The Sin Eater (A F.R.E.A.K.S. Squad Investigation Book 5)

by Jennifer Harlow

  Okay, stop. Jesus. Connor. Focus on Connor.

  I will not be a coward anymore. He’s been good to me. If we are over then he deserves a face-to-face talk. Plus I really don’t want to peeve off the ruler of San Diego if I can help it.

  I listen to his message. “Hello, Beatrice. I was merely calling to check in on you. I hope all is well. I am thinking of you. Especially certain parts of you,” he purrs. “Please phone me back. There is actually something I wish to discuss with you, something mutually beneficial to us both. I hope you will find my proposition amenable. So…please…phone me back. I wait with baited breath. Good-bye.”

  God, he sounds so sincere. I press re-dial and he picks up on the second ring.

  “Connor McInnis.”

  “Hi, it’s Bea,” I say.

  “Hello,” he says almost cheerfully. “It is wonderful to hear your dulcet voice. How are you? Where are you?”

  “I’m visiting my grandmother. We just ate dinner.”

  “Lovely. You sound well. A night away seems to have done you wonders.”

  “It did.”

  “Well, perhaps I can improve your mood further. I want to show you something.”

  “Is this the mutually beneficial proposal you mentioned in your voice message? Is it business or personal?” I ask.

  “Which option will grant me an audience?” he asks.

  I shake my head and smile. “Just so you know I’m staying at my hotel again tonight. Or my grandmother’s.”

  “Perhaps I can change your mind. But will you meet me?” Connor asks.

  Maybe when we meet face-to-face I’ll know what to do. “Okay. Where?”

  “I can send a car—”

  “No, just give me an address. I can drive myself.”

  “Very well. Do you have a pen?” He gives me an address in downtown San Diego. “I shall meet you there in an hour.”

  “Okay. See you then. Bye.” I hang up.

  Why is my whole body tense? Probably because this is a bad idea. He won’t hurt me, at least not physically. I just don’t want any drama. I’ve confronted enough unpleasantness lately, I’m not sure I can handle a drop more. But I’m doing this. No more hiding.

  Getting past Nana proves easier than I thought. We chat a little while watching Jeopardy—I know exactly one answer—but I keep my eye on the clock and hand on my cell phone. I’m surprised Oliver hasn’t called to check on me. Maybe he’s waiting for me at the hotel. Crud, should I call him? After the meeting with Connor. I’m sure we’ll have lots to discuss after. Or if he calls before. Okay, if he calls before I leave the house, I’m not going. He can come watch Jeopardy with us. Nana probably likes him more than she likes me right now anyway.

  But he doesn’t. I don’t get off that easy. I tell Nana I’m going back to the hotel. Not a lie exactly, I’m just taking a detour on the way. A strange detour at that. The GPS leads me downtown to the Gaslamp District, just a few blocks from the club. After parking in a structure, I have to check the address because I find myself at a vacant storefront between a clothing boutique and upper-end furniture store. Both of those have people inside so I don’t think he called me here to murder me. My destination is all white walls and wooden floor.

  There’s a light on inside the empty shop, so I try the door. It’s open. “Hello?” I call.

  A second later Connor steps out from the back room, holding a folder, as always looking dapper in designer black jeans, white V-neck t-shirt, black vest, and necklaces just like the night I met him and most of our nights in Vegas. Rock star casual. Dumping him loses a few points. He smiles that crinkly eyed smile of his and there goes another point. My libido only gets a third of the vote though. “You came,” he purrs in that accent. Another point.

  “Of course,” I say.

  He strides toward me, smile never wavering. The kiss, a mere peck on the lips, adds another point. Oh, crap. Let reason prevail. I do kiss him back. He steps away first. “I missed you last night,” he says. “I did have the opportunity to catch up on work, though. You have been bad for business, fairest.”

  “Me corrupting you. Bet you didn’t see that coming,” I quip with a smile.

  “Now there is that beautiful smile of yours,” he says with his own growing. “I was concerned after last night’s…unpleasantness, I would never see it again.”

  “The wonders of a good night’s sleep and room service in bed,” I say, my smile wavering. Not a total lie.

  “Wonders indeed. And I am honored you were willing to leave your little paradise to meet with me. Especially after my abysmal behavior last night and the night before. You were following your moral code. I am simply not used to being with someone with such a code. I am also not used to people disobeying me. My yes men and women have dulled my conflict resolution and empathy skills.”

  “So there’s been no blowback like you feared?” I ask.

  “No. Not yet anyway. I have managed to keep the situation relatively quiet. Not even a mention in the newspaper. The police have ID’d half the bodies, including your Mariah. Once the selfish anger passed, I realized…how impressive what you accomplished was.”

  “Thank you. And you have to know I didn’t pursue it or leave last night to punish you. I—”

  He raises his hand to stop me. “Of course I do. And you were correct once more. We did require a night apart. To breathe so to speak,” he says with a quick smile. “To think. And it occurred to me I am not as adept at modern courting as I believed I was. I have not seriously wooed a woman in decades. Before women’s liberation even. My past paramours were more than content with the parties, the gossip, the trips. You require more. I even respect that,” he says with a smile. “Which leads me to my proposal.” I raise an eyebrow. “It is not that sort of proposal, I assure you. This is strictly business.” He glances around the store. “What do you think of this space?”

