Lorenzo Ellingham Robillard exhaled as the chartered jet touched down in Montreal. Not home, but closer. The night sky was clear, the twinkling stars promising, but there was still a possibility that another obstacle might appear in his path. Ren couldn’t relax just yet.
Thankfully, he was now only minutes away from delivering his precious cargo into the hands of the woman who’d hired him.
Madeline Schuss, currently living under the alias Michelle Chastain, should be waiting for him in the hangar.
He glanced at his knuckles. The mission had been mostly without incident. Only the faintest traces of the punches he’d thrown remained. Vampires healed quickly, but he hadn’t fed lately, and he was tired. Seventy-two hours without sleep so far.
“Are we home now?”
Ren glanced down at the little girl beside him and smiled. “Yes, peanut. We are.”
“Can I take this hat off now?”
“Not just yet.” He shook his head. Six-year-old Lizbeth Schuss was wearing a knit cap with blond braids attached to it, her own brown locks tucked up underneath. She’d had it on since he’d located her in Warsaw and taken her into his protective custody. Then the hat had been to disguise her. Now it was a protection against the chance that Wilhem Schuss, Madeline’s ex-husband and Lizbeth’s father, had men looking for them at the airport. “Better leave it on for a few more minutes.”
“It’s itchy.” She frowned, the disappointment in her eyes surprisingly mature for one of her age.
He dug a grape sucker out of his pocket and showed it to her, a blatant bribe, but candy rarely failed. “Look what I found. Do you know anyone who might want this?”
She grinned, showing off her little fangs. “I do!”
He handed it to her with a wink before looking out the window again. Wilhem Schuss was an old, powerful vampire who ran a good chunk of the paranormal crime syndicate in Europe. He had deep pockets and a vitriolic temper that bordered on manic.
Ren was a vampire too, but he wasn’t as old or as powerful. Neither were his pockets as deep. But he had some borrowed magic on his side that gave him an edge. That strong magic allowed him to do things other vampires couldn’t, and that helped quite a bit in his work.
It had even saved his life on several occasions, something for which he’d forever be grateful.
He glanced down at Lizbeth, his precious cargo, and wondered if being taken by her father would leave any permanent scars on her. He hoped not. He wished her a happy, safe childhood from here on out.
After her mother, Madeline, had divorced Wilhem and moved to London from their home in Warsaw, Wilhem had apparently been reasonable. They’d shared custody of Lizbeth, sending her back and forth between the two cities without incident.
Then Wilhem had changed his mind. On Lizbeth’s last visit with him, he’d decided she should stay with him. Permanently. He’d sent
word to Madeline that she would no longer be allowed contact with her daughter.
Two months later, desperate and reeling, Madeline had contacted Ren. How she’d gotten his name was of no concern to him. The most desperate always did. Because recovering children, those with paranormal parentage to be specific, was what he specialized in.
The plane taxied toward the hangar. Everything looked in order, but he wouldn’t feel any real peace until Madeline and Lizbeth were safely together once again and on their way to their new life.
He watched the shadows for movement, scanned the surrounding area for suspicious cars or people, anything unusual that might trip his sixth sense. There was nothing.
Inside the hangar sat a sleek silver SUV, windows tinted dark. Madeline would be inside, waiting. Once she and Lizbeth were reunited, they’d be driving directly to their new home in a town even he didn’t know. He wouldn’t know Lizbeth’s new name, either. It was better that way.
Although the sun would be up in approximately five hours. There was only so far they could go before they’d be forced to seek shelter.
As for him, it was time for him to lie low too. If Madeline could find him, so could Wilhem. But Ren wouldn’t stay hidden for too long. There would be new missions. New people who needed him. Parents missing their children. He’d only stay out of sight until things cooled off. How long that would be, he wasn’t sure.
The plane rolled through the hangar doors. Ground crew immediately began closing the doors to the halfway point. Enough to give some privacy but still let Madeline’s car exit.
The plane stopped. Within minutes, the hatch was opened, and the pilot gave them the okay to disembark.
“Stay here for a moment, Lizbeth.” Ren unbuckled his seat belt and got up. From the overhead compartment, he took out his bolt gun, keeping it close by his side.
He approached the door sideways, keeping the narrowest part of himself toward the opening. He scanned the hangar, including the
ground crew.
All clear.
The rear passenger door of the SUV opened, and Madeline got out. She looked at him with hope in her eyes. “I wasn’t followed,” she promised.
