Allegiance(5)

It certainly hadn’t been in London. The city’s starving vampire community had split into radical fringe groups, some even supporting the idea of revealing their existence to the unwitting human population. They believed vampires could rely on human mercy to save them.

Cage didn’t agree. He’d seen genocide and unspeakable behavior both in his human life and afterward. Mercy was a gift, not a given.

Starving vampires didn’t respond well to political rhetoric, however, so his Tribunal leader, Edward Simmons, had a boatload of work ahead to prevent his desperate people from committing the vampire version of seppuku. Things were slightly better in the States, he’d heard, but only because the vampire population was waiting to see how the blood banks would work.

“You got a lot of luggage?” Melissa pulled away from him and looked at the thinning crowd around the edges of the baggage carousel. “Aidan wanted to come himself, but he just got back from Washington and had a conference call with Colonel Thomas.” The human Army colonel, whose daughter was a member of the Penton scathe, had helped them put the old sadist Matthias away.

In exchange, the US vampires had agreed to stay hidden while banks of unvaccinated blood were set up. Starting with the Penton scathe, they’d also be providing vampire operatives to work side by side with human Army Rangers on national security cases. They’d taken the name Omega Force, after the underground bunker the Pentonites had lived in while their town was under siege.

Cage wanted to ask how the Omega Force units were doing, but Melissa wasn’t the right person. She’d not likely be privy to Tribunal or security issues.

For now, they’d keep the subject easy. “I travel light—one bag. Pull the car around, and I’ll meet you outside.”

Cage watched her leave, her navy sweater disappearing from view as she blended with the travelers piling in and out of taxis and shuttle buses. He quelled his instinctive rise of worry. She’d survived—maybe even thrived—away from him for the past three months. It would be too easy to fall back into protective mode, and they’d be right back where they were before, with her needing something he wasn’t capable of giving.

He turned back to the carousel and waited for his heavy trunk to roll round again; it was all he had to show from his life in London. He’d cleared out the flat he’d leased for the past five years. Longer than that in one place and the neighbors might wonder why the bloke down the corridor hadn’t aged. Not that he was there much. Soldiers of fortune went where they were hired and fought for whoever offered the most payoff in adrenaline and cash.

That life had grown old, however, and he had grown tired. Living in Penton and feeling part of a community had shown him how tired.

He’d donated most of his meager belongings to a local shelter, packed up the rest, and mailed the flat’s owner two months’ rent and the key. He’d broken the news to Edward Simmons—the UK Tribunal representative and his scathe master—that he wouldn’t be returning.

He just wanted Penton.

He rolled his trunk outside. The midnight-blue BMW idling in front of the baggage-claim exit belonged to Aidan—another reminder that it was not Cage’s job to be Melissa’s protector. Aidan took care of his people. He didn’t need Cage Reynolds to do it for him.

Melissa popped the trunk for him but got out and walked around, helping move some of Aidan’s papers aside to make room. His shoulder brushed hers, whisper light, but neither of them moved away. An accident or a test?

This time, when she turned and looked up at him, the lights from the taxis and other vehicles seemed to move like a carousel around their still little world, where nothing could touch them. Her lips parted slightly, but her expression was troubled, not aroused.

They spoke at the same time.

“We need to—”

“Now’s not the time, but—”

They smiled, and Melissa slammed the trunk. “You want to drive?”

Oh, hell no. “Love, the last thing I drove was a 1941 Peugeot, in Paris. You do not want me behind the wheel.”

She cocked her head. “I never knew you lived in Paris. Or were you visiting? This was before you were turned?”

“Before, yes.” He had no more to say on that subject. “Not a happy subject with me, though.”

Understatement. He hoped she’d let it go, and after studying him a second, she nodded and climbed behind the wheel. He strapped himself into the passenger seat.

They remained silent while she pulled the car away from the loading area and circled the terminal via the byzantine airport roadways. Well, this was damned awkward. Time to turn on the Reynolds charm. It wouldn’t do to get into relationship matters before they reached Penton. For one thing, he didn’t want her turning him out on the highway.