The call ended, and Boaz found plenty of places to look that weren’t at me.
Cass, of course, waded into the breach. “Honey?”
“Jessica Honeywell.”
“And you two were an item?”
“For about a week, a few years back.”
“And you trust this fling to handle Addie like a dirty little secret?”
Boaz looked ready to spit nails at her tone, but he held his temper in check despite her poking at him.
“Honey is good people,” he said. “She’s also the lead on this case. We sell her on Addie’s innocence, and the sentinels will back off. They might take a harder look at you—hell, even me—in light of these new points of connection, but I can take it. Can you?”
Anger was an emotion Cass respected. It was honest, she always said. Not always deserved, but still.
“Selling Addie’s innocence?” Cass wet her lips, diffusing the tension. “That sounds downright lascivious.”
“That’s…not what I said.” Boaz cast her a dry glance, willing to play along. “Bad vampire.”
Maybe they wouldn’t kill each other after all. It would definitely make my life simpler if they got along.
“You have no idea,” she purred, reeling herself in as she checked her phone. “Oh, no.”
Her pallor set my gut roiling, and I leaned closer. “What’s wrong?”
“If the pattern holds, the killer has chosen his next victim.”
“Who?” Boaz demanded, rising from his chair. “We need to move while the lead’s fresh.”
“Ari Willis,” she rasped. “Her mate, Demaryius, the clan master, texted me.”
“Cass?” I touched her arm. “What did he say?”
“She’s missing.”
And this close to dawn, there was nothing they could do about it.
Thirteen
Boaz had earned a reputation for haring off alone after leads, but Honey was still pissed when he cancelled their dusk meeting via text to avoid a confrontation. He, Cass, and Addie jumped in the Ferrari to hunt for Ari Willis as soon as the moon rose.
Much to his amusement, Addie had skipped the leather and gone casual in jeans and a tee with sneakers.
“Your friend Honey…” Cass caught his eye in the rearview mirror and wetted her lips. “She’s single?”
“Yes.” She wouldn’t have come on to him otherwise. “Fair warning, she’s straight.”
“Mmm.” Cass returned her attention to the road. “She sounds absolutely delicious.”
Addie had chosen to ride in the cramped backseat with him while Cass drove her matchbox-sized sports car. It didn’t have to mean anything, but it made his chest go tight when he glanced over at her. She was protecting him. He was the Elite sentinel, and she was worried he might get hurt going out on what amounted to a routine call for her and Cass.
Aside from Grier, no woman had ever worried about him or his ability to handle himself.
There were parallels there, yeah, and no. He wasn’t about to study them too hard. Not now.
That would come later, during the long days when his restless mind ought to be sleeping but couldn’t shut down. Guilt was a hell of a catalyst for insomnia, and he had been spending too much time watching sunrises lately.
“Gustav wants us at Third Saturday Market,” Addie said, her fingers sliding over a tablet’s screen.
“Ari Willis,” Cass said, “would rather die than be caught at some local arts and crafts fair.”
“Gustav is leaving me on read. I don’t know what he’s trying to tell us, but he’s not saying anything.”
“I ought to kick his hairy ass with my silver-tipped boot,” she snarled. “This is Ari.”
“You have a relationship with her?” He hesitated. “Her mate called you, not your boss, right?”
“Ari was a member of Cass’s clan until about three years ago,” Addie explained to Boaz. “She pledged to Clan Willis when she mated one of the founding members’ descendants.”
The direct connection to Clan Willis drew his attention. “Does she have a direct link to Twyla Thorne?”
“She babysat for Twyla. They were close. Close enough Ari often played bodyguard for Twyla when she was allowed out.” Addie pressed her lips together. “Ari will be devastated when she hears the news.”
The perp might have flubbed on Twyla’s state of undeath, or maybe not, but for him to go after Ari and not, say, Twyla’s parents was curious. It meant the kid had protected her parents while giving up Ari’s name, or that the perp asked specific questions that led to Twyla answering them with Ari’s name.
