I can only stare at him, scared to hear how this story ends.
“I found someone,” he murmurs. “A man. Homeless. Alone. He was very ill, barely breathing. Barely conscious. I could sense he didn’t have much life left. It would have been merciful to take him.”
“What happened?” I whisper.
He looks up at me. “I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t make myself slit his throat. I just… I didn’t have it in me anymore. So I…” He snorts. “I called 911. Got him to a hospital.”
“Did he live?”
“Christ, I don’t know.” He sighs. “Probably not. He was really, really sick. But that’s not the point.” He shakes his head. “I swore I’d never do it again. Never kill anyone again. Never. The only reason I almost broke that promise was because of you.”
I don’t know what to say.
“When I realized that you were dating Chas, I was sick over it,” he says. “Really sick. I couldn’t eat, I couldn’t sleep… all I could think about was how to get you away from him.”
“Because you like the way I smell,” I mutter.
“If you think that’s all I like about you, you’re out of your mind.” He looks at me in a way that makes my heart speeds up. I’d almost forgotten how I used to feel about him—how I almost told him I was in love with him. “I didn’t tell you this, but there was a girl that I loved when I was seventeen. She was… I was going to marry her.”
I stare at him. “Marry her?”
He shrugs sheepishly. “We got married young back then. In any case, it never happened because that asshole Chas killed her. He slit her throat just like he did to your friend. The only way I was able to keep going after that was telling myself I’d eventually stop him—but of course, I didn’t. I couldn’t. And I knew that if I ever felt that way about anyone again, her life would be in danger—that he’d want her too and try to take her from me. So I never let myself fall in love.” He takes another deep breath. “Until I met you.”
“Jamie,” I murmur.
“You don’t have to say anything back,” he says. “I don’t expect anything from you, Brooke. Especially after… well, all this. I know what you must think of me. I just…” His eyes grow glassy. “I just wanted you to know that if he had gotten to you yesterday, I would never have gotten over it. I… I’m not even sure I could have gone on.”
I don’t say anything. I’m not sure what to say.
“So you’ll let me pick you up today?” he asks.
I nod. “Five o’clock.”
“You got it.” His brows bunch together. “And I’m going to buy some train tickets for us, okay?”
I nod. “Okay.”
I get out of the car and wave to Jamie, but he doesn’t budge. He just motions to me to keep walking. And he doesn’t drive away until I’m safely inside the building.
Chapter 32: Brooke
I shouldn’t be surprised to find Detective Bateman waiting for me when I walk into work. I spot him in the waiting area and he rises to his feet when he sees me. He has a good poker face, but I can see the relief in his eyes. He strides up to the front desk.
“I’ve been trying to reach you since yesterday,” he tells me.
“Yes,” I say. “I got your message.”
“Can we talk in a private room?” he asks me.
Obviously, I can’t say no. But at the same time, I don’t know how to explain the events of the last twelve hours to a police officer. My boyfriend tried to slit my throat and drink my blood. Then my neighbor, who used to be one of best friends, saved me by promising to kill me. And I didn’t call the police through any of this.
Yeah, it doesn’t sound believable to me either.
“Of course,” I say to the detective.
He follows me to the room that I’ll be using to draw blood. I can’t help but think what this room must smell like to someone like Hunter or Jamie. They’d probably be in heaven. But to me, it just smells like antiseptic.
Bateman sits in the chair reserved for patients, and I have to nearly sit on my hands to keep from grabbing a tourniquet to wrap around his muscular biceps. After I’ve settled down in my own chair, he clears his throat loudly.
“You didn’t call me back,” he notes.
“I know,” I say. “It’s been… a rough night.”
“When I couldn’t reach you,” he says, “I went to your apartment. Knocked on the door, but there was no answer.”
“Yeah,” I say. “I wasn’t there.”
“I realize that.”
We stare at each other for a moment.
“Were you with Hunter Stone?” he asks me.
I shake my head no. “We had… an argument last night. He was acting creepy so I… um, broke up with him.”
Apparently, I’m not telling the detective about what Hunter did to me and I’m not sure why. I want Hunter thrown in jail—of course I do. But I have this feeling Bateman is not capable of bringing a man like Hunter to justice. No ordinary policeman is capable of catching him. And I’m worried that anything truthful I say will put Jamie at risk.
I don’t want to do that.
“Here’s the deal.” Bateman leans forward in his chair. “We went to the address you gave us for Stone. Nobody was there. Not just that, but we talked to his doorman and he said Stone’s been subletting the apartment and only shows up about two times a month, if that.”
“You’re kidding,” I murmur.
“I’m not,” he says. “Not just that, but I checked into the person he’s subletting from. The guy’s been missing for the last three months.”
More food for Hunter, it sounds like.
“He’s an investment banker, like I told you,” I say. “Maybe you could find him that way.”
He shakes his head. “I checked into all the companies in the city. He doesn’t work for any of them. Are you sure he’s an investment banker?”
