Sigma

Chapter 2

The vehicle carrying the gunman went around Sam’s car and passed them.

Sam glanced from them, back to Sugar. “I don’t know what you’re expecting me to do. I’m not exactly driving a racing car.” He followed the vehicles down the off-ramp. “Have you dialed nine-one-one yet?” His heart skipped a beat as he glimpsed the excitement on Sugar’s face.

She clutched the seat belt with her good hand. “No, I’m too busy hanging on.”

He shook his head. “Forget this. I’m not risking you.” He eased off the gas. “Enough excitement for one night.”

The first car, driven by the woman, screeched to a stop at the park. Leaving her vehicle on the grass, she jumped out and ran for the shadows of the trees.

Sam punched the dash. “What is she doing?”

Her pursuers followed suit, leaping out their doors. The gunman knelt, taking aim with his rifle.

“Sam!” Sugar cried out and pointed.

He held his breath and braced his arms against the steering wheel. Pressing the gas pedal to the floor, he aimed for the gunman. His vintage car jumped the curb and roared over the grass.

Light flashed from the gun’s barrel as the man pulled the trigger. The shot rang through the night air.

Sam flinched, the sharp noise assaulting his sensitive hearing. However, he couldn’t tear his gaze from the fleeing woman.

With arms flung out in front and a red bloom expanding on her pink t-shirt, she collapsed onto the grass, face down, not moving.

Heart racing, Sam blinked his unbelieving eyes. “Fuck!” He spun the wheel, clipping the murderer with the fender of his car. His beast roused for the first time in months and it peered through his eyes. For one glorious moment they were one without the shift.

“Get down on the floorboards, Sug.” The last thing either of them needed was for her to be shot.

She undid her belt and wiggled off her seat, melting to the floor.

Once she was as safe as could be, he charged out the car door and released his beast. It tore through his flesh with aching familiarity. Claws punctured from the tips of his fingers as fur sprouted from his flesh. He embraced the pain. The shift happened fast, shredding his clothes off in an explosion of blood and fabric.

The engine of his car let out a death rattle, leaving a blanket of silence over the park. He stepped in front of the headlights, allowing his shadow to paint over the men.

Someone hissed.

Sam straightened and cocked his head to the side. Okay, not men.

Vampires.

Shit. Time to get his ass kicked. As a four-hundred-pound, bipedal beast of blood-thirsty-fury, he jumped and landed on the attackers, raking his claws across the closest vamp’s neck, almost decapitating him. Using the momentum, he reached forward and stabbed the second in the heart, twisting his wrist to shred the organ.

He crouched, claws extended and ready.

Crumpled on the ground, neither assailant attempted to rise.

Sniffing, Sam drew closer. He’d won? They weren’t exactly his first vampires. His trainer and Sugar’s fiance, Daedalus, was a Nosferatu warrior. In comparison, these bloodsuckers were sissies.

He sprinted toward the injured female. What should he do? The police wouldn’t be happy about vampires and shifters being involved in a human shooting. If this got out to the press, there would be riots.

She struggled to sit.

He slowed, his steps faltering. That shot should have killed her. He shifted back to human form so he could speak. “Don’t move.” Kneeling next to her, he placed an arm around her shoulders. Blood coated his hand.

“Help me up. They can’t get me.” Her words came out halted, between gasps.

“Stay still. I’ll call for help.”

She grabbed his arm with surprising strength. “No.”

He slipped his hands around her slight build and stroked the hair from her face. “You’ve been shot. You need a hospital, you’re going into shock.”

She shook her head. “Bullets hurt, but they missed my heart.” Delicate fangs flashed between her rosebud lips as she spoke. “My master is on the way.”

He blinked. He’d landed in the center of a vampire squabble. Of all the stupid things he could have done, this topped the list. Eric, his alpha, would help Daedalus skin him. Scooping the female in his arms, he carried her back to his car while shaking his head. “There are other ways to settle differences besides guns. What if a human had been caught in the cross fire?”

The gunman rolled onto his knees.

Without breaking stride, Sam kicked him in the head with a satisfying crunch. Pain raced through his bare foot and he grimaced, but the hurt was worth it. He twisted at the sound of screeching tires. “I hope this is your master. I don’t think I can shift again so soon.”

A sports car rounded the corner, speeding in their direction.

He dashed toward his vehicle, intent on shoving her into the back seat until he knew for sure who drove toward them.

“That should be him.” She gave the car a feeble wave. “I think.”

