The Wolf (Black Dagger Brotherhood: Prison Camp #2)(79)

Rio didn’t finish the thought as something in the background caught her attention. Looking around Luke’s muscled arm, she blinked. A couple of times.

The two sounds she’d thought were bags hitting the floor had not been about any kind of Samsonite. Apex had done something dramatic to the two guards. The two men were both lying facedown—no, wait, their bodies were on their stomachs. Their heads were facing upward.

Meanwhile, the guy was walking over to the open door and calmly shutting it. Locking it. “We’ve got problems now.”

“More,” she corrected numbly. “We have more problems.”

As she stated the obvious, a series of Caldwell Police Department rules and regulations weaved their way around the fact pattern of everything that had just happened with the man and the big knife and the handgun she still had in her palm.

She was in over her head. Big time. And her allies in the situation were a pair of drug-dealing killers.

“All right,” Luke said as he started to pace around like he was thinking.

When he came up to a display of rifles mounted on the wall, he nodded like he’d sought their advice and decided to do what they’d told him to. “We need to play this like we’ve taken over. Apex, you and Mayhem will stand guard out in front of here until nightfall. No one will question it. Then, as soon as it’s dark, I’ll take her out—”

“Brace yourself for the head of the guards.” Apex went over to check out the bald guy. “They’ve been looking for their opening all along, and they’re going to see this corpse as a challenge, not a done deal. And do you really want to run this place?”

“We’ll deal with that as it comes.” Luke glanced to the closed door. “In the meantime, we make this death really fucking obvious. We hang the body up outside on the wall. It’s a coup. We’re in control now.”

Apex shook his head. “It won’t last. The guards are going to attack.”

“It doesn’t have to last. All I need is nightfall.”

While they talked, Rio did some walking around herself, the contents of the large space finally registering properly. Things were set up as a military seat of command, the bed and an old forties wardrobe the only civilian furniture, the rest of it collections of rifles and guns, what she knew were explosives—and then other supplies including food, water, and camping equipment, like the man had been prepared to get gone at a moment’s notice.

Coming up to a rudimentary conference table, she tried to look casual as she checked out all kinds of documents with columns on them. Everything was handwritten—which made sense as there was no computer or electronics around that she could see—and the data was organized by dates, weights, and dollars. Wait, there was also a list of names and times.

She needed to copy this all somehow, even though that was crazy.

And where’s the money, she wondered.

With this sort of scale, there was going to be a crap ton of cash somewhere on the premises, and that presented both a security and a storage challenge.

Just before she turned away, she saw the cell phone. It was a newish one, without a protective case, nothing but a flat plane of glass you could access the world with. Glancing across at Luke and Apex, she put her hand out and scooped the slippery unit into her palm.

It didn’t fit in her side pocket. Too big.

So she turned her back to the pair of them and put it down the front of her pants, inside her underwear.

When she pivoted around again, Apex had the dead guy up off the floor, the knife that had been in that hand falling loose and bouncing in a clatter.

“I’ll take care of this,” he said. “And find Mayhem.”

With an utter lack of bother, like he was doing nothing more than moving a sack of potatoes around, he went over to a keypad, entered a series of numbers in a pattern, and opened the way out.

And then she and Luke were alone.

Well, as long as you didn’t count the two dead guys on the floor. But really, they weren’t going to interrupt much, were they.

“I need to put both of them out there, too,” Luke said in an apologetic tone.

As if they were a pair of houseguests who had overstayed their welcome.

“I can help.” She glanced over at him. “We’ll do it together.”



“Are you okay?”

As Lucan asked the question, his eyes were making like they were tied to a brain that had any kind of medical training, going up and down Rio’s body, searching for injury. More injury, that was. But she seemed all right. Her color was good and he could scent no blood other than the Executioner’s.

Goddamn, the woman was like a cat with nine lives.

“Yeah, I’m all right.” She continued her walk around, stopping over by the back door that led out into the parking area. “There’s a keypad here. I’m taking that means it’s got a lock on it.”

“Yeah, everything’s secured—” When she went to pull at the handle anyway, he put his hands forward. “Wait! Stop!”

She froze. “What?”

“Don’t open that.”

“Oh, you think it’s alarmed?”

No, he didn’t want to take any risk that it would let in a stream of daylight—because unless there was a nuclear-winter-worthy cloud cover in the sky, he’d end up a flaming ball of vampire.