Instead of heading straight for the lockers that he spotted at the entrance to platform one, he perused the departure board. Only five more trains were scheduled for the remainder of the night. He looked over the passengers waiting on the platforms. His suspicious nature was appeased when he confirmed that only those platforms where trains were due in the next half hour were occupied by people. Good. At least on the surface, it appeared as if only genuine travelers were at the station.
Quinn turned and wandered toward platform one. He’d memorized the number on the key and now scanned the rows and columns of lockers, looking for it. There weren’t many, and he was lucky; his number was among them. He glanced over his shoulder and noticed the station agent pacing.
Turning his attention back to the lockers, Quinn reached into his pocket and pulled out the key. He inserted it into the lock and was encouraged momentarily when it turned, but there was only a click. He pulled, but the door didn’t open.
Steps from behind him made him spin on his heels, ready to attack.
“If it doesn’t open,” the station agent drawled, “then you gotta put more money in it.” He pointed toward a red flag over the lock that screamed EXPIRED.
“Oh, thanks.” Quinn pulled a few coins from his jeans pocket and dropped them in. After the third coin, the flag switched to green. He twisted the handle and heard another click.
The little hairs on his nape stood in alert. Quickly, he sucked in a deep breath. Shit! A familiar scent reached his sensitive nostrils.
“Still not opening?” The station agent’s hand came up and reached for the handle. “Sometimes you’ve gotta yank it.” And he did.
“NOOOOOO!” Quinn screamed to stop the man from pulling on the door and jerking it open, but it was too late.
The explosion rocked him back and, acting purely on instinct, Quinn jumped, grabbed the man and hauled them both several feet down the platform. As he covered the station agent with his own body, searing heat passed over him and debris scattered. Luckily, his heavy leather coat provided some protection from the heat as well as the metal items that flew through the air.
“Shit!” he cursed again. He’d smelled the residue of the explosive the moment the station agent had gripped the door and yanked it open.
Excited voices and screams came from the waiting passengers, and from the corner of his eye he saw several people running. Quinn turned his head, surveying the crowd, but his eyes strayed into the distance to the far platform where one man stood, not having moved.
Their gazes met for an instant, and even from a distance of three hundred yards, Quinn recognized the aura of a vampire. He could have sworn the guy hadn’t been there earlier.
Fuck!
He lifted himself off the station agent, who, although shaken, appeared uninjured. Helpful hands reached for him, but the good Samaritans were only getting in his way. When he looked back at the vampire, he was already gone.
Now all he could do was damage control. He counted: two dozen people had witnessed the explosion. He needed help. Pronto.
Chapter Seventeen
“Zane, I need you at the train station on 4th and King, now,” Quinn’s frantic voice sounded through his cell. In the background, Zane heard a commotion. “There was an explosion.”
“Fuck! I’ll be there in ten minutes.”
“Make that five. We need damage control.”
Zane flipped the phone shut and looked toward the stairs that led up to Portia’s room.
“Portia! Come down now!” he yelled.
To his surprise, she rushed down the stairs a few second later, a stunned look on her face. “What’s wrong?”
A hell of a lot of things, but he didn’t have the time to explain.
“I have to take care of something right now. You’ll have to come with me.”
He snatched her arm and dragged her to the door.
“Hey, I’m coming, I’m coming. There’s no need to be brutal.”
Instantly, he released her arm. In his haste, he hadn’t realized how roughly he’d grabbed her. “We have no time.”
He shot out the door, Portia following on his heels. Luckily, he’d come with his Hummer today since he’d planned on seeing Samson toward the end of his shift. Since Samson lived clear across town, he’d decided not to waste time by walking. He was glad now that the car was parked right in the driveway.
He jumped in. A moment later, Portia entered through the passenger door, and he gunned the engine, shooting out of the driveway and down the hill seconds later.
The Hummer was built like a tank in more ways than one. Zane had only just recently had the windows coated with specially designed UV protection Thomas had invented. They, in effect, turned the car into a blackout van that a vampire could drive during daylight. No harmful rays of the sun could penetrate the windows. From the outside, the windows looked no different than the tinted windows of any SUV.