it. End of story. It would be best if he simply forgot about her. Blood tie or no blood tie. She hadn’t had much of his blood so the effects should fade away quickly for her.
Cordell texted him just as he finished dressing. When he returned to the computer lab a few minutes later, he stared at the data on the large screen, organized into tables and charts.
“What is that?” He had a bad feeling about this.
“It’s a list of known sweetbloods in this sector. Looks like they’re doing blood collections without killing. Or at least that’s what it looks they’re doing,” Cordell said.
“A catch and release?” Since when had they been doing that? An icy chill ran through his body, erasing any of the remaining warmth from his evening memories. This kind of premeditation required planning, organization and restraint. Much more than the haphazard draining and killing the DBs’ cells normally did. This was something new.
“Yeah, and look. It appears they’ve got them on a three-week rotation. That window is much too short. Those people have probably been wondering why they’re always so tired.”
“Yes, until one day when they don’t return home. When the DBs fuck up and drain them completely like they normally do. Scroll down.”
Dom held his breath as Cordell clicked through the list of names, ages, addresses and collection dates. Shit. They were all so young. Decker, Marsha, age 21; Dinsmore, Scott, age 17; Grant, Crystal, age 14. No Foster-Shaw. He blew the air out in a quiet breath of relief. The Darkbloods didn’t know about her. “Wait. Keep going.” Cordell paged through the rest of the list. No Shaws, either. Thank God. “We’ll set up regular patrols around these people in order to catch the DBs who come to pick them up. What do you think—twenty or thirty of them in the Seattle area?”
Cordell clicked through the list and said something about the team being spread too thin, but Dom ignored him.
“Let Santiago know what’s going on,” Dom said. “The other regions need to know about this change in Darkblood operations. I’ve never heard of them doing this before. They usually just sell the blood when they get their hands on a sweetblood. This is way too organized. If they’re doing it up here, they’re probably either doing it or planning to in other regions.”
Down in the weapons center, Dom grabbed a couple of handguns, a set of silver-tipped brass knuckles and several pairs of silver-lined handcuffs, taking care to handle them only from their steel clips. The downtown clubs were closing soon and a whole horde of losers would be out looking for trouble. Or at least that’s why he told himself he was going out. To put his mind at ease, he wanted to run up to the Northend and double-check she made it home, before he focused on what his team needed to do.
On his way out the door, he paused. What the hell. He grabbed his protection vest then hit the lights.
CHAPTER EIGHT
“MACKENZIE, BE A peach.” Martin crooned over the phone. “Please? For me?”
“You know I’d do it in a heartbeat, but I’ve been feeling like crap lately.” Not really, but she didn’t know how else to explain it. Restless maybe? “I think I’m coming down with something. You can’t find anyone else to do it?”
“Although I love these installation guys, I don’t trust them to hang the piece correctly. They need supervision, otherwise the thing will be slapped up on any old wall. I’d do it, but I completely forgot my teaching schedule is different this term. I’m in class in less than an hour.” She heard him sniff away a couple of fake tears through the phone connection.
“Yeah, Martin, talk about embarrassing. I’m helping hang a picture of my naked self.”
“If you’re not up to it, I understand. I’ll just reschedule.”
It would give her a chance to see the painting one last time. To see its new home. “Oh, all right. So if I need you to cover for one of my classes, you won’t bitch about it, will you?”
“Of course not. I knew I could count on you.”
“Where do they live? One of the suburbs? Traffic getting over there will be a nightmare at this time of the morning.”
“Nope. One of the artist lofts in Pioneer Square. Shouldn’t take you too long to get there from the studio.”
She hung up the phone and finished getting ready. She’d planned to shoot some pictures of the docks this afternoon anyway,