Page 2 of From the Shadows
Diego shrugged. “Haven’t made up my mind yet.”
“Yeah, you did. You do this every year, D. I won’t tell you to let it go. We’ve been trying to get you to do that for years now.”
Diego turned, his arms folded, and leaned back against the banged-up stainless steel floor-to-ceiling counter and cabinet Sparks kept his tools in. “How can I?”
“Because you were doing your job. It’s what you were sent to do, and?—”
“And?” An ache in his chest had Diego trying to dial it back, but the pain that was always there, always seared through him, was worse tonight than any other. “How do you expect me to get past this? Tell me, Sparks, because I need someone to.”
A deep sigh rolled out of their mechanic. “I wish I had ananswer, I do.” He wiped his hands off on an already-grease-stained blue rag, then moved toward Diego. “It’s not your fault. It never was. She wasn’t a good person, and you did your job. Period. Have you tried talking to Pat?”
Diego nodded. “She says the same thing you do. Move past it by focusing on the present while planning for the future.”
“But you can’t.”
Diego pushed off the counter and leaned against the Bugatti. He couldn’t help but note the look of horror on Sparks’s face. So what if the car cost their benefactor four million dollars? It wasn’t as though Biggs couldn’t afford it. “Nope. I’m reminded every morning when I wake up and look into Jerm’s eyes, and then I dream about it every night when I fall asleep.”
“So you’re going to… what? Go have your yearly visit, then hit the track?”
“Dunno. Maybe I’ll just hit the wall. At least then I wouldn’t have to?—”
Say that again, and I’m going to have them lock you up.
And of course, Pat was listening. “Not nice to eavesdrop on a private conversation, Empatia.”
If someone wasn’t avoiding his appointments, I wouldn’t have to, would I?
She had a point. “Would it help if I said I was sorry?”
Lying to a mind reader? Really?
Yeah, Diego didn’t think it would work. “Look, I gotta go.”
Tomorrow, Diego. My office, nine sharp. If you’re not here, I’m going to call Mr. Biggs.
Well, crap. “Why can’t you just let me sort this shit out myself?”
It’s been years, and you’re no closer to doing that. I’ve tried doing it your way, and that hasn’t helped.
“Why don’t you tell me something I don’t already know?” Diego snapped.
Tomorrow. Nine sharp. One minute late, and we’ll be sitting down with your boss. If I tell him to do it, he’ll take you off the roster.
And then she was gone.
“Taking the Chiron,” Diego growled at Sparks. “I’ll do my best to bring it back in one piece, but no promises.”
Before Sparks could say anything, Diego stomped to one of his favorites, opened the door, got in, and reached for the key in the ignition. He gave it a twist, and the car roared to life. He loved the way it felt, the rumbles coursing through him, vibrating to his very core. He scorched up the road as he headed to meet his yearly requirement. Or penance. He couldn’t say which.
Through the wrought iron gate, the place looked good. The grounds were well-kept, with evergreen trees dotting the land at regular intervals. A reminder that life continued, despite the problems. After driving twenty minutes he reached his destination. He took a deep, bracing breath as he parked, then got out and locked the door. Once at the gate, he could have simply misted, but instead used his key to unlock it and pass through. He could close his eyes and find her, but that seemed disrespectful.
When he reached her, he slipped a hand into his pocket and pulled out the silver flask that contained a special concoction Santana had mixed up for him. Vampires were notoriously hard to get drunk, so Santana had to use herbs that would lower Diego’s supernatural resistances to alcohol.
“Hey, Kendra. Happy birthday.” He settled on the grass beside the grave, took the top off the flask, and downed a healthy swig. He winced as it hit his throat, burning all the way to his stomach. He’d been doing this for too long. Coming here never eased the pain in his gut. Hell, if anything, it made it worse, because he had to go through every goddamn action from that night, trying to see if he could find something—anything—that might have made things end differently.
Biggs had called and said Kendra James was in town. She was wanted in the deaths of four people, and bringing her in would be a feather in the cap of the team, especially considering she’d escaped or killed every other person they’d sent to bring her in. Diego assembled the group—himself, Martin, Ranna, and Borne—and they tracked her to what amounted to nothing more than a shack in the hills. On the way there, the mood was light, almost jovial. They were going to bag a murderer tonight, and get paid for it! How cool was their job?
When they got there, Diego decided he should face Kendra and the others would stay outside in case she somehow made it by him. Diego misted in, careful to stick to the shadows where he’d be harder to see. Kendra wasn’t there, but she’d left suitcases on the bed, and her vehicle was still parked outside, so Diego waited. He couldn’t believe she’d been here such a short time and already had a mass of clothing strewn on the floor. He’d expected better of a woman who was always poised to run.
