For a second, Dawn thought she was joking. But then she remembered that Breisi wasn’t much for humor.
“Believe me,” the other woman added when she saw the look on Dawn’s face, “Kiko would kill us if we hung around fawning over him. He’s got an ego, to be sure, but he’s also dedicated to this job and would want us out there taking care of it. The boss is sending over a Friend to look after him while we—”
“What?” Dawn said it with such rancor that the girl across from them grabbed her mother’s hand and held it to her ear.
Even over the hubbub of the waiting room, Dawn had been too shrill. She lowered her tone. “Are we going to run around town chasing Robby? Why? We know from Jonah’s buddies that they haven’t seen vampires around the Pennybakers’ tonight, so Robby probably cut his losses and went into hiding. Maybe that’s why he left me intact—he doesn’t want more trouble.”
“Klara Monaghan gave us a list that we still need to cover. This isn’t over yet.”
Wasn’t it? With resurrected agony, Dawn remembered what Kiko had looked like at Bava: a pile of flesh and clothing; a bad imitation of the vital guy she’d come to know.
Breisi decided to get even more maternal, resting a cupped hand on the back of Dawn’s head. “We’ve made headway. Think of what the coroner’s office told me.”
Sure, okay. They’d already known that Klara had bled out from her injuries, but now they’d also been informed that the damage to her throat had been caused by human teeth—not fangs. They’d also discovered that there hadn’t been a case similar to this in L.A. County for the last fifty years.
So was Klara’s death the work of a weirdo, not a vamp? Did that mean Robby wasn’t even a suspect?
Come to think of it, Dawn hadn’t even questioned him about it. Hell, she’d been busy with a few other things at the time.
And there was more than that to worry about. Was it possible that the people at the coroner’s office were lying when they said that the culprit had been human? Were they trying to cover up a case that would cause the public to get hysterical about monsters in their midst?
Dawn had asked Breisi this earlier, after the initial urgency for Kiko had abated, but the older woman thought the coroner’s office was on the up-and-up. After all, she’d seen the autopsy reports and had gotten a peek at Klara’s body, herself. There was nothing obvious indicating subterfuge.
So the killer was human, Breisi insisted. And she was betting the DNA results would confirm that.
A nurse, dressed in scrubs and with her dark hair slung back in a high ponytail, bustled over to inform them that Kiko would be transferred within the next half hour. They thanked the woman as she took off toward the administration desk.
“There shouldn’t be any more for us to handle. The boss has taken care of all the paperwork that will keep anyone from investigating Kiko’s injuries.”
Dawn got up. “When’s Jonah coming to see Kik?”
“He’s not. He’s a shut-in.”
“He can’t come out,” Dawn asked, “even for Kiko?”
“As I said, Kik will have no problem with that. The boss has always told us that he’ll go outside when it’s absolutely necessary; not before. That’s why he employs us—we do what he can’t beyond the walls of his home right now.”
The term echoed in Dawn’s head. A shut-in. It almost gave some humanity to the voice Dawn had gotten to know on such a superficial level.
Superficial versus…intimate.
Out of nowhere, Matt Lonigan’s kiss—the warm, sentimental simplicity of it—came back to her, and she touched her lips. She’d left a message for him earlier, as well as one for Jacqueline Ashley, who’d also called. In her return messages, she’d told them both where she was at, what her new phone number was, and that she would to get back to them later.
And, ironically, there’d also been a summons from a female stunt coordinator who was wondering what Dawn was up to. But she hadn’t had time to return that one yet.
Shouldn’t she be dancing around like a fool at the contact? Dawn sighed. The career that had seemed so all-important this afternoon was nothing compared to what was going on now. All the same, no matter what time it was, she should leave a message with the coordinator out of professional courtesy. Who knew when she’d have another chance.
“I’ve got to make a quick call outside,” Dawn said. “Too noisy in here.”
“I’m running to the girls’ room.” Breisi got out of her chair. “Keep your gun handy and stay by the doors, around people. I’ll be out soon.”