He nodded and glanced back at Lizbeth, bolt gun still at his side. “Come on, peanut. There’s someone waiting for you I think you’re going to want to see.”
Lizbeth released her belt and jumped up, racing toward the door. She paused at the top step, eyes lighting up. “Mama!”
Lizbeth hurtled down the stairs. Madeline scooped up her daughter, eyes pooling with tears. She hugged her child tight, kissed the top of her head, then quickly ushered her into the safety of the waiting vehicle.
Madeline exhaled, composing herself as she took a medium-size padded envelope from inside her coat. She held the envelope out to Ren. “Thank you.”
He took the envelope. It felt like more than cash, but he’d examine it later. “You’re welcome. Go now.”
She nodded and got back into the SUV. It took off as soon as the door closed. He rolled his shoulders, watching the vehicle until the taillights faded. Then watched another few minutes just to be sure no one followed them.
Finally, he went back onto the plane. He disassembled the bolt gun, tucked it away in his bag, then slipped out of the hangar to walk to the rental car counters. In his head-to-toe black tactical gear, he disappeared into the shadows. Quite a distance from where he was, but a good way to make sure he wasn’t being followed either.
At the counter, he secured a car from a bleary-eyed clerk drinking coffee. This would be the last time he’d use the alias Peter Morgan. He put down Peter’s ID, paid cash, signed the paperwork, and took the keys.
He’d gotten a Camaro, a fast car that would make the five-hour trip to Rochester a little faster. He nodded at the car when he saw it. Black paint, tinted windows. It would do nicely.
He settled in, locking the doors, then drove through the lot slowly, always watching. The place was empty. No other people. No other cars moved.
At the gate, he paused and looked into the envelope Madeline had given him. The cash he’d requested to pay for his expenses. But there was a watch in the envelope too, along with a note. He flipped through the bills, counting quickly. Short by five thousand.
The watch was a woman’s stainless steel and gold Cartier with diamond accents on the dial and a diamond bezel. Easily worth more than the remainder of what she owed him. He read the note.
I couldn’t come up with all of the cash. I hope the watch suffices.
Had he realized in the hangar what she’d done, he would have given the watch back to her. It wasn’t necessary. He would have forgiven the shortfall without a second thought.
He tucked the envelope in the glove box and ran the drive-through at a Tim Horton’s for a large cup of black coffee, then settled in for the drive.
Four hours and thirty-nine minutes later, with the sun beginning to brighten the horizon, he returned the car at the Rochester drop-off and called an Uber to take him the rest of the way. His current apartment was on Elm in an upscale building that had been lazily named 88 On Elm. The apartment was decent. Open floor plan, lots of floor-to-ceiling windows, two bedrooms, two baths, which was more than he needed, but he liked having room.
His personal vehicle, a blacked-out Dodge Charger, was kept in the Midtown Garage nearby.
He had the Uber drop him two blocks away. Probably an unnecessary precaution, but he was a creature of instinct and routine. He’d stayed out of trouble this long by doing things a certain way. He wasn’t about to change that no matter how well a mission had gone.
The sun breached the horizon, but it was still early, and the streets had only begun to populate with citizens going to work.
He walked quickly. A man in black tactical pants, black pullover, hood up, and dark sunglasses, carrying a black duffel bag, stood out a little at this hour among the suits.
Inside the lobby of his building, he went straight to the elevator and tapped the call button. He got out on the seventh floor, constantly scanning for anything out of the ordinary. No strange smells, nothing added or subtracted since he’d last been here.
He ran his key fob over the door lock. The soft snick of the lock releasing followed. With one last look down either side of the hall, he went in.
The toe of his shoe sent something skittering. Paper. He closed the door, locking it behind him, then picked up the thing he’d kicked. A folded piece of paper with a few simple words on it.
This isn’t over — W
How the devil had Wilhem found him? Ren had no idea, but he’d work on that later. He shoved the note into the pocket of his hoodie. This was no longer a safe place to be. Despite being tired and in need of blood, he had to get out of town. But his usual hideouts might already be compromised. There was only one place he could think of to take refuge. A place where he could hide in plain sight. With his beloved aunt, a There was only one place he could think of to take refuge. A place where he could hide in plain sight.
We hope you are enjoying the book so far. To continue reading...
Copyright © 2024 All Rights Reserved
Please log in to recommend or discuss...
