But I knew why he wanted me there ASAP. Our suspect would be easier to catch, easier to handle, now. This was Jack's version of mollycoddling me.

So I simply said, "I'll be in touch."

Jack's voice rolled through the background again, then Sal said, "He says to keep the com-link open so we can hear what is going on, but we both know that won't happen."

I grinned but did as requested, although I did cut their ability to talk to me. I didn't need Jack or Sal buzzing in my ear if things got nasty.

I continued to drive along Citylink. The computer beeped, indicating it was receiving information. I touched the screen. The image that appeared had red hair and bright blue eyes, and he was young - probably no more than nineteen or twenty. It had to be the least threatening image I'd ever seen, but I'd learned over the years never to judge a book by its cover. For all I knew, this innocent-looking kid could be the underworld's best hit man. With that face, no one would ever suspect him.

When the High Street exit ramp came into view, I moved over to the left lane, then took the ramp. Several cars back, my red follower did the same.

It was looking less like imagination every minute.

The lights turned green as I approached, and I followed the traffic around to the left. A parking lot came into view, so I swung into that, parked the car in front of the trees, then quickly jumped out, locking the car before shifting into my seagull form.

The red Mazda came into view just as I walked under the car to keep out of sight.

It slowed but didn't stop. I couldn't see the driver thanks to the fact that I was under the car, but I didn't dare come out, because I had no idea how much my follower knew about me.

When the car had moved far enough away, I walked out from beneath the car and took to the air, surging upward swiftly and easily - something I'd have sworn wouldn't have been possible when I'd first started learning to fly.

The red car crawled along the curb until there was a break in the traffic, then did a quick U-turn and parked in the lot on the opposite side of the street to the one I was parked in.

I landed on the outstretched limb of a scrawny gum and walked along its length to get a better view of the Mazda's driver.

It wasn't the granny's nephew. The driver was a swarthy-looking man who was all teeth and nose. His shoulders were thickset and his arms were the size of tree trunks. He didn't look like a wolf, because we tend to be slender, and I couldn't really see Blake using a non - pack member against me. He wouldn't risk that sort of exposure with people he couldn't trust absolutely - or put the fear of God into.

Of course, he had used Kye to guard his son, but at least Kye had been a wolf. He'd also been the very best killer that money could buy.

Except that he wasn't the best, because I'd killed him.

So did that make me the best?

No, I thought. No!

I forced the darkness away and tried to concentrate on the here and now. Whatever this man was, he could never be called the best. He couldn't even tail someone properly.

But maybe that was the whole point.

I watched the driver for several minutes. When it became obvious that he had no intention of going anywhere until I did, I fluttered down to the road and strutted up to his car. He didn't even look my way.

I shifted back to my human form, keeping low as I waited to see if he picked up my presence. But there was no movement from inside the car and no sting of tension or excitement in the air - either of which would have indicated he was aware that something was close, if not me.

Which meant either he was too intent on his target to hold an awareness of his surroundings - which would make him a very bad tracker - or he was something other than a wolf.

Either way, he was about to regret his decision to follow a guardian.

Chapter 3

I silently counted to three then surged to my feet and ripped open the door, almost pulling it off its hinges in the process. The man jerked sideways, his fist swinging in reaction. He was fast, but not wolf fast, and while his scent wasn't human, I didn't think he was entirely nonhuman, either.

I avoided his blow, grabbed a fistful of shirt, and hauled him out of the car. He came out swinging, making me duck and weave as I thrust him back against the rear door.

He grunted but otherwise showed little reaction to the force of my push. He really was a man-mountain, his stocky, muscular body matching his thick shoulders and boulder-like arms. But I was a wolf and a vampire. He had no hope against me.

I held him pinned with one hand, then caught one swinging fist in the other. The smack of flesh against flesh sounded like a gunshot.

Even this close to him, I couldn't tell if he was human or not. He didn't seem to have any particular scent, which made me wonder if he was using a scent neutralizer - though I'd never heard of one that actually erased the markers of your species.

"Enough," I said, squeezing his fingers. Even though my hand wasn't large enough to entirely cover his, I could still cause some serious damage if I wanted to. And he was smart enough to realize it.

"What fucking right have you got to haul me out of the car like that?"

"Scum who are spotted trailing guardians don't have any rights. Why are you doing it, and who's paying you?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about. I was just sitting there drinking my coffee."

My gaze flicked briefly to the inside of his car. He did indeed have a travel mug sitting in the center console, but I seriously doubted the rest of his story. There was too much tension emanating from his body for an innocent man.

"We have two options here," I said, squeezing his hand a little harder. I could smell the sweat on him so I knew it had to be hurting, but there was no sign of fear or pain on his face or in his eyes. A tough man, through and through. "I can beat you to a pulp and then get my answers, or you can simply give me the answers I want and walk away without broken bones."

He considered it for several heartbeats, then said, "How do I know you're a fucking guardian?"

I shifted my grip slightly and pulled out my badge, showed it to him, then put it away again. "Now, why are you following me?"

"Because that's what I'm being paid to do."

"By whom?"

He shrugged. "I'm just a contractor."

Meaning there was some sort an underworld job agency hiring out thugs? I'm not sure why I was surprised, given all that I'd seen over the last few years, but for some reason I was.

"So give me your boss's name and we'll call it quits."

He snorted, spraying fine particles of snot over my hand. Charming. "Get real. He'll kill me if I did that."

"And I'll kill you if you don't."