With her good hand, Dawn patted her jacket pocket, where she’d transferred her piece, then headed toward the doors, dodging and not even glancing up at a man who was on his way in. He said something, but she kept right on moving.
Then, finding a spot at the side of the building, near a couple of paramedics who were taking a cigarette break, Dawn awkwardly got the gun out. When she realized she had no other choice but to hold it with the same hand as the phone, she crouched, setting the weapon near her shoe, hidden from the workers. Then she extracted the encrypted phone from her jeans pocket, tried to dial it. But her left fingers weren’t as dexterous as her right, and she couldn’t manage the easy task.
Frustrated, she made another attempt at dialing, failed. She ground her teeth together as her right side blazed with growing awareness of its injuries.
“God-damnit.”
“Need help?”
She glanced up to find Lonigan leaning against the wall, dressed in a long leather jacket. His gaze was bright, his body alert, as if he was the one who was caffeinated. And maybe he was. It seemed to come with the territory—along with the pain.
“I was just going in as you were coming out,” he said. A shadow covered half of his pugilistic features. “Been standing here waiting for you to recognize me.”
“I wasn’t looking. You know, Matt, you’re going to scare the life out of me with all your sneaking around.”
She stowed her phone but kept the gun out, nestling it under the right side of her jacket as she stood, then turned to him. To his eyes, she probably seemed to be warding off the cold, one hand hugging the other side of her waist.
“An associate was monitoring the scanner,” he said, his tone making it clear he wasn’t giving a lot of credence to whatever he was about to say. “She heard a strange story: that a midget had been messing around at Bava—practicing stunts with his friend in a supply room?—and had fallen from a table. Funny how Bava just happens to be a rumored location for vampires. I remembered your partner, tried to get a hold of you to make sure, but then started worrying that you’d gotten hurt, too.”
Brushing a gaze over her cheek, her arm and shoulder, he took a step away from the wall. Dawn’s flesh came alive, but she quelled her excitement, thinking that this couldn’t be filed under her “save the world” reason for running out on Kiko.
With an unreadable look, Matt redirected his footsteps away from her, so that he turned a corner, darkness closing over him as he disappeared around the other side of the building.
What was up with him? Dawn gripped her revolver, glancing at the hospital’s exit. She’d keep her eye out for Breisi.
Then she followed.
When she went around the corner, she stopped abruptly, almost running into him. He’d rested his body against the wall and underneath a golden light, back stiff, as if there was something bracing his spine. He had a strange electric air about him, a secretive smile that made her wonder why he was so…ecstatic wasn’t exactly the word—too optimistic. But then again, she couldn’t define Lonigan for nothin’.
“You looking for a private conversation or something?” she asked, a tiny pulse wavering in her neck.
“I know what did this to your partner.”
That beating in her neck seemed to stop.
She advanced a few inches, but stayed near the corner and the safety of the exit doors. “How do you know?”
“I just do.” Matt looked a
t her cheek again, and a muscle started to twitch by his jaw. He seemed as angry as she was.
Dawn responded to their shared, heightened emotion, grabbing at it like it was an outcropping on the face of a cliff, one that would hold her up and take her to another level where she could see a little more clearly.
“He did this to you,” he said, his voice gravelly as he moved a hand toward the bandage that covered her stitches.
Was he remembering what “happened” to his parents?
Right. Before he could lay a hand on her, she lifted her chin, avoiding him. He hesitated, the same look in his eyes that she’d seen back at the Cat’s Paw—the indecision, the battle for control.
But then, in spite of her blow-off, he made his choice. He reached out, tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.
Damn him and his insistence on being a nice guy. His politeness made her the loser in their control game.
Easily giving in, she shuddered, rubbing her cheek against the heel of his palm.
But…Kiko. She shouldn’t be out here fooling around with Matt while her friend was suffering. Slut.
She backed away, leaving him miffed. Leaving her a pained mess as her right side began to thump under the ice packs.
