Embraced by Blood Page 5

  She got to the security checkpoint and smiled at Francesca, who was sitting on the other side of a glass partition. The young woman looked up from her crossword puzzle and her face brightened.

  “Forgot to tell you, but I finished that book you loaned me last week,” Francesca said. “Loved it.”

  Lily smiled and placed her thumb on the reader. They often traded books, but with everything on her mind lately, she couldn’t remember which one she’d loaned her. “Awesome, that’s great,” she said generically.

  Three tones sounded. She removed her thumb, inserted her key card into the slot, and Francesca buzzed her in.

  “Got any free time?” Francesca tucked a pencil behind her ear. “It’d be fun to get together and discuss it. Someone told me about a new coffee shop nearby that caters to book lovers. Maybe we could check it out.”

  “I’d love to, but I’m booked solid. Heading up to see Zoe and the fam. Can you wait till I get back?” Maybe by then she’d feel back to normal, and she could concentrate on something other than her problems.

  “Yeah, sure.”

  She waved to her friend, tucked the lanyard back inside her zip-up hoodie and strode down the hallway, apprehension growing with each step.

  She didn’t want to speculate about what might be going on if her lack of abilities couldn’t be explained by a simple sinus virus. But then, what kind of virus lasted for this long and kept getting worse? Being a Tracker was much more than just a job. It meant that for the first time, she’d been respected for her talents and her brain, and not because she was Henry DeGraff’s daughter or because she looked good in a miniskirt. Sought after by other field offices, she’d located vampires and humans that no one else could track. But if she couldn’t get rid of that muddy scent clouding her ability to delineate smells—much like a filmy cataract lens obstructing one’s vision—she’d be worthless as a Tracker.

  Which basically made her…worthless.

  She poked her head into the gym and looked around. On the far side of the huge room, just past the juice bar, Cordell Kincade worked out on one of the rowing machines. Okay, perfect, she thought as she headed toward him. Since she only had access to the Tracker system, she’d get him to pull up the capture report, then she’d check out what was on the official record. If she was lucky, the long time-gap wouldn’t be noted and Kip’s report wouldn’t mention anything out of the ordinary. She’d be able to relax for now, and head up to British Columbia this evening. Maybe that and a few nights off were all she needed to get back on track. She was eager to see her daughter again.

  She smiled at how far she’d come since finding out she was going to be a mother. At first, she’d been horrified. Hooking up with a player like Steven had only been meant as a fun distraction. It wasn’t supposed to get her pregnant. Not to mention that her job as a Tracker, with its unpredictable schedule and the frequent travel it required, was extremely demanding and very important to her. How could she possibly do that and be a mother as well?

  God knew her parents had been excited about her pregnancy, even if Steven hadn’t, and they offered to do anything they could to help. But when she’d held Zoe for the first time and seen her chubby face, none of that had mattered any longer. She’d vowed to figure out a way to work as a Tracker, with or without Steven. As the mother to the most beautiful child on the planet, she was determined to make a good life for both of them.

  “Hey, Cordell, when you’re done, can you get me into TechTran? I want to take a look at the capture reports from a few assignments.”

  “You bet. Give me…a minute.” Eyes forward, concentrating on his workout, he spoke only when he exhaled as the seat slid backwards. “Last night’s report?”

  “Yeah, that and a few others.”

  His gaze flickered in her direction but he kept rowing. “You think…they entered…it yet?”

  Damn. He did have a point. She’d already filed her activity summary, but had everyone else? Trying to act casual, she shrugged, but the knots in her shoulders tightened anyway. “Hadn’t thought about it.”

  A few minutes later in the computer lab, with a white gym towel around his neck, Cordell pulled up the TechTran system as Lily leaned over his shoulder. She held her breath while he scrolled through the various field divisions, finally clicking on the capture team button.

  “Nope.” he said, pushing back in his chair. “Nothing for last night yet. Protocol may dictate everyone file timely reports, Lil, but you’re one of the few around here who actually does it.”