“She was a remarkable woman before Demaryius got his claws in her,” Cass said sadly. “Then she faded a bit, like a rose pressed between the pages of a book for safekeeping.”
“Cass and Ari dated.” Addie caught his eye. “For about a decade.”
The corner of Cass’s lips twitched in a fond smile that didn’t stick. “Social-climbing hussy.”
Boaz didn’t have to know Cass well to hear the strain in her voice as she tried to make light of her worry.
“I wasn’t opposed to being climbed, you understand.” Cass gave the windshield her full attention. “The social aspect is what split us apart. I came from nothing. I was used to being invisible. She came from a rich and influential human family. She was overlooked one too many times as a second daughter for her pride to bear it.” She shook her head. “She moved out one night while I was at work. The next time I heard from her, she was sending me an invitation to her mating ceremony.”
“I’m sorry, Cass.” Boaz dipped his chin. “We’ll do our best to find her and retrieve her safely.”
The vampire mashed her lips together and nodded, her attention hyper-focused on the road.
“You’re staring.” Addie kept her eyes on the screen. “Do I have a bat in the cave?”
“That’s disgusting.” Cass huffed from the front. “And an insult to vampires everywhere.”
“I don’t follow,” Boaz confessed. “What does that mean?”
“It’s a booger in your nose.” Addie rolled her eyes at Cass. “Even vampires have them, so get over it.”
“You’re breaking my brain.” Boaz chuckled. “I had this idea of how our lives would be, but this—you—are nothing like how I pictured.”
Lowering the tablet, she searched his face. “Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”
“Good.” He couldn’t hide his smile. “You’re fascinating as hell, Addie.”
A flush warmed her cheeks, and he almost brushed his fingertips across them, but he made a fist on his lap instead.
“We had good timing.” Addie turned her face toward the window. “The party is in full swing.”
“The harvest market,” Cass murmured with approval. “I had forgotten that was tonight.”
“There’s a harvest market?” Boaz glanced through the glass and whistled. “That’s impressive.”
More than anything, it reminded him of a fair, but there were craft vendors in addition to the games, rides, and abundance of food trucks and restaurant booths.
“Why did Gustav want us here?” Cass mused. “There are too many witnesses.”
“Humans are in the mix,” Addie warned him. “This is a fall thing. There’s usually a…” she squinted against the night then pointed out behind the farthest rows of stalls, “…bonfire.”
“The Saturday after Homecoming,” Cass explained. “The town parties all weekend.”
Addie shook her head. “How do you remember this stuff?”
“I always know where to find food when I’m snackish.” She bared her teeth. “Predator, remember?”
“I wish I hadn’t asked,” Addie muttered. “There was never going to be a good answer from you.”
“You two go in. Mingle. Couples are less conspicuous.” Cass turned into the lot and found a parking spot far enough away to prevent us from getting blocked in. “Figure out why Gustav wanted us here.”
“What will yo
u be doing?” Addie leaned forward. “You can’t blend dressed like that.”
Boaz was starting to think every garment in Cass’s closet was leather, skintight, and missing a few yards of fabric.
“Don’t fret.” Cass awarded her a feline smile. “I have plenty to keep me occupied.”
“Okay.” Addie got out then turned back to him. “Get moving.” She snapped her fingers. “I smell funnel cakes.”
Boaz let himself out his door, breathed in the night air perfumed with fried foods and grilled meats, and his stomach rumbled in response. “You come to these often?”
“Uh, no. I avoid them like the plague.” She shrugged. “Unless I really, really need a funnel cake.”
“Does that happen a lot?”
“More than I would like to admit.” She patted her stomach. “They’re so doughy and sugary and greasy. I shouldn’t want them, I know they’re bad for me, but how can I resist?”
“Resistance is overrated.” He cut her a look. “Eat the funnel cake.”