  I peer around too. It’s medium sized, good lighting, good location. “It has potential, but I’m no expert. Why?”

  “Because I have an eye to turn this space into an independent book shop, and I want you to build it from the ground up. To run it. With all the big shops closing, independents are on the rise fiscally speaking. The big bookshops that remain used to be community oriented but now they barely sell books. I envision this store as filling that gap. We would sell coffee, books, but also host author events. Live music. Poetry readings. Book clubs. We would turn it into an intellectual salon worthy of Gertrude Stein herself.”

  “And you want me to play Gertie?” I chuckle. “Connor, I don’t know the first thing about running a store let alone building one from the ground up.”

  “I would put you in contact with consultants already on my payroll. I have almost two dozen small businesses—clothing, restaurants, art galleries—that the team have built. They know codes, permits, vendors, and you would work closely with them.”

  “If you have them then why do you need me?”

  “Because I doubt a one of them has ever cracked open a novel, let alone attended an author reading. Do you know why so many businesses fail? The one thing they lack?”

  “Luck?” I posit.

  “Passion. Love of what one does. It sustains you during the dark times. It drives you even whilst naught but fumes remain. This would be your shop. I would remain a silent partner, purely a financial backer and sounding board should you require one.”

  “You’d be my boss?”

  “Partner,” he insists, “one you can buy out or walk away from at any time. I will put that in the contract.”

  I stare at my boyfriend for a few seconds. He does paint a pretty picture no doubt. It’s practically a Monet. It’s a wonderful offer. Almost a dream come true. But deep down it feels a little like the snake offering Eve an apple. “And you just came up with this idea last night?”

  “No. I had my consultants begin their research whilst we were in Las Vegas after you mentioned you could not find a bookstore anywhere. Their reports, which I have righ
t here, are yours to peruse.” He hands me the file he holds, his finger lightly brushing my own. “Of course it may be better if you return to my apartment so we can review them together.”

  Oh, God. I came here for clarity but now my mind’s cloudier than ever. I want to go with him, listen as he sells me on this amazing opportunity between rounds of cunnilingus, but I find myself saying, “Not tonight, okay? I still…need time. Especially now,” I say, holding up the file.

  “I understand. I am disappointed, but I understand. I can be most distracting,” he says with that damn eye crinkly grin.

  “You certainly are,” I say with a matching grin.

  “I would be even more distracting in Paris,” he says. “That offer always remains.”

  There goes another point. I do want to see Paris. Okay, why was I ever considering breaking up with this man? Luxury trips, great sex, now my very own bookstore? He’s whipped up another Monet. I just… “One offer at a time, Danny Boy, and business should always be gotten out of the way first.”

  He fake pouts. “An excellent mind frame for a business partner, terrible one for a lover. I am both impressed and annoyed.”

  “I live to keep things interesting.”

  “And you succeed.” He smiles again. “Well, at the very least, allow me to walk you to your car. In this instance I will not take no for an answer.”

  “How almost very gentlemanly of you. Okay.”

  “Give me one moment.” He turns and walks to the back room. Just to the car, Bea. That’s as far as he’s getting tonight. The lights shut off and a moment later Connor returns wearing a leather jacket. Just to the car, Bea. “Ready, fairest?”

  I do allow him to slide his arm around my waist after he locks the door. He glances over his shoulder before smiling at me and holding on as I start us toward the car. Dang, he even smells lovely, like expensive cologne. Just to the car, Bea. Just to the car.

  We round the corner and he glances back over his shoulder again. This time his body tenses beside mine, and he squeezes my waist tighter. “Beatrice, do you have a weapon on you?” Connor whispers, barely audible even with his lips pressed to my ear.

  “What?” I whisper back.

  “I fear we are being followed,” he whispers. “A vampire. I noticed him milling around the store before you arrived. Now laugh.”

  I let out a little giggle, but inside I’m battle ready. F.R.E.A.K.S. training proves handy again. Every muscle tenses, my senses heighten, and my mind begins on strategies. I don’t have a weapon except my power, which is all I really need. There are people on the streets so he won’t attack, I don’t think. “Are you sure, darling?” I ask gaily.

  “Not completely,” he says, “but we shall see, no?”

  We act the happy carefree couple strolling down the sidewalk as I keep an eye on our shadow in the glass of the storefronts. He’s about ten steps behind. Tall, bald, Latino, talking on his phone or pretending to as he glances up at us. I rest my head on Connor’s shoulder. “What should we do?” I whisper.

  “Get to your car,” he whispers back.

  “I’m not leaving you alone to deal with this.”

  “This is not your fight,” he whispers.

  “I am not leaving you alone,” I hiss.

  Connor squeezes my waist again and kisses my cheek. The vampire’s still behind us half a block later. What’s his game? Wait until we’re isolated then pounce? We can use that to our advantage. The two-story parking structure is in sight. A good a place as any. But when we turn right toward the structure, Baldie turns left. I breathe a literal sigh of relief. When we walk into the structure, I say, “He’s gone.”