  She exhaled slowly, unsure whether she should be relieved or not. Maybe it wasn’t all bad, she reasoned. The longer they waited to submit the summary, the less detailed it was likely to be. But she’d still need to keep checking, which meant involving Cordell each time. Unless it was filed today, she probably shouldn’t head north tonight. Her heart weighed heavily in her chest at the thought of not seeing Zoe. With her piano recital coming up, Lily’s daughter had been practicing daily and was eager to play for her mom.

  A shitty Tracker and a shitty mother. What a combination.

  “Hey…you mind if I log into my account?”

  “Knock yourself out. I’m hitting the showers.”

  She waited until he’d left before she clicked into the Tracker section. That’s funny. She double-checked that she was on the correct page, but she was. All of Kip’s other reports were there. Neat, organized, just the way she’d taught him. The only one missing was last night’s. Surely he wasn’t slacking off already, was he? Was she the only one around here concerned about the rules?

  Irritated now, she logged off and exited the computer lab. Kip had obviously been hanging around Jackson too long. His poor habits had rubbed off onto her very conscientious trainee. She ground her teeth together. All the screwups in the office seemed to revolve around Jackson. Well, things were about to change.

  A fresh, vaguely familiar scent caught her attention when she stepped into the hallway. She inhaled, couldn’t quite separate it from the muddiness, and that too-familiar swell of panic gripped her stomach again. In an enclosed environment like this—undisturbed by the elements—a scent should be easy to identify.

  Knowing that smell was closely associated with memory, she closed her eyes and pressed both hands on the top of the foyer table, careful not to lean in too close and get speared by one of the pointy orange flowers that looked like a crane’s head.

  She took a deep breath and held it for a moment, focusing inward on the mental images and emotions stirring in her mind as she tried to pry loose the scent memory.

  Apprehension. Disrespect. Inadequacy.

  Then it dawned on her. Of course. Gibson’s here. I should’ve known. He’d assumed she’d gotten the job as a Tracker because of her father, not because she was qualified, so he’d never respected her.

  Angry with herself for letting an ass like Gibby get under her skin, she squared her shoulders. Catching sight of herself in the reflective doors of the elevator, she made a quick appraisal. Not bad, but not perfect either. Much as she loathed being judged for her looks alone, around men like Gibby, her image was her armor.

  “Good, you’re here,” said Jackson, startling her, his heavy footsteps beating a loud rhythm behind her. Subtlety was not one of his character traits. “I need to talk to you.”

  Three boxes of sugary cereal balanced precariously in his bulging arms, along with spoons, a half gallon of milk and two bowls large enough for popcorn. Without waiting, he brushed past her and headed toward the game room.

  “Listen,” she said, following him. “I’d appreciate it if you’d try to be a good example for the new guys. I know it must be hard, but for godsake, you’re the acting field team leader. They look up to you. The least you could do is encourage them to follow procedure. They’re in place for a reason.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Kip, that’s who I’m talking about. He used to be so responsible, but hanging out with you, he’s—”

 
“Hold on. All this…it’s slipping.” The snake tattoo on his biceps, with its open mouth, fangs and forked tongue, looked eager to be eating Tony the Tiger as Jackson juggled everything.

  She grabbed the bowls from him. “And why didn’t you give me a heads-up that Gibby was here? You know I can’t stand him.”

  “What? I figured you knew. Sensed him or smelled him or something. Sorry.” With a snap of his head, Jackson flicked his hair out of his face, blond and gold highlights mingling with the brown, the splayed-out ends settling back along the top of his shoulders. Ever since he’d dated that chick who worked at one of Seattle’s top hair salons, the guy had been addicted to funky highlights. Two weeks ago they’d been various shades of blue.

  “I did, but…not soon enough. I’ve got a head cold. I would’ve changed into something else before I came over.”

  He gave her a quick head-to-toe. “What are you talking about?”

  How could she explain it to someone so obtuse? No use beating around the bush with him—he’d never get it. “Because you’re all used to seeing me like this, eh? We hang out together and have a good time. But the guy’s a total Richard. Sorry, he is. It makes me uncomfortable when I know I could look better.”

