There are security cameras overhead—all dark and motionless. One is visibly fractured. This attack was planned, but not very far in advance.
No more threats for now. Cody holsters his gun, tense, and returns to Simon’s side.
Simon hasn’t moved from his place against the SUV. He turns away, and even in profile his expression is blank. Pale and soulless as he looked the night they met. Nothing of the warm, almost flirtatious spirit Cody’s become strangely accustomed to.
Simon’s fingernails dig into his bare arms.
“Are you okay?” Cody asks, heart jumping. Fuck—he should have examined Simon first. If he missed Simon getting hurt—
Simon flinches away. His eyes are dilated, with deep red pupils. “I’m not hurt,” he says, every syllable sharp. “But you are.”
That’s when Cody remembers the sting in his upper arm, and the blood sliding to his wrist.
The pain is negligible. The bullet only punched through muscle, and the bleeding has nearly stopped. Werewolves heal quickly. Two days from now, there won’t even be a scar.
But right now, Cody’s still bleeding, within arm’s reach of a vampire. His internal sense of danger readjusts. One threat has fled, and another is here. A cold-blooded predator Cody wants to protect above his own skin.
Because that’s his job. Of course. Cody’s a professional.
“I didn’t ask about me,” Cody says, grinning. “Are you okay?”
Simon’s eyes close. His blank expression is a mask, barely papering over his hunger. When his eyes open again, he looks vulnerable, caught in the force of his own instinct. “I’ll resist the temptation,” he murmurs.
Maybe more than instinct.
No. Cody’s pulse quickens, not from fear. He has to be imagining the desire in Simon’s red eyes—but he isn’t imagining how much he likes the idea. Somehow, this barely dressedvampire craving his blood is the hottest man Cody’s ever met. Protection is only the surface shape of Cody’s desire.
Professional. Keep this professional. Cody yanks himself back to reality. “I need to get you back.”
“Lead the way,” Simon says, still tense and controlled.
As they edge back to the car, Cody’s neck prickles. But whenever he glances over, Simon is looking far away. His body is tense, all slender lines of coiled energy, and the leather pants aren’t half as distracting as his parted lips.
Cody checks the car before opening the passenger door. “I want you to duck down until we reach the highway.”
Any desire in Simon’s eyes burns away with indignation. “You’re the one who got shot. Maybe you should duck down.” Then he hesitates. “Can you drive with your injury?”
Cody shrugs. Bad move, given the healing gunshot to the shoulder. “I’ve driven with worse.”
Simon frowns, skeptical, but folds into the car, out of sight. Cody takes one last view of their surroundings. Listening carefully, he hears nothing more than a drunken argument one floor down. Then he gets in the car too.
The seatbelt feels tight over his chest as he exits the parking garage. Every sense fixates on the vampire crouching at his side, a heady blend of fear and foolish want. Cody’s hindbrain keeps circling around the memory of painting the wall. Simon’s cool fingers picking splinters from his palm. His present pain is an afterthought.
Cody forces his attention onto the job. The attacker fled, but she or an accomplice could be waiting in a getaway car. There could be a second sniper on an adjacent rooftop. Every moment of quiet heightens the anticipation of attack.
But there’s no follow-up. They hit the highway, and Cody says, “You can sit up.”
“Great,” Simon says, muffled, before sitting up with an exaggerated stretch. “I’m too old for this shit.”
He fastens his seatbelt, then cracks a window open. Presses his face to the glass, which doesn’t hold his reflection. Nervous tension still thrums through the car, thick as the smell of blood.
If Cody finds the person behind this, he’ll rip their throat out without a second thought. That knowledge scares him. He almost shifted in the garage, and if those security cameras were still working, it could have been disastrous.
Not as bad as letting Simon get hurt would have been. Satisfaction mingles with Cody’s anger. He kept Simon safe. Simon is fine, and Cody is taking him back home where they belong—
For fuck’s sake, Cody. Professional.
“Did you recognize her?” Cody asks, because unraveling this attack serves his professional and unprofessional needs alike.