I wouldn't - and couldn't if he was human, thanks to the law - but it never hurt to make the threat. Both the general public and the criminals we hunted know so little about what guardians can and can't do that making threats was often the easiest way of getting results.

"Fuck." He shifted his stance a little, and I tensed, half expecting him to try and kick me. But he didn't. "Okay. I'm not getting paid enough to mess with the likes of you."

"So he didn't tell you I was a guardian?" I reached out telepathically and lightly connected with his thoughts -

not enough for him to sense me but more than enough to tell truth from lies.

"No." His voice was hostile, indicating he wasn't too happy with his boss right now.

"And the plate number didn't make you realize?" I mean, the Directorate, like all government departments, had their own plates. It would have been a little hard to miss the fact that he wasn't following an ordinary car.

"Well, yeah, but you could have been an office worker for all I knew. I didn't know we had female guardians who weren't vamps."

Few people did - mainly because I was the only one. "So, the name of your boss?"

"Henry. Henry Bottchelli."

"And Bottchelli didn't tell you why he wanted me followed?"

"Nope. Just that I had to follow you for the next couple of days, providing regular updates about your location."

That bit of news sent a chill down my spine. "Did he say why he wanted this information?"

"Nope. I'm paid to do a job, not ask questions."

And I was thinking it was more a case of "the less he knew, the less he could blab." "Is Bottchelli his real name?"

"Yeah." He hesitated. "As far as I know."

"How do I find him?"

He moved again, and the quick desire to lash out ran through his thoughts. He dismissed it, but not easily. I squeezed his hand harder, making him concentrate on me and the pain rather than the escape he was contemplating.

"I've only got a cell number. He contacts me with the job, and I contact him when the job is done."

Meaning whoever the boss was, he was extremely cautious. Which sounded very much like Blake.

"When did he contact you about this job?"

"Yesterday morning."

"How did you find me in Melton?"

"Cell phone scanner. Heard them call you to the murder, so I just waited out of sight."

Meaning I'd have to change my number, pronto. "Give me the number you use to contact your boss."

Again he hesitated. And this time, the need to retaliate surged into action and he lashed out with a booted foot. I jumped away from the blow, but the tip of his steel-capped boots skimmed my shin with enough force behind it to make pain shimmer up my leg. But I didn't let go of him and my sudden movement unbalanced him, pulling him away from the car. His free arm flailed as he tried to regain his balance, but I released his other hand and gave him an additional shove.

He landed heavily on his hands and knees. I planted a heel on his back and forced him into the dirt.

"Now, shall we try that again?" I said, voice cold. "Or shall I drive this stiletto right through your spine?"

"Bitch," he muttered - though his thoughts were a whole lot more colorful and creative.

"Phone number," I said, barely resisting the impulse to smile. Only to have the impulse die almost as suddenly as it had risen.

What had happened to the reluctance to do this job? What had happened to the fear that I could one day take it too far?

But I didn't ease the pressure of my heel on his back. I might fear what I was becoming, but I feared whatever Blake had planned more.

He gave me the phone number. I shoved it into my memory banks, then said, "And your name?"

"Rudy White."

His thoughts said he was telling the truth. They also told me where he lived, so I could find him again if I needed to.

"Well, Rudy, I suggest very strongly that you give up trailing, because you're not very good at it." I stepped away and he scrambled to his feet with surprising dexterity for such a big man. "And if I spot you following me again, I'll throw your ass in jail and throw away the key."

"You can't do that - "

"I can do anything I want with scum like you. Remember that the next time you take on a job that involves Directorate personnel."

He scowled but didn't say anything.

"Now get into the car and drive away," I added.

He obeyed. I waited until he'd left the parking lot, then pressed the com-link button and said, "You heard all that?"

"Yep," Sal said, "Jack's already applied for a new cell number for you. We should have it within an hour or so. The phone number White gave us is listed as belonging to a Frank Wise. Who, according to our records, was beheaded several months ago in a robbery gone wrong."

Interesting. "What about Bottchelli?"

"He's another man with no official records of any kind."

I might not have any proof, but I'd bet my very last dollar that Blake was the man behind both identities.

"Meaning he has unofficial ones?"

"Actually, no. But his name has been linked to a number of armed robberies, including several that ended up with fatalities."

Not a bad effort for a man who apparently didn't exist. "Meaning we haven't got as much as a license picture or an address for him?"

"No. Jack's just given the go-ahead to break into the phone records of both men to see if we can find any connecting numbers. That'll give us a starting place."

Which meant Jack was taking this situation seriously, because even he could get into considerable trouble for doing that without approval from the higher-ups. Not that that had ever stopped any of us before. "Let me know what you get. I'm heading over to the vamp's place now."

"Right."

I crossed the road and headed back to my car. Once there, I got rid of my bra, which had - as usual - been shredded by the shift into seagull form. One of these days, I thought, flinging it onto the backseat, the Directorate were going to have to pay me for the cost of replacements, because bras were costing me a small fortune. And while Quinn might have bags of money, and had offered more than once to provide for me, I refused to be looked after like that. I might want to spend the rest of my life with him, but I wanted to pay my own way whenever possible.

I got back onto the freeway and made my way down to Mount Martha. The vampire suspect lived in the middle of an estate situated between the Nepean and Moorooduc highways, and certainly didn't have any of the sea views that the area was famous for. The house itself was a standard brick veneer - the type of house that could be seen in dozens of different estates all over Melbourne. But the gardens were well kept, the grass cut, and there was a average-looking station wagon parked in the carport. I wondered if the neighbors were even aware that they had a vampire living amongst them.