“I suppose I could always start dieting for the wedding after tonight.”
“I hate to point out the obvious,” he drawled, “but your dress will be white, right?”
“It’s tradition,” she agreed, sounding amused. “So probably.”
“Then I don’t see the problem. Let’s have funnel cake at the wedding. White dress, white sugar. Who will ever know?”
Surprised laughter shot out of her. “I like how you think.”
“I like you, Addie. Let’s try to keep it real between us, okay?”
“Done.” She flashed him a bright smile. “Real sounds good.”
Are you going to tell her about Grier?
Are you going to explain why your heart’s currently unavailable?
Are you going to be honest to pay her back for coming clean with you?
Once he broke the news of his engagement to Grier, he had no reason to tell Addie about her. Grier would cut him out of her heart, out of her life. That was the right thing for her to do, the smart thing. She deserved better. She always had, and he had been a fool to think he could live up to her expectations.
Things with Addie were good. Far better than he had any right to expect. He didn’t want to start their relationship with the specter of Grier between them. Not when she was already haunting him.
Bawk. Bawk. Bawk.
Hell, yes, he was a chicken.
Give him a bucket of paint and a brush, and he would swipe the yellow line down his own back.
“How do you feel about turkey legs and roasted corn on a stick for dinner?” Addie cut through the crowd, nodding here and there to folks she knew. “That will keep us mobile while we perform our recon.”
“I am the least picky eater you’re ever going to find. You choose. Whatever you want. My treat.” Her smile faltered, and he could have kicked himself. “That’s not a dig at your financial situation.”
“I know.” She kept walking. “I’m sensitive about it, so I tend to read more into things than is there.”
“I’ll let you buy me dinner, if you prefer.”
Addie glanced over at him then, and her smile was gorgeous. “I’d like that.”
They approached one of the food trucks and got in line behind a tense couple. Boaz didn’t expect much in the way of gossip, but there were always those among the preternatural set who didn’t care who overheard what. They figured, rightly, humans didn’t see what they didn’t want to see or hear what they didn’t want to hear. Out of context, most of their conversations came across as normal-ish.
The prickle of energy dancing across his skin informed him they were vampires, which perked his ears.
“We moved here to get away from danger,” a woman was saying. “This place is the opposite of safe.”
“The past few years have been quiet,” the man argued. “This too shall pass.”
“The children…” She stared off in the distance. “We’re taking a risk by bringing them here.”
“That’s why we’re going to stay, embarrass them in front of their friends, and make sure they come home safe.” He took her hand. “Peace, Gertie. Our little ones are protected.”
“Twyla’s parents thought so too,” she said softly, fear bright in her eyes.
The man pulled her into his arms, and they stayed like that until it was their turn to order.
“Clan Willis,” Addie said when they were out of hearing range. “I recognize them.”
“How many fosters do they have?”
“The numbers are a closely guarded secret, but they adopt more often than most clans.”
“I wonder why that is.”
Adoption of human children wasn’t a crime, but some of the things vampires got up to with the ones they collected kept him up at night after working particularly disturbing cases.
“Cass says it has to do with how Ari had three younger sisters. There was an older sister too, but she married poor, for love, and had three kids of her own. She couldn’t afford more mouths to feed, so Ari and the others were put into different orphanages. Only two of the girls got adopted. Ari and the next eldest. They were then both sold by their adoptive parents to different brothels.” Addie’s lips thinned. “Ari never found their other sisters. She doesn’t know what happened to them. So, when she became the master’s wife, she talked him into encouraging other vampires in their clan to adopt siblings to keep them together.”
“That’s a beautiful story, if it’s true.”
“We keep an eye on them.” Addie rubbed her arms. “I want to believe there are good and decent people out there who want to help children…”
“…but selflessness is often a mask for selfishness,” he finished for her. “Those kids are lucky to have you watching over them.”
