“That is what pack does,” Sage told him with a faint smile. “That is what a team does, if you will.”
“You aren’t my Hellraisers.”
“Maybe not, but we’ll be enough.” Considering what they were heading into, Patrick hoped she meant every last word. Sage cleared her throat. “So how are we doing this? You have a plan that’s more than serving the warrant?”
“Yeah. Don’t die.”
“That’s your plan?”
“It’s a good plan.” Sage stared at him with an unimpressed look on her face. “What? It is.”
“Unbelievable.”
The drive into SoHo took about twenty minutes, give or take an aggressive taxi cab or two. Patrick pulled up in front of the Crimson Diamond and unbuckled his seat belt. Before he even got his hand on the door handle, a stupidly young vampire he didn’t know dropped down next to his Mustang on the street, showing off jagged fangs.
Patrick hit the window button to lower it half an inch. “Don’t get blood on my car.”
“I’m a messy eater,” the vampire hissed.
“I wasn’t talking to you.”
The hand that reached around the vampire’s throat and sank sharp nails that could have doubled for talons into pale white skin was a blur until it wasn’t. The fingers sank in to the second knuckle before ripping free, bringing half the vampire’s throat with it. Thick, dark blood splattered against the glass, and Patrick hastily raised the window.
“Isaiddon’t get blood on my car,” he yelled.
The vampire clutched at his ruined throat, mouth working soundlessly in shock now that his airway was pretty much gone. Then he was thrown farther down the street with enough force to break a few bones. Patrick could only hope he got hit by a taxi.
Patrick shoved the car door open and got out, glaring at Einar. “You’re paying for the detailing on my car.”
“The damage to your car is not our problem.” Einar stared down his nose at Patrick, mouth curling in distaste. “You’re late.”
“Bullshit. We agreed to meet up an hour after sunset. We’re right on time.”
Sage got out of the car and headed for the sidewalk. Patrick locked the car with a push of a button and followed after her. Einar beat him to the guarded entrance of the club, a blur of motion in the dark Patrick’s eyes couldn’t track.
This time, the door was being manned by half a dozen vampires instead of a single human servant. The show of force told Patrick more than anything else they’d struck a nerve the other night when Lucien had waltzed in like he owned the place.
Sage stuck by his side as they approached the door. He pulled the search warrant out of the pocket of his leather jacket and opened it so the Manhattan Night Court vampires could see the SOA seal and judge’s signature. He hooked his thumb around the chain his badge hung from and lifted it off his chest so the vampires couldn’t miss it.
“Special Agent Patrick Collins of the Supernatural Operations Agency here with a nice official search warrant. Step aside,” Patrick said.
The vampires didn’t move, but the door did open behind them.
“Good evening, Special Agent Collins,” a deep voice said from the entranceway. “I’m Alistair Shepard, counsel for Tremaine. I’d like to see your warrant.”
The attorney in question was older than Patrick by at least a decade, if not more. Hair going gray at the temples, Rolex on left wrist, and a suit that not even Patrick’s hazard pay could afford, Alistair Shepard was a tall, broad-shouldered man with sharp brown eyes and a disdainful smile.
Patrick shrugged and passed over the warrant. Alistair made a show of reading through the legalese before handing it back.
“Your warrant was achieved under false parameters. My client harbors no werecreatures here,” Alistair said.
Patrick kept his shields locked down tight, hoping none of the vampires could sense his unease. That statement didn’t bode well to any captive’s survival.
“So you say, but perhaps his business partner does,” Sage said calmly, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. “Tremaine wouldn’t be the first vampire to allow storage of other people’s property within his territory.”
“Tremaine is a master vampire who needs no business partner.”
Patrick waved aside Alistair’s statement. “I have the right to search the premises, so how about you get out of my way?”
