Big Game (The V V Inn #3)

Big Game (The V V Inn #3) Page 28

Asa

I'm worried about Jon. He stormed out of the conference room hours ago when we needed to stay focused on the task at hand. Trying to avoid Cy inspired me to stop and visit with Paul's family for a little while, forgetting the kids would be asleep. I updated Bunny on what's been going on since I saw them last.

We haven't heard from Paul or Drew since they landed in Buenos Aires a little after midnight last night. Considering it's almost six a.m. down there now, we should have heard from them by now. And if we don't soon, I'll hold off on telling Bunny for a little while. We've got bigger fish to fry and stressing her out about her husband's possible danger thousands of miles away certainly won't help.

Do Paul and Drew stand a chance of breaching the Tribunal's security and finding out what is happening with Rafe and Vivian? I think back to the night Drew beheaded Ivan.

Drew stood over his wife's killer, hesitant on the next move. If Ivan hadn't taunted the bastard, Drew might not have had the courage to finish him. I stare at the concrete wall of the command center, tuning out the amused chatter of my brother and his friend.

How much action did the two young Weres see in Iraq? Are they comfortable with pulling the trigger or dropping the blade like I am? I'm not saying I enjoyed the war, but I did thrive on the action and the routine. The cares of the world melted away and your life spiraled down to fulfilling your job. You do the job, sometimes bored, sometimes with adrenaline pounding through your body as every sense is heightened to the max, then you go back to base and sleep. The next day you repeat... again and again... and again.

Weeks in the field didn't sap your grip on reality when you knew you had a solid country to go home to when your tour was up. The dreams of what you have waiting for you take on a life of their own, occasionally building a stronger meaning in your memory than that which really exists-but one simple fact remains: If you make it home, you'll be going home to safety. The people living in those war-ravaged countries are home.

They live day in and day out not knowing if soldiers will break down their doors while they sleep, if a car bomb will destroy all they own and love, or if an improvised explosive device will trigger as their children race across open ground.

The time I spent wandering Afghanistan, after I realized what I had become, seemed exactly like the hours I walked through a warzone holding a loaded rifle. I smelled every piece of refuse and rotting gore. I felt every grain of sand and grit that blew into me, heard the scratch of a stray dog in the next alley, and a family behind thin walls as they spoke softly in the night. A part of me deep inside sensed the energies around me, intuitively reading when danger was in the air.

Except, the sensations and experiences never lessened when I became a vampire. They never shut off when I went back to base-hell, there was no more base camp for me to go back to.

Being a newly changed vampire was the ultimate war high. Learning to live with the transformation and protect my sanity became my biggest challenge. A part of me wants to reach out and ask Eric and Pat what it means to be a werewolf. What do these two knuckle-heads next to me feel? What did they think of the war?

Should I tell them my time in Manhattan stretched the very fibers of my reality? That I worried I'd go insane and kill everyone around me? The constant bombardment of stimuli was almost enough to make me walk into the sun. Cy taught me how to center my mind and turn down my vampire senses. He may not have any military background, but he had a good grip on staying sane, helping me get through the worst. Which makes his blatant attempt to push into my head so out of character. What the hell is up with him?

I thump a fist into my thigh, unwilling to waste more time on Cy when I have no desire to confront him about it. Instead, as I sit here near the brother I thought I'd never see again, I allow the rush of my war senses to come forward like I did in the woods. I smell the soap residue clinging to both young men, the salt of the popcorn they're snacking on. I hear the rustle of their clothing as they shift in their seats. The low hum of the computers in the room sounds like a muted roar of static, drowning the other noises with its intensity. I feel footsteps above, the subtle vibrations carrying through the ceiling, the walls, and to my feet on the concrete floor.

This latest danger with supernatural hunters gunning for wolves may not be the same as war, but it is an attack on claimed territory, and a fight I intend to meet head on. Are the others as ready for battle as I am? If Drew and Paul survive, should I offer to train and make them stronger members of the seethe? Should we treat this isolated resort like a base and fortify it as strong as we can?

Assuming the seethe makes it out of Argentina alive, I intend to talk to Vivian and see what we can work out. She may want a peaceful existence living in the dark where no one can find her, but that dream is over and it's best we prepare.

