DBs and other reverts, it could cause all sorts of problems. While most Agency-forged blades were made with the stuff, Darkbloods’ weapons weren’t. Having been shot by such a bullet once, Dom knew only too well how devastating an injury from it could be and absently rubbed his shoulder. If Mackenzie hadn’t stumbled across him when she had, he surely would have died.
It wasn’t often this kind of silver was found in non-Agency weapons. Many years ago, the Santa Muerte mines had been shut down and sealed. Darkbloods conducted raids from time to time, trying to get their hands on the raw material, but as far as anyone knew, they never succeeded. The weapons they did find were ones they’d plucked from charcoaled Guardians.
“Team three? You there?”
No answer.
“Gibson?” With Lily gone, he’d requested Jackson’s friend Val Gibson come up from the San Diego office to help them out here in Seattle. They often traded personnel when either of the two offices needed more agents. He’d arrived yesterday and had been fully briefed on the situation.
Where the hell was he? His team should’ve checked in by now.
For a moment Dom wondered if they did things differently down there. With the relatively small vampire population up here compared to Southern California, there were apt to be variations in protocol. But they went over everything back at the field office and Gibson assured him he understood procedure. His team was to get into position near the west entrance and wait for the signal from Dom. Wasn’t the guy right behind them when they got out of the van back at the staging point a mile up the road?
“Gibby,” Jackson said, the strain in his voice obvious. “Where the hell are you?”
Dom was seriously considering aborting the mission when the guy finally answered.
“Yeah, sorry.” He sounded out of breath. “Tambra and I are here and in place.”
Jackson cursed through the line. “What the hell were you doing? Getting a blow job?”
“Ha, I wish. Maybe later.”
A woman coughed. “Don’t you be giving me the hairy eyeball, Gibby, because it’s not happening.”
Joking aside, Dom was proud of his team, how everyone worked together. They poked fun and harassed each other, but they were some of the finest Guardians in North America—highly trained and very loyal. “Now, does everyone know what we’re doing when we get in there?”
Yeses and uh-huhs echoed through the line.
“None of you better be lying to me about wearing your protective gear either. If this shipment is what we think it is, they’re going to be armed with Santa Muerte silver.”
He tugged at the neckline of his vest. Even though it was standard procedure, he’d always been averse to wearing them, but now that he was a husband and father, he was living for more than just himself. The snug fit and added bulk wasn’t the pain in the ass it used to be.
They all confirmed they were wearing their gear.
Knowing they had this mission tonight, he’d taken Mackenzie’s blood so that he was fully energized and able to use his special powers if he needed to. Because they were Enlazado por la Sangre—bonded by blood—her lifeblood did all sorts of things to him, including infusing him with the ancient power to vapor. By turning himself into smoke, he could seep through the smallest of cracks.
The ability had come in handy several times, including last week when his son accidentally locked himself in the bathroom. Miguel was crying and couldn’t figure out how to unlock the door from the inside. When Dom vapored under the door and materialized on the other side, Miguel stared at him a moment then burst out laughing. With thick tears still streaming down his face, he held out his fat little arms for Dom to pick him up and comfort him. His heart swelled just thinking about how much he loved his son and loved being a father.
The scent of Darkbloods was thick in the air. Dom considered having his Guardians go in stealthily, but they needed to get in fast and prevent anyone from leaving or destroying anything. The Agency needed to find out how they were getting the weapons, who was supplying them.
“Okay, then. We go in on three…two…one. Go.” Dom spun away from the wall and sprinted across the small expanse of pavement to the east entrance. A well-placed kick and the door flew open. Once inside, he morphed into the darkness and shadow-moved quickly past a row of stacked pallets.
Jonah and Sadie emerged from the left. Jackson and Mitch came through the double doors at the far end. Gibby and Tambra ran in from the right. They all met in the middle.
Dom stood with his hands on his hips and surveyed the place. Where were the DBs? Though he was no tracker, he distinctly picked up the scent of several of them and yet the place seemed empty. Something must’ve alerted them to the Guardians’ presence. With rows of boxes and shelving that stretched to the ceiling and several offices along the back wall, it was possible they were hiding.
“They’ve got to be in here,” he said through clenched teeth. “I can smell them.”
“Me, too,” someone said.
“Let’s fan out.” As everyone scattered, he followed the scent to several palettes of flattened cardboard in front of a Dumpster. They must be inside.
Dom kicked the Dumpster and the sound echoed throughout the warehouse. Nothing stirred inside. As he reached for the warped lid, the scent hit him. It was old blood without an energy signature.
Carefully, he lifted the black cover and peered