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Cain sure seemed to know what he was talking about. Both with the vampire and with the FBI.
“I can’t let him hurt anyone else,” she whispered.
His eyes narrowed. “You might not have a choice on that, baby.”
“There’s always a choice.”
“Don’t be too—Shit.” He stiffened. “They’re here.”
How did he know? What was—
His lips hitched into a half-smile. “Stop applying human rules to me, Miranda. I heard them when they entered the building.”
Super hearing, check. She’d have to remember that little perk. And she’d have to find out just what, exactly, Cain was. Not a vampire, there was too much hate in his voice when he talked about the undead.
Cain didn’t particularly seem the self-hating type.
“They’ll take care of you,” he said.
“I’m not going with them.” No way was she going to disappear with a bunch of strangers. Her summer vacation had just started last week, and she wasn’t about to lose her carefully ordered life because of one nightmarish evening. “Choices, remember?” she said softly. She was about to make hers, but she needed him. “Help me, Cain. I know you can. You know about vampires. How they’re strong, how they’re weak.” They had to have some kind of weakness, right? “We can do something, I don’t know, go after him? We can stop that bastard from hurting anyone else.”
His expression hardened. “You’d risk yourself?”
“I—”
The door was pushed open.
“Look, dammit, I said you can’t go in there! I don’t care who you are—” Sam’s voice blared angrily. Apparently, he had not left the station yet.
Two men in immaculate black suits stepped over the threshold. One was darkly tanned, short, and stocky, with a long scar bisecting his left eyebrow and sliding down his cheek. The other guy was about average height, pale, with a thin, slightly haggard face.
When he caught sight of Cain, the scarred fellow seemed to stiffen. But his partner directed all of his attention to Miranda, saying, “Ms. Shaw, I’m Donovan Delaney from the Federal Bureau of Investigation. It’s come to our attention that you’ve been the victim of—”
“Cut it, Donovan Delaney,” Cain interrupted, rolling his shoulders. “She’s not in the mood to hide.”
The scarred guy cursed softly. “One of yours, is she, Lawson?”
This guy knew Cain?
A twisted smile curled Cain’s lips as he glanced her way and said, “Miranda, baby, did I happen to mention that I just recently retired from the good old FBI?”
Uh, no, he’d forgotten that lovely little tidbit. “You retired? What are you, thirty-five?” That seemed awful young for retirement.
Cain’s eyes gleamed. “Just about, and it wasn’t your typical retirement.” His stare returned to the men. “And yeah, for the record, she’s most definitely mine. She’s not your bait. Not your hostage. If we work this case, we work with my rules, and we make Miranda’s life the priority.”
Okay. So he was talking like he was the boss and damn if the agents were nodding in agreement while Sam stared at Cain with widening eyes.
“We’re gonna have to get the okay from above,” the shorter guy stopped nodding long enough to say. “It’s gonna be shit with paperwork because you pulled out already—”
“Make the calls, Santiago. This case is mine.”
Donovan Delaney swallowed a few times. He glanced back and forth between the guy identified as Santiago and Cain, then muttered, “Look, buddy, you might have worked the crimes before but—”
“You’re not point on this one, Delaney,” Santiago noted softly. “And trust me, kid, you’re playing out of your league if Lawson’s already involved.”
Delaney flushed.
“You’ll be backup here,” Santiago told the other agent. “Cain and I will be lead.”