“I’ve been wondering, Matt. I looked into your parents. Puttered around the Internet, tapped into databases to read more about it. But…weird. The only match I found was in a comic book story.”
His brows came together, but then he laughed, the sound short and knowing.
“You think this is funny, Bruce Wayne?”
“You don’t believe me.”
“You’re making it hard.”
“Did you ever stop to think that I might’ve changed my name after the murders?”
Hope flinted against her doubts.
He reclined against the wall. “Did you ever stop to think that I didn’t want to hear my given name again? Hell, Dawn. Just do another search, but use the name ‘Destry’ this time.”
Before her remorse fully hit, Matt gave her a yearning glance, as if her suspicions didn’t mean squat. But maybe this went along with his entire “question what’s going on” thing. Maybe that’s why he was being so accepting of her skepticism—because he’d encouraged it in the first place.
He’d placed his fingertips on her jawline, turning her bandaged cheek toward him. His breath warmed her, ruffling her hair as he tenderly inspected her.
“It’s nothing I won’t live through,” Dawn said.
“I want to kill this thing. Where did it go afterward?”
“Not sure yet, Matt. Do you have any ideas?”
“No.” Now he was stroking her temple with his other hand, running the pads of his fingers over her skin, as if mapping her journeys through all the bruises and cuts that had come and gone. He floated his fingers over her long earring, pausing. Then her lips.
Needing something to help keep her standing, she reached out to grab his arm with her left hand, but the gun was in it.
“You can put that away when you’re around me,” he whispered.
He unthreaded her fingers from around the weapon, slid the metal against her waist as he stored it in her jacket pocket.
The strum of fantasy played her, pulsating low and deep. After seeing Kiko, she needed a human touch, the reassurance that life was still available. That’s why Matt’s proximity was pulling her in, making her feel, even for a second, that she didn’t need to worry about a thing.
“I’m going to make sure you never get hurt again, Dawn,” he said. “Can you trust me to do that?”
She wanted to say yes, but Dawn wasn’t built that way. All her life she’d depended on herself and on her talent for mothering Frank. Trust in anything else wasn’t easy.
“And why should I trust you and not Limpet?” she asked.
“Because you already don’t trust Limpet.”
Somewhere, an ambulance wailed, headed for the ER. It brought Kiko back to her full-force. She shuddered.
In response, Matt kissed her forehead. As he brushed his lips to her brow, she felt the heat of his smooth chin on her mouth, smelled the warm, spiced scent of him. He kissed his way down her nose, then her uninjured cheek, to her lips. Dawn bunched his shirt in her left hand, pressing closer.
Blood churned in her lower belly, urging her to force him against the wall and increase the tempo of their interaction. But this man didn’t respond to that—she’d tried shortcuts to intimacy before and had come up empty with him.
But what else could she do? There was too much emotion here to deal with. How could she plug up all the holes in her soul with something she didn’t know how to manipulate?
As he kissed her, a low sound of confusion stuck in her throat. But she was still lured, sucking his lips against hers, long and slow pulls of longing. He was being careful not to hurt her, edging his fingertips along her cheek, her neck. There, he traced the center of her throat, the sensitive line that dipped to the cove between her collarbones. His fingers traveled to a vein, stroking her as if it could be as damp and primed as the swollen flesh between her legs.
“I really don’t know what to do about you,” he said between kisses.
“Tell me about it.” Breathless, she rested her forehead against his jaw as he ran a hand up and down her back. Soothing; the cure for her ills. “You’re throwing me into a tailspin here.”
The siren was getting closer. Kiko.
What the hell was she doing?
Reluctantly, she inched away, holding up her hands and turning around. “It’s time for me to get out of here.”
“Dawn.”
The timbre of his voice jolted her with dark familiarity.
Thrown for a loop, she rounded on him, finding that his intensity level had ratcheted to the extreme. His body was as tense as rope strung between a dangling victim and the savior who was trying to pull him back to safety. His eyes had gone wide, hunter-hot.