“I…” I think back to the first day I met Hunter, how he told me he was an i-banker and I just believed him. He’d been in a meeting at that sports bar though. I saw him having a meeting with some other people.
Or did I?
I remember how he pointed out those men in business suits to me, but I never actually saw him with them. Maybe he hadn’t been in a meeting after all. Maybe he just pointed those men out to me to make me trust him.
“We’re doing everything we can to find this guy,” Bateman says. “But he’s not so easy to find. Honestly, I was certain you were going to end up missing after I didn’t hear from you last night.”
“Sorry to worry you.”
He smiles thinly. “Don’t apologize—help me find him. Do you have any photos?”
“Photos?”
He shrugs. “Well, you were dating him. Did you take a picture of him at any point? Like, with your phone?”
I shake my head no. I never took a photo of Hunter. I suggested it to him once when we were walking around, and he wouldn’t let me. And now I wonder… could I have actually photographed him? Aren’t vampires invisible in mirrors and photographs?
But no. I’ve got photos of Jamie in my phone—that can’t be true. Hunter probably just tries to avoid being photographed so he’s less likely to be caught.
Bateman leans back in the chair and lets out a sigh. “Okay, well, we’re doing our best to find him. In the meantime, I’m going to put an officer outside your building, just in case he comes by.”
“You don’t have to do that,” I say.
Jamie will keep me safe. Suddenly, I feel certain of it.
“I’m not doing it as a personal favor,” he says. “We’re trying to find a murderer.”
“Right. Of course.”
But I know that the police force won’t catch Hunter. He’s been evading them for over a hundred years. He’ll get away with this murder the same way he’s gotten away with thousands of others. Like Jamie said, there’s nothing we can do.
Chapter 33: Brooke
When I get out of work at ten minutes past five, Jam
ie’s Civic is waiting for me at the curb in front of the lab. I sprint over to the car and quickly climb inside. “Let’s go,” I tell him. “They honk at you like crazy if you pull over here.”
“Yeah, I figured that out,” he mutters. “I’ve been circling the block for fifteen minutes.”
“Sorry.”
“It’s okay.” He hesitates. “Did you notice him watching you?”
I frown. “How would I know?”
“Sometimes you can feel it.” He shudders. “It’s like this pins and needles sensation on the back of your neck. But it’s only if he wants you to feel it.”
I remember how I had that sensation of being watched when I was at the park where Sydney was killed. And then again at her funeral. And then, that night in my apartment, when I felt someone was in my closet.
Oh my God, was Hunter waiting in my closet?
I want to ask Jamie about it, but I’m scared to hear the answer. If Hunter really had been in my closet that night, it means he would have killed me right then and there. I can’t even contemplate that.
I squeeze my knees nervously. I don’t know what Jamie has planned for us tonight, other than the fact that it involves train tickets. I talked to my boss about a month-long leave—sudden death in the family, I said. He was not thrilled, but I’ve been working with him for a long time, and he was understanding. I’m free to disappear now.
Jamie starts driving in the direction of our building, which surprises me. “I thought we were going to the train station?”
He looks at me in surprise. “Yeah. Well, I couldn’t get tickets for until later tonight. And anyway, I can’t park at Penn Station. We’ll grab a cab.”
“Oh.” I let him drive for another minute. “Hey, we should probably get some food. Like, dinner.”
He looks at me in surprise. “You mean together?”
I shrug. “Well, we have to eat.”
“Uh, sure. Of course.” He nods at the windshield. “Just tell me where you want to go.”
“How about…” I study his profile. “There’s that steakhouse on Thirtieth Street. Prices are pretty reasonable.”
“Okay,” he says slowly, as if he’s not sure it’s a trap. “Let’s do it.”
The closest accessible parking spot is still over a block away from the restaurant. He grabs his cane from the back seat, and I watch him as he navigates the uneven pavement. I always took Jamie’s difficulty walking as a given—something he had no control over. But now I realize that if he wanted, he could walk normal again.
All he’d have to do would be to kill someone and drink their blood.
He stumbles slightly on a crack in the pavement, but catches himself like he usually does. I frown at him. “Why did you stop killing people?”
He lifts his blue eyes to look at me. “Huh?”
“You know,” I mumble. “It must have been hard to stop when you knew it would mean you’d need the cane all the time… and obviously, you have these cravings…”
“It was hard to take people’s lives. Really hard, even when they were already dying.” He furrows his brow. “It was never hard to stop.”
“Hunter doesn’t have a problem with it.”
“Right,” he says. “He’s a sociopath. I’m not.”
“Sorry.” I look away from him. “I’m just trying to… to understand. Because it seems like you should be the same as him.”
Jamie stops walking. His shoulders sag. “I know,” he says. “When I first noticed my cravings, I thought… well, I assumed I’d be like him. And the others—my other brothers and cousins and… my father. I don’t know why I didn’t end up like him.”
“Do you think Hunter was ever… normal?” I ask him.
He raises his eyebrows at me. “Normal in what way?”
“Well,” I say thoughtfully, “he told me he was in love once. A long time ago.”
Jamie snorts. “Was it with a beautiful redhead?”
