Home > Deeper Than Midnight (Midnight Breed #9)(63)

Deeper Than Midnight (Midnight Breed #9)(63)
Author: Lara Adrian

"I said shut up, Murdock."

But he didn't. Damn him, he wouldn't. "How desperate would an addict like you have to be not to be tempted to get down on your hands and knees and lap up the blood that's spilling out of me onto that shitty floor below? Wouldn't your holier-than-thou buddies back at the Order love to see you like this - like the f**ked-up Rogue you truly are? Do the world a favor and take yourself out of it."

Chase couldn't tolerate any more. He couldn't stand to hear the truth, especially coming from scum like Murdock. He swung his chain-reinforced fist into the vampire's face, sending him swinging by the length of chain at his ankles. Chase yanked Murdock back and hammered him again, blow after punishing blow. He pounded until there was little left to hit. Until Murdock's body hung lifeless, the awful truth silenced at last. Chase dropped the chain from around his throbbing fist. Then he released the one holding Murdock aloft. The body hit the floor of the old silo in a heavy thump of flesh and bone, the chain rattling down behind it.

Chase turned around and walked out, leaving the door open for the other predators of the night to feed on the carcass and tomorrow's sun to take whatever remained.

Chapter Twenty-one

"For once, it seems luck is on our side, Lucan."

Gideon stood in the center of the cavernous bomb shelter hidden beneath Lazaro Archer's Cold War - era Darkhaven a couple hours north of Augusta, Maine. As Archer had warned, the place wasn't anywhere close to the size and complexity of the Order's compound, but Lucan had to agree with Gideon: It seemed to be the best option - the only immediate option - they had at the moment.

Nestled on a remote, two-hundred-acre plot of virgin forest that had likely seen more moose and black bear than humans in the past couple of centuries, the property was nothing if not private. The residence itself was a sprawling ten-bedroom, eight-thousand-square-foot fortress of stone and thick timber. Rugged, compared to the elegant mansion back in Boston or the sophisticated brownstone where Lazaro Archer and his family had lived before Dragos's act of mass destruction. The land surrounding it was impenetrable and forbidding, a natural perimeter wall made of soaring pines and thorn-spangled bracken.

"I wish I had more to offer you," Archer said from beside Lucan. His rugged face was limned in pale light from the fluorescent security lamp that hung overhead in the concrete tunnel leading back up to the house. "I cannot fully express how deeply I regret my family's role in Dragos's plans. That he used Kellan as an unwitting pawn - "

"Forget it," Lucan replied. "None of us would be in this situation if it weren't for Dragos. As for this holding, like Gideon says, it's an advantage we sure as hell need right now."

Archer nodded as the three of them resumed their walk up the long, underground tunnel.

"Although the house has been unoccupied all these years, a local property management company has been responsible for the maintenance and upkeep - "

"Let them know their services are no longer required," Lucan replied. "If the contract needs to be paid out, let me know and arrangements will be made to take care of any expenses or incidentals."

"Very well," Archer said. "How soon do you expect to begin the relocation?"

Lucan slanted a look at Gideon. "Can you be ready to roll out the first wave of equipment by tomorrow night?"

Gideon's eyes were sharp and determined over the rims of his light blue shades. "Layout is tight but workable. May have to go with a combo of hardwire and coax instead of wireless based on the material and thickness of the walls down here, but yeah ... I can make it happen as soon as tomorrow night."

Lucan nodded. "Sounds like we're in business."

Gideon stepped over to walk on the other side of Archer. "Before we go, I'd like to take another look at the security system you have in place, Lazaro."

"Yes, of course."

Lucan's cell phone vibrated in his coat pocket as Gideon and Archer continued discussing the property's finer points. "Yeah, babe?" Lucan said as he connected to Gabrielle's call. "Is everything good back home?"

"Ah, yes and no," she answered. Even if her hesitant voice hadn't given her away, he would have known something was up. Through the blood bond he shared with his Breedmate, Lucan felt the mix of excitement and anxiety spiking in her veins like it was his own.

"What's going on?"

"It's Tess," she said. "Lucan, she's having contractions. The baby's on the way."

Hunter ditched the stolen El Camino in the swamp several miles away from Amelie Dupree's house and made the rest of the trek into New Orleans on foot. He'd found no activity at the first of Henry Vachon's residences and had gone on to stake out the other Darkhaven address Gideon had given him.

For more than an hour, his reconnaissance had netted him nothing except the knowledge that Henry Vachon enjoyed a princely lifestyle in a mansion big enough for a dozen people but inhabited by just himself and a small cadre of rank-and-file Breed guards. Hunter reduced that number by three as he stole up to the back of the house and efficiently slit the throats of the men posted at the door.

He crept inside what appeared to be an old servants' quarters, then swiftly, soundlessly, took the stairs leading up to the second floor of the estate.

A Gen One assassin waited for him at the top of the stairwell. Hunter still had the blade in his hand. He threw it, but the other male's reflexes knew the assault was coming, and quick, welltrained hands batted the dagger away. Hunter braced his hands on either side of the stairwell wall and lifted himself into a kick as his opponent launched himself toward him. They connected in midflight, coming down hard on the steps and rolling for a few before Hunter managed to get the upper hand. He had another blade sheathed on his weapons belt. He drew it and sliced in an instant, one swipe of his hand cutting cleanly across the Gen One's throat, the return sweep ripping through black nylon combat clothing, skin, muscle, and bone. The assassin went limp, bleeding out on the stairs while Hunter got back to his feet and climbed the rest of the way to the living quarters on the floor above.

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