Now this was the type of man she understood. Dangerous. Animal desire. They were on her terms now.
With two long steps she went back to him, using her good arm to pin him against the wall. She rocked her body against his, grinding herself against his groin, biting at his neck in the sheer desperation to get Kiko’s pain…Frank’s pain…herownpain out of her mind.
“Dawn,” he said again, ragged and excited.
“I came to you,” she said, dragging her lower teeth against his throat. “Just like you wanted—willing and ready.”
He tasted so good; warm against her tongue, with that tinge of spice…
When he buried a hand in her hair, she knew she had him. As the siren filled her ears from around the corner—a place of refuge and safety only a few steps away—she bit into him, making him grunt and dig his fingers into both of her arms. As she gasped, he lifted his hands in apology for getting carried away.
But she didn’t care. She bolted him against the wall with the plane of her left arm, then slipped that hand toward his back to arch him against her. Her bent cravings were proof that he really was like all the other men she’d been with—conquerable, easy to leave behind.
But then her fingers found something unexpected at his spine, something that felt like a blade in a sheath.
Whip quick, he grabbed her hand, then glared at her, his blue eyes full of wrath.
“That’s enough,” he said.
At his rejection, she didn’t feel anything. She’d already closed herself off from giving a crap. That’s how prepared for his damned chivalry she was.
“You get a rise out of taunting me?” she asked. “What was back there, Matt? What’s—”
As she reached for his spine, he maneuvered out of position. Within a few breaths, he’d regained the composure of the gentleman she’d come to expect…and resent.
The struggle of regret had fallen over his features, softening them, making him look like he’d gone thirteen rounds and lost in the end.
“This isn’t the way I want it.” His laugh was serrated. “I don�
��t know—maybe I’m the only guy left on earth who needs something meaningful, but I’m not going to change. Instead, I’ll wait. And if I’m waiting into next week, next month, next year, I’ll do it.”
“You’re nuts. You’ve known me for, like, what, a couple of days? And—”
“I know you better than you can ever imagine.”
She froze. “What?”
Laughing dryly, he rested his hands on his hips. “I mean I’ve had access to files, Dawn. I’ve done surveillance on you, watched your films, talked to people you’ve known. And, bit by bit, I…I liked what I found.”
Another ambulance siren shot through the night with red panic. Dawn felt the wail in her veins.
“That sounds bad,” Matt said, shaking his head in embarrassment. “Damn, the last thing I want to do is scare you.”
Was she scared? Or was he truly the most dangerous man she’d ever known?
The vibration of her phone shook her.
Thankful for the interruption, she answered it, turning her back on him, wanting to talk about this now while not really wanting to.
“Hello?”
“Where are you? Are you okay?” It was Breisi.
“I’m just outside the exit.” As Dawn walked into view again, she looked over her shoulder, preparing to make her apologies to Matt.
But he wasn’t there. Gone. Pffft.
Scanning around and finding no sign of the PI, Dawn turned toward the entrance where Breisi was standing.
She tucked away her phone, hands shaking. Where had he gone? Now that he’d made that confession, it seemed more important than ever to keep tabs on him. She wasn’t sure if that was because he’d unsettled her or turned her on. God, she was a sick pup. Really.
Jerking her head toward the parking lot, Breisi said, “Let’s go.”
“Where?”
She was already heading for the car. “Robby came home.”
Twenty-Five
Another Rising
At 3:15am Pacific Time, an Internet broadcast aired to an audience of millions. TV executives would have died for numbers like that.
But Tamsin Greene actuallydid.
Worldwide, screens revealed the beautiful, ultra-famous woman who had recorded her first CD at age fifteen. Her voice had been hailed by critics and fans alike, her star shooting into the night sky so rapidly that films had followed, as had champagne-filled hot tubs, Grammy and MTV Video Music Awards, and a thousand fan sites devoted to her majesty.
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