Jon saunters into the command center, breaking my train of thought, looking like he's desperately trying not to smile. His step is lighter and the tension he's held ever since I've met him seems absent. The scent of sex wafts off the alpha, prompting me to shut my senses before I find out more than I'd like to about the man.

Paul and Eric lounge in the extra chairs, throwing popcorn across the room into each other's mouths-beaning each other in the face more than getting kernels in their open maws.

The evil smart-ass in me wants to tease them about making a dog work for his treats, but I hold back. Pat takes one look at his new alpha and chokes on a piece of popcorn he snagged off his shirt. His face turns red and then clears. "It's about freakin' time you got laid."

Eric sputters, managing to contain his burst of amusement before it gets out. He looks from one to man to the next, watching to see what Jon does-maybe wondering if he'll have to jump in and pull him off his obnoxious best friend. I smile at all of their reactions, my interest peaked.

When Jon finally answers Pat, a small grin quirks up one corner of his mouth. "I don't know what you're talking about, man."

"Uh-huh," Pat continues, unaware of stepping over lines that shouldn't be crossed. "So, if I start humming 'Dude Looks Like a Lady' you won't have any problem with it?"

Jon glances over his shoulder and shrugs. Candy steps into the room and now it's Pat's turn to sputter. He bolts up in the chair, taking his booted feet off the desk and straightens his face into one resembling sobriety. "Hey, there Candy," his voice squeaks. "How you doing?"

"I'm doing great, Pat," she answers while stepping around Jon and coming into the room. "What bothers you more-the fact I can make my dick bigger than yours?" She shifts before our eyes, lightning fast, into the form of Eric, her loose clothes stretching until she looks like a super-sized version of my brother. Eric's voice comes out of Candy's transformed body. "Or that I can turn into a beast...." She morphs into an albatross, the clothes dropping to the concrete floor, and flies at Pat's head, breaking off as he dives under the desk like a scared rat.

The huge, seagull-like bird squawks loudly and lands on Jon's shoulder, transforming back into the naked form of Candy, standing behind her new boyfriend. "Who can take your eye out before you knew what hit you?"

Pat looks at Jon, indignation and outrage fighting for dominance on his face. "Dude, you told her about my freak out over the Birds movie? So not cool." We all laugh as he climbs from under the desk and Candy puts her clothes on behind Jon. "Alright, alright. I'll hold my tongue." He shoots Candy one more glare, "Unless you dive bomb for my eyes, then all bets are off." He adjusts his shirt and mumbles "crazy bitch" under his breath.

An idea pops into my head, like there should be a big ole light bulb over me lit up like a halogen beam on high. "Candy, could you fly over the property to find the hunters' positions and tell us where they are?"

Jon opens his mouth, looking like he might object. "I'll do it," Candy says, no hesitation in her voice, no time needed to think about her answer.

"Wait a minute," Jon says. "I'm not so sure that's a good idea."

Cy picks that moment to join us from the hall, making me wonder if he was lurking there the entire time. "I think it sounds like a good plan, too." He leans against the doorjamb. "The cameras are all shot out. Asa and I had no luck. We need to pin down their location to capture them alive, right?"

Jon glances at his watch. "It's almost midnight, and it's well below freezing out there. Besides, birds don't fly at night."

Candy puts a hand on his arm. "No, but bats do. Echo-location might be just what we need to sniff out these wily bastards."

"I thought bats don't like the cold," Eric says.

"Well then," Candy smiles. "It's a good thing I'm not a born bat then, isn't it?"

The two Weres and I look to Jon, clearly acknowledging he's the deciding factor in this no matter how willing the young woman may be. Cy watches the interchange from the doorway, wisely keeping his mouth shut.

Jon looks reluctant, but agrees, giving a terse nod. "Alright, if you're sure that's what you want to do." He lets out a big sigh and wraps his arms around the slight woman. "I know you can keep yourself safe."

I rise from my chair, grabbing a stack of maps off an upper shelf over the desk, glad to be doing something and moving toward a common goal again. "Great. Let's go to the conference room and get you acquainted with the terrain. We'll need you to not only find them, but direct us when you get back."

"Okay." She rubs her hands together, looking eager for the challenge. "Let's get crackin'."