Twisting toward the slowing black Audi, he skidded to a stop. A familiar baldheaded Nosferatu launched from the driver’s side. Sam’s heart plummeted. “Oh, shit.”

Daedalus stopped mid-stride and their stares met. “What the fuck are you doing here? You’re supposed to be picking up Sugar.” His gaze traveled to Sam’s car. “You didn’t.”

“Wait, I can explain. She–” He held up the vampire in his arms. “Was in trouble…”

Before Sam could finish, the Nosferatu was in his car. “Babe?” Daedalus glared at Sam from the passenger side. Amazing the windshield didn’t melt. “What are you doing here and not safe at home?” Daedalus gathered Sugar in his arms.

“There was shooting–” Sam tried to explain, but what was the use? The Nosferatu had already decided not to listen.

Daedalus’s stare traveled to the female vampire, then to the unconscious ones on the ground.

“Sugar told me–” Sam was a loser. Nothing he said could defend his actions. As Sigma, he sucked with extra lemon sauce.

“Don’t be angry at Sam. I forced him to follow.” Sugar caressed Daedalus’s cheek. “Where were you?”

“Trying to help her.” He gestured to the half-conscious vampire in Sam’s arms. “And keeping you safe.” The Nosferatu deflated before Sam’s eyes. “Fuck, I can’t believe you brought her into a gun fight.”

“Daedalus.” Sugar swatted his shoulder and squirmed in his arms. “Put me down.”

He ignored her and tried to give her a kiss.

She turned her face and gave him a cheek.

“We’ll speak about this at home.” He buckled her in the car and closed the door before approaching them. Stopping by the gunman’s body, he stared intently at the face. “I don’t remember him, Clementine.”

“They hired him after you left,” the female vampire responded. “They are a lot of new vampires at Pal Robi in the last few months, since most of the older ones have left.”

“Do you still possess the thumb drive?”

“Yes, Master.” She squirmed in Sam’s arms and removed it from her back pants pocket, handing it to Daedalus.

Master?

Without hesitation, the Nosferatu unsheathed a long knife, almost machete sized, from beneath his leather trench coat and decapitated both vampire attackers.

Sam sucked in a breath. “That’s murder.”

The look Daedalus gave him said he was lucky to keep his own head attached to his shoulders. “Take Clementine back to the brownstone. Don’t get involved in any more trouble.” He grabbed Sam’s shoulder, and the bones creaked under the pressure. “And don’t mess this up.”

Stabbed in the stomach by his words, Sam nodded in silence. He’d done it again. He’d let Sugar down.

She’d seemed so full of life, almost her old self, as she demanded he help the vampire female. It was the right thing to do, wasn’t it? He didn’t know anymore. Right and wrong had blurred ever since the Omegas, their old small pack, had absorbed Chicago’s major shifter pack, combining to become the Vasi. Eric, one of his best friends, had defeated the old corrupt alpha by beating the crap out of him, which left him in charge of Chicago. Sam wouldn’t have left him in such a bind alone. Hell, none of them had. They had all moved into Sugar’s brownstone and had helped the huge pack come together. Sugar’s twin, Spice, even had shacked up with Eric and had become their alpha female.

They’d been so young and naïve when they’d hired Daedalus to train them to fight. Sam hadn’t expected Eric to actually win the challenge. For fuck sakes, he’d had been fine with just living through the whole nightmare. They’d fought off take-overs, kidnappers, and recruited a slayer. Not bad for a bunch of omega dweebs.

“Sam?” A small voice broke into his thoughts.

He shook his head, ignoring his growing shame, and smiled at the petite vampire in his arms. Her short, spring-formed curls cut close to her head stirred in the breeze. She appeared delicate and fragile in his arms. With rosebud lips, sparkling brown eyes, and a flush blooming over her pale cheeks, she almost seemed human. “You call him master?” He nodded toward the departing Audi. “What do I have to do to get you to call me that?”

Ignoring the burning in her back, Clementine swung her arm in an arc and slapped the smug grin off Sam’s face.

He staggered, almost dropping her, but kept his hold and balance. She must be weak from blood loss. The strike should have knocked him out.

Wriggling out of his arms, she clutched her sides. Pain radiated from her spine around to her abdomen. Sharp stabs still plagued every breath. She lifted the edge of her ruined t-shirt and examined her front. No exit wound.

The bullet was still in her, which meant it would hurt until someone dug it out. Her stomach turned at the idea. “I’m going to be sick.” She sunk to her knees and bowed her head.