I cock my head at him. “Yes. Is it true?”
“It’s true.” He looks down at the pavement. “Except it wasn’t him who was in love with the redhead a long time ago. It was me. He likes to use my stories because I’m the only person he knows well who isn’t crazy.”
“The redhead…” I say softly. “Is she the one you almost married? The one that he…”
He stops walking and his shoulders heave as he takes a deep breath. “Yes.”
I touch his shoulder gently. “I’m sorry, Jamie.”
He nods. I can see he’s trying to shake it off, but it’s hard for him. This girl must have died over a hundred years ago, but it seems like being responsible for the death of somebody you love is something you might never get over.
We make our way to the restaurant in silence. A few times Jamie’s shoulder brushes against mine and I realize I don’t mind. I’m beginning to understand that he’s not a different person than the guy I’ve gotten to know over the past three years. Even if some of the things he told me were untrue. Deep down, he’s the same man. He never hid his soul from me.
“So,” I say to Jamie when we’re settled at our table, “your parents don’t live in Michigan, I assume.”
“No,” he says quietly. “My parents are long dead. Well, my mother is, at least. And the man who raised me. My father—my biological father—well, he’s still out there somewhere.”
I watch him take hunk of bread from the basket in the middle of the table. I wonder how much satisfaction he gets from ordinary food like that.
“What’s your father like?” I ask.
He shrugs. “I don’t know. I never met him. But I assume he’s not a very nice guy.”
“Why?”
“Because he was going to kill my mother before he found out she was pregnant.”
“Oh.” I take a hunk of bread myself. “Do you want to meet him?”
He shudders. “I really don’t. I used to though. Even though it was always obvious he’s just as evil as Chas, I still… I mean, he’s my father. I wanted to at least meet him.”
“But not anymore?”
He shakes his head emphatically. “He’s a murderer. As bad as Chas or… worse. He’s evil. I don’t want anything to do with him.”
The waitress interrupts our conversation to take our order. I’m not particularly hungry, but I get myself a burger. She scribbles down my order and then turns to Jamie with a smile on her face, “And what can I get you, sugar?”
Waitresses always have flirted with Jamie. I always thought it was because they saw him limping around and felt bad for him. But now I realize how nice-looking Jamie is. Just as handsome as Hunter, really, even though he’s not trying. He doesn’t have the same charisma, but he makes up for it with his genuine smile.
“I’ll have the eight ounce New York strip steak,” he tells her.
“And how do you want that?
He glances at me, hesitating. Finally, he says, “Rare, please.”
I’d seen him order a rare steak before. I teased him about it—told him it was still going to be mooing when it got to the table. He laughed.
Now it’s not funny.
“Sorry,” he says, when the waitress goes back to the kitchen with our orders.
“Don’t apologize,” I say. “If you want your steak rare, get it rare.”
He smiles crookedly. “I remember when I was a kid, getting steak or any kind of fresh meat was a rare treat.”
“How come?”
“Well,” he says thoughtfully, “for one thing, we didn’t have refrigerators.”
I shake my head at him. “I can’t believe you were alive in the nineteenth century. Isn’t it weird to live in the twenty-first century after experiencing all that?”
“Not really.” He moves his straw around in his water glass. “It’s not like it happened overnight. I mean, when you were a kid, smartphones didn’t exist, right? And now everyone has one.”
“So what’s better? Then or now?”
“It’s hard to say.” He takes a dr
ink of water while he thinks it over. “I love computers. That’s definitely been one of the best things about this century.”
“I’m assuming your parents didn’t actually buy you a computer when you were in third grade.”
“Brooke, when I was in third grade, we didn’t have electricity.”
I laugh. It’s the first time I’ve laughed since Hunter (or Chas or whatever his name is) put that knife to my throat. At the time, I wasn’t sure I’d ever laugh again. But now, sitting here with Jamie, I feel like my life might be okay again someday.
“Thank you,” I say to him.
He raises his eyebrows at me. “For what?”
“For saving my life last night.”
He’s quiet for a moment. “You don’t have to thank me for that.”
“I know,” I say.
And then I reach out and put my hand on top of his.
Jamie looks up at me in surprise. He’s not sure what to do, but it’s obvious he won’t pull away from me. I’m still confused as hell, but the more I think about it, the more one thing is clear to me:
I’m in love with Jamie.
He’s not a monster like Hunter. He’s a good person. He’s been watching out for me. And he’s willing to do anything to make sure Hunter doesn’t get to me again. Well, he wasn’t willing to kill someone, but I can understand that. He wasn’t entirely truthful with me about the details of his life, but considering the circumstances, I can’t blame him.
“Brooke,” he murmurs.
I look into his eyes, wishing he weren’t wearing those contacts. I want to see his real eyes. “You said this morning that you never let yourself fall in love. Until you met me.”
He sucks in a breath. “Yeah…”
“So are you saying you’re in love with me?”
“Come on, Brooke,” he says again. “You know I am. I’d do anything for you.”
Love Bites Page 24