  “That’s dumb. You look hot.”

  Oh man, why had she even bothered?

  She followed him into the game room, half expecting to see Kip inside. Without looking up, Val Gibson leaned over the pool table and took a shot. He didn’t bother to acknowledge her, so she returned the favor and stayed silent.

  After setting the bowls on the wet bar, she leaned against the doorjamb and absently flicked the tiny chain hanging from her navel while her annoyance grew. This better be fast. I’m sick of him already.

  Jackson held up two boxes and looked at the cartoon characters on the front as if trying to decide which was more worthy. Evidently he couldn’t make up his mind because he dumped some of each into his bowl.

  She cleared her throat. “Jacks, you had something you needed to—”

  “You gonna take a shot or not?” Gibby asked Jackson, interrupting her as if she’d never spoken.

  Her skin prickled. She plucked a stray blond hair from her sleeve as she counted backward from ten to one.

  “In a sec,” Jackson said to him. “Lil, did you hear DBs might be looking for Trackers to help them locate sweetbloods? Wanted to make sure you watch your back when you’re out.”

  “Yeah, they want to bring you over to the dark side,” Gibson said in a faux announcer’s accent, like the whole thing was a joke. He dumped at least a half box of cereal into his bowl, then held up the carton of milk and poured it in a slow, steady stream.

  Oh please, did he need to make sure each piece was coated? She gladly tore her eyes away as Jackson continued.

  “They’re looking to convert Trackers. Use them like, well, bloodhounds—tracking and finding sweetbloods. They’re branching out to places not previously popular with Darkbloods. Building up their blood inventory levels, I guess.”

  Gibby had discovered that? It sounded way too covert for a musclehead like him to be in on. “Converting Trackers? How’d you get that intel, Gibby?”

  “Ah, he didn’t.” Jackson kept his head down and stuffed a large spoonful of cereal into his mouth. “Alfonso called.”

  “Alfonso?” The blood drained from her face and she felt light-headed for a moment.

  Why should it be surprising that her former lover didn’t want to deal with her and went straight to Jackson with this news? Acutely aware of a sudden ache deep inside, she folded her arms tightly across her chest and kicked at the carpet nap with the toe of her flip-flop. She most definitely didn’t have feelings for him any longer—just anger at herself that she’d been gullible enough to ever believe he felt the same way about her. She may have thought she loved him once, but not any longer. Not after what he’d done. “How did he hear that?”

  Jackson stirred his cereal. “He ran into a couple of DBs who told him right before he wasted them. But Gibby says a Tracker disappeared just last week down in the San Diego office, so it could be happening all over. Maybe it’s a new tactic they’re trying.”

  Gibson took a bite and wiped a trickle of milk from his chin with the back of his hand. “I thought you guys were friends with benefits since you were his handler in the Agency for…how many years? You guys broke up, huh?”

  She was not about to discuss her failed love life with Gibby. Especially not after those nightmarish few months with Steven in San Francisco—what the hell had she been thinking trying to start something back up with Zoe’s father? Clearly, she had poor taste in men. She was ready to call it quits in the relationship department altogether.

  It was her turn to ignore Gibby. Flexing her fists, she directed her question to Jackson. “How do DBs think they can get an Agency-trained Tracker to work for them?”

  “Probably by getting them addicted to Sweet,” Jackson said. “Gorge on enough of it and it’s as difficult to kick as a meth or heroin addiction. You’ll do just about anything to get more. Alfonso said they do that type of coercion a lot.”

  He should know. That’s exactly what they did to him.

  With the cereal bowl in one hand and his thumb on the spoon to keep it from slipping inside, Jackson approached her. “He was really worried about you, Lil,” he said, keeping his voice low. “I think if I hadn’t told him you’re training someone—that you haven’t been on patrol alone lately—and that you’re off the schedule for the next few days, he may have come here himself. He asked if you were going up to your parents’ house to see Zoe.”

  “And what did you tell him?”