“Easy.” Sam rubbed her neck. “Slow breaths. What can I do to help?”

She glimpsed his bare thighs, her eyes wandering higher and growing wider. “You’re naked.” She focused on the grass again, her nausea forgotten.

He chuckled. “I haven’t had time to dress since shifting.” He pulled on a pair of torn jeans that hung too low on his hips. If anything, they made him appear more appetizing.

“I need to feed.”

“Here.” He offered her his wrist.

“First, we need to dig out the bullet in my back. If I feed now, I’ll heal faster and then you’ll have to cut me open again.”

Silence.

She glanced at him.

His face drained of color as he swallowed visibly. “I don’t think we should hang around here, though.” He gestured to the decapitated Pal Robi security.

“I agree.” On unsteady legs, she rose and shuffled to his car.

He raced ahead of her and opened her door, then set his shredded shirt over the passenger seat. “Blood stains are hard on the upholstery.”

Ignoring the half-naked shifter, she curled forward on her seat, splinting her sides. For a moment she had mistaken him for a gentleman.

“Seat belt.” He reached around her.

She jerked at his touch, wincing at the sharp stab. “Are you joking? I’m shot and you’re worried about a belt?”

“After the night I’ve had? We’re bound to get into more trouble. It follows me like a bad smell lately. The last thing I need is to have a car accident and you thrown from the vehicle.” He weaved the belt through her limbs and clipped her in. “You are one tough broad. That bullet should have torn right through you.”

She almost smiled at his praise, but it galled her. “The bullets are special made to lodge in a vampire’s body. Not to kill, but to wound and slow prey with pain. As the wound heals, it hurts more.”

He shuddered. “Sadistic bastards.”

“Daedalus developed them.”

“Why am I not surprised?” He closed her door and entered on the driver’s side. “They wanted you alive, then?”

“Sam, can we talk less and drive more? My wound is closing.”

The engine protested as Sam cranked the key and pumped the gas pedal. His shaggy dark brown hair settled around his shoulders in a just-fell-out-of-bed way. Thick muscles moved under his skin as he cranked the key again.

Was that a prayer he’d just mumbled under his breath? She had risked her eternal existence for her master and he had abandoned her. Left her shot, with a stranger in a car that wouldn’t start, for a damaged human female.

Maybe the rumors were true? Whispers at Pal Robi suggested Daedalus had grown a heart.

She smiled inside. That would be something to witness.

Sam cursed a string of swears that left her ears stinging. The car wouldn’t start and sirens sang in the distance. He started swearing again.

The pain worsened but it didn’t compare to her growing fear. What were they going to do? She wasn’t accustomed to having to make split second life-depending decisions. Her world had consisted of meetings and memos.

Jumping out of the car, Sam opened her door, undid her belt, grabbed his cellphone, and carried her away like a hero out of a fairy tale. “We need to not be here.”

“Too bad it wasn’t closer to dawn. The bodies would vanish with the sunlight.” She stared over his shoulder at the dead vampires.

He jogged away from the cars. “Doesn’t matter. In this city, they’ll do a minimal investigation because no humans were involved. However, it’s still better not to be here. They might want a scapegoat and sometimes they forget to give vampires cells with no windows. If you get what I mean.”

The jostling jarred her injuries. “Where are we going?” She gritted her teeth, trying not to cry out.

He crossed the street and entered the first alley available. Continuing to jog until he rounded the corner of the building, he set her on her feet, then pulled out his phone. “I’ll call for someone to pick us up.”

She leaned against the wall and sank to the ground, a hard lump forming in her chest. “The cops will look for you once they run your plates.” She never should have answered her master’s call, never downloaded those secured files, and never have come to Chicago.

“Damn, my phone is dead. Where’s yours?”

She shook her head. Her phone lay in the grass where she’d dropped it when she was shot. Tears burned behind her eyelids as she squeezed them shut.

Sam growled, the sound fierce and frustrated. He knelt by her and gently gathered her in his arms. “It’ll be okay, Clementine. I’ll take care of you.”

Good, it was about time someone did. She leaned her head on his shoulder. She would not cry. She would not cry. She kept repeating this litany as if it were a defensive spell, but the tears were close to winning.

“I see a motel down the block. It’s not five star, more like a shit hole, but they might not ask about my clothes or your blood, and they’ll have a phone in the room. I can take care of your bullet in there.”