A ripple moved through the crowd, an unconscious parting of the sea of humans, and chills blasted up Boaz’s spine as four vampires prowled the stalls filled with arts and crafts.
“Boaz Pritchard,” Jean Patel barked. “What are you doing in Bumfuck, Florida?”
Jean Patel, of Clan Patel, was not the sort of vampire anyone with an ounce of common sense wanted to meet in a dark alley. He was a bruiser with a vigilante strike a mile wide, a wet works man for any clan who could afford his fees.
“Patel.” Boaz didn’t smile. “The same as you, I imagine.”
Very few vampires hunted their own, but Patel gathered them to him. They were a band of rogues masquerading as a clan in order to keep the Society and the Undead Coalition, the ruling body for vampires, out of their business.
“You know him?” Addie snarled under her breath. “Why didn’t you mention that?”
“We’ve met,” Boaz admitted. “I haven’t seen him in years.”
“Next time,” she grumbled, “I expect a heads-up.”
He met a lot of unsavory characters in his line of work, and the events surrounding those meetings were often confidential. There was no guarantee he could tell her all of what he knew under any given circumstances. That included who he knew.
The nature of her job must require similar restrictions. They would have to sit down after this and come up with a plan for what was and wasn’t fair game. It would require them both to be willing to trust, which wouldn’t come easy for either of them.
This relationship stuff was not for the fainthearted. No wonder he had avoided it for so long.
“I came to visit my fiancée.” Boaz shook Patel’s hand. “What brings you to town?”
“This isn’t a town. This is a speedbump between Jacksonville and Gainesville that someone decided to decorate with houses.” He cut his gaze toward Addie then shook his head. “Figures you would find your ideal woman out here in the sticks. You had to search every hole in the ground to find someone who hasn’t heard about your reputation.”
The dig shouldn’t have hurt. Not when it was partly the truth. But it did.
“Oh, I’ve heard the gossip.” Addie took Boaz’s hand in her much smaller one. “I ju
st don’t care.”
Boaz whipped his head toward her, his palm slick with sweat as he wondered what gossip she had heard, if Grier’s name had been mentioned, how he was going to fix this, a million other things, but Patel had much the same reaction. Except in his case, it was as if he were surprised to remember Addie was there, let alone that she would dare speak to him.
“You’re pretty enough.” Patel assessed her with a cold sweep of his gaze. “You don’t have much sense if you don’t care about the reputation of the man you’re going to marry. Love may be blind, but you can’t afford to be. Unless you’re rich and powerful. No offense, but you don’t strike me as either.”
“Are you here for a purpose,” Boaz cut in, his jaw grinding at the insult, “or are you just in town to dispense romantic advice?”
“Work.” Patel dismissed Addie, and Boaz breathed easier for it. He had labeled her as chattel and dismissed her as being of any importance, let alone his competition. “You know how it is.” His canines were too defined. “I go where I’m needed.” He glanced at his phone, and his smile widened. “Looks like right now I’m needed to pursue a fresh lead.” He winked at Addie. “See you around.”
“Yeah.” Boaz watched him go. “I’ve got a feeling you will.”
Patel wasn’t a complication Boaz welcomed, but no one else had managed to catch the killer. Maybe Patel would be good for something for once in his life.
“Well,” Addie said, “now we know what Gustav wanted us to see.”
“Is Patel a threat to you?”
“Gustav would have told Patel we were on the job. This was his way of telling us about Patel. We have the upper hand now, because I’ll recognize Patel if I see him again, but he doesn’t know who I am yet.”
“Why would he do that?” Boaz rumbled. “That paints a target on your backs.”
Rival bounty hunters had been known to get aggressive toward their competition when the stakes were high.
“Gustav believes a little competition is good for the soul,” she said dryly. “He doesn’t play favorites. He does, however, hedge his bets.”
“How does he win if Patel collects the bounty?” Boaz wondered. “Wouldn’t Patel get that to split with his team?”
The Redemption of Boaz Pritchard Page 10