  “I told him I thought you were. He chilled out a little after that.”

  Alfonso was worried about her? She highly doubted it. He was aware she had a black belt in Krav Maga and, as far as he knew, she was still one of the Agency’s top Trackers.

  “What’s Gibby doing here then?” The guy worked out of the San Diego office most of the time, and she wished he would’ve stayed there.

  “He flew up for the MMA fights. We’ve got ringside seats. It’s gonna be on HBO. You should watch it and see if you can see us.”

  “So what do you say, princess?” Gibson called from across the room, raising his thick eyebrows. “Wanna hook up? I’ll show you what a real man is capable of.”

  “If you’re the definition of a real man, then I’m going to bat for the other team. Jacks, for the life of me, I can’t figure out why you’re friends with a guy like him.”

  “The other team? Now you’re talking,” Gibson said, rubbing his hands together. “I haven’t had a threesome in ages. My body could be your wonderland.”

  “Oh, please.” She held up her middle finger to Gibby and left.

  JACKSON SET DOWN the empty cereal bowl and caught up to her at the elevators. “Lil, wait up. I didn’t mean to stir up old feelings. Should’ve just told you we got the information through some intelligence in the field without mentioning who the source was.”

  “I can assure you,” she said coolly, “there’s nothing to stir up. Any feelings I may have had for him are long gone.”

  He wasn’t so sure, but he wasn’t about to argue with her. “Listen, I know this is going to sound out of left field since you and me—well, we haven’t gotten together in forever. But…are you going straight to sleep when you get home or do you need a little company?”

  Well before she’d met Alfonso, Lily and Jackson had rolled around in the sack together a few times just for fun. Like all modern vampires trying to control their naturally aggressive tendencies, they needed the tension release that only sexual activity provided. He’d never considered it serious, and neither had she. Just a fun way to work off the edge. And right now she looked like she could use a little tension reliever.

  “Wow, out of left field is right.” She smiled. “Jacks, you know I love ya, and the shagging was fun.” She knocked him on the arm and he knew the no was coming. “But that was for
ever ago, like you said. We hang out now, have fun. You tell me about the women you date, and I try to keep them all straight. I’m afraid you’ve become more like the little brother I never had. A little brother with giant muscles. Jeez, what are you feeding these things?” She smacked his biceps again with the back of her hand. “It’d be weird now. Sorry, love.”

  He hadn’t really expected she’d take him up on it, but it never hurt to try. And it wasn’t completely altruistic on his part either. After all, she was hot and had a smoking body.

  After glancing at her watch, she pressed the elevator button and twisted the cord of her hood around a finger. What was she anxious about? Did she have to get back home for something?

  Then it dawned on him. No wonder she seemed anxious and in a hurry. Kip was probably waiting for her back at her place.

  “Sorry to have kept you from your boy toy,” he said. “I’ll let you get back to him.”

  A confused expression flashed across her face. “What are you talking about?”

  “Kip. Isn’t he waiting for you back at your condo?”

  “Kip? Why would you think so? For one thing, he’s totally not my type. Too young and probably way too inexperienced.”

  Jackson gave her a skeptical look. Since when was being the more experienced partner in a sexual relationship a bad thing?

  “I’m serious. He’s probably crashed in the bunk room by now. It took us a little longer than normal to track down a revert and I think he was pretty tired when we finally did. Go check if you don’t believe me.”

  “I don’t think so. Xian just made up one of the beds for Gibby and mentioned that Kip wasn’t there. I just assumed you and he—”

  “You’re way off. Hey, there’s Xian now,” she said, looking behind him. “Let’s go ask.” She brushed past him and strode down the hallway.

  As they got closer to the kitchen, the smell of warm chocolate nearly brought Jackson to his knees.

  “I’m glad you’re here,” Xian said to Lily. “I wanted to get these to you before you left for Willow Run.” The small, dark-haired man offered her a bundle wrapped neatly in brown paper, tied with a frilly pink bow. “Brownies. No nuts. I promised Zoe I’d send some with you the next time you headed up.”