There'll be Hell to Pay (Hellcat Series Book 6) by Sharon Hannaford Page B

Murphy is waitin’ fur us in th’ war room,” Fergus told
them.
    Gabi changed
direction and headed down a secondary corridor towards the
windowless room in the heart of the mansion. SID’s resident
computer tamer, Murphy, had been co-leader of the group of Vampire
Hunters who had kidnapped Adriana; they had called themselves the
Kresniks. They’d been mind-fucked into what they thought was their
true calling by a Vampire working for the Decuria, in an attempt to
destabilise the City and send Julius running for help. Both Murphy,
who’d gone by the handle of Darkstalker, and his co-leader, Lady
Helsing, had been underhandedly fed Vampire blood, making it
impossible to wipe their memories of all things supernatural. While
most in the Community considered the operation to expose the
Kresniks and free Adriana a success, Gabi was intensely
disappointed that Julius hadn’t been able to extract any
information from the Lieutenant, the Vampire responsible for all
the trouble. He’d been killed by a highly skilled sniper while
Julius was interrogating him. Gabi was also very concerned by how
close Julius had come to losing his own life. She was fully aware
of how easily the sniper could’ve aimed for Julius instead of the
Lieutenant.
    Faced with the
option of working for Julius or being relocated to some remote part
of Alaska, the two ex-leaders of the Kresniks had wisely chosen to
take up employment with the Master of the City. Gabi barely slowed
as she threw open a door and strode into the large, but mostly
airless room they’d dubbed the war room. A dark figure in a
high-back leather executive’s chair spun towards them, his face
silhouetted against the bank of computer screens behind him.
Darkstalker, real name David Murphy, had tried to get them to call
him David, but the team had chosen Murphy instead—David just didn’t
fit the athletic, tattooed, pierced and head-shaved parkour
enthusiast. While his little Vampire Hunting group had enlisted the
services of a computer and electronics expert who called himself
Mastermind, Murphy had been the real black hat in the group. He
preferred the physical stuff—running, jumping and climbing walls
like Spider-Man—but had redirected his attention back to the
keyboard to become a solid and reliable member of the Dhampir
Squad.
    “ You’ve been filled in?” Gabi asked him, and he nodded, rising
from the chair to take his empty coffee mug to the small
well-stocked coffee station in one corner of the room.
    “ Trish sent me everything she has. You want some?” He raised
his coffee mug towards Gabi, and she was relieved that he was
treating the issue like any other case instead of looking at her
with sympathy and wariness.
    She nodded and
watched silently as he set to work pouring two cups from the coffee
maker. In the brighter light at the coffee station, one of the
characters inked onto the side of his neck seemed to leer at her.
Less than twenty percent of his skin was free of tattoo ink, he
sported more piercings than the average college intake put
together, thick scars scored his arms from his early years of drug
abuse and self-mutilation, and his particular brand of expertise
had proved indispensable on more than one case. When seeking the
dark and the dangerous, you didn’t ask the clean and upright
citizens of the world where to look, you asked those living in the
shadows themselves. Murphy was a consummate professional at gaining
the trust of underground groups in towns and cities across the
globe; he’d garnered vital information on almost every case they’d
pursued so far.
    “ We’re working backwards, trying to trace which direction the
van came in from,” he told her, handing over a steaming
mug.
    Gabi accepted
it gratefully and wrapped unusually cold fingers around the warm
ceramic. Razor pressed more firmly against her right leg, his
fervent purr reassuring. Julius and Alexander took seats at the
long narrow table, and Fergus crossed his arms over his