  Connor looks back before smiling at me. “Thank you.”

  “What for?”

  “For refusing to leave my side. I am sorry for my paranoia.”

  “Is something going on?” I ask.

  “Always, fairest.”

  “Well, in that case, I’d better drive you back to the club. F.R.E.A.K.S. escort service at your disposal.”

  “I would prefer if you escorted me back to your hotel room.”

  “Sorry. That is not part of the service. I—”

  Something hits me from behind, and I’m falling to the ground sideways before I put cause and effect together. I don’t recognize what’s happened until the pain in my wrist starts. It’s not as terrible as when I broke my arm, but it’s still a shock. I turn over just as Baldie literally stabs Connor in the back as another man slashes him across the chest. There’s no time to piece it all together. The bald vamp flies right and the one behind Connor glides left. I leap to my feet as Connor attempts to yank the knife still lodged in his back. “Connor!”

  I barely take a step toward him when Baldie vampire appears right in front of me, knife already slashing toward me. On reflex I hold up my hand to stop him. White hot pain rips across my hand. “No!” someone yells. “Not her!” We both glance at the second assailant. “We’re not supposed to hurt her.”

  I lose a second to take that information in, but Connor tackles Baldie. Both collapse to the pavement, fighting for the knife. My lost second ends. I kick Baldie in the face and in his haze Connor whacks the knife out of his hand. The other man vanishes, I hope for good. Baldie knees Connor in the groin, causing Connor to roll off the vamp. Before I can do a thing, Baldie vanishes as well. He’s just gone. Connor holds onto the family jewels, bleeding everywhere. I have a split second to choose my course of action. Help him or chase them. I hate that my first instinct is pursuit. To catch them and find out why they attacked. I loathe unanswered questions.

  But I quash the urge and move toward Connor. “Get up,” I say as I bend down to help him do just that. “We have to go.” I pick up the knife before wrapping my arm around Connor’s waist to aid the hobbling vampire quickly to my car. I guess our assailants decided to cut their losses. I hope so. I lean Connor against the car to retrieve my keys from my purse. He makes it to the passenger side alone. I unlock the doors and let out a ragged breath as I turn on the engine. The trembling starts as I maneuver us out of the structure. We’re safe. I think.

  “The club,” Connor groans as he shifts uncomfortably in his seat.

  “Are you okay?” I ask.

  He holds up his bleeding hand with a grimace. “I think they used silver blades. Bloody hell, that hurts.” He shifts with a groan. “Are you alright?”

  “Just my hand. I’m okay.” Club. Get to the club. I’m making such a bad habit of not keeping the promises I made to myself. “Who were they?”

  “No bloody idea. Morons. That is who they were. Dead morons if I ever locate them.” He presses his good hand to the slash on his chest and groans. “Thank you.”

  “For what?”

  “You saved my life. He was about to slit my throat.”

  “Do you think—”

  “I do not know! I do not know,” he says through gritted teeth before removing his cell phone from his jeans. “Neil? Meet me at home with a med kit. I was attacked. We are a minute away.”

  One minute later I pull into the club’s garage right beside the secret torture room. Though Neil rushes over to us from the stairwell door, Connor manages to climb out of the car unassisted. His super-healing must have worked its magic on his groin but with a silver knife his hand and back still drip blood. Heck his shirt is more red than white now. He may need actual stitches. Keeping one hand on the purloined knife, I scan the garage in case the vamps followed us here. We make it to the stairwell and his apartment unmolested. Safe.

  The first thing I do is locate a dish towel for my own dripping hand as Connor sits at the dining room table, shrugging off his coat with a wince as Neil hovers around him. “No, check her first,” Connor orders.

  “No,” I say, “really, it’s not that bad. It’s not deep. I just need a bandage. Check him, especially his back.”

  Neil opens the first-aid kit before cutting off Connor’s shirt. The gash across his pectoral is about as shallow as my gash and t
he stab wound on his shoulder is small enough a few stitches should do him, which is exactly what Neil begins to do. I look away. “We already have people canvassing the area,” Neil says. “We will find them, sir.”

  “Bring them back alive if you can,” Connor says with a wince. Stitches suck.

  “Is there anything else to go on, sir?” Neil asks.

  “They said I wasn’t to be touched,” I add. Both men look my way. “To be hurt.”

  “Antonia,” Neil whispers to himself.

  “We do not know that,” Connor says.

  “Who else? Who else would care what happened to her?” Neil asks with derision. Still not my biggest fan I see.

  “Why would Antonia care?” I ask.

  “She would not. Oliver would,” Connor says with another wince. Stitches really suck.

  “But why would she do this now? You have a truce. And what would she gain if you were just randomly killed?” I ask.

  “Because you—” Neil begins.

  “Neil, no,” Connor cuts in.

  The men exchange an angry glare but Neil’s lip curls up before gazing my way. “Because you made us appear weak. Because you proved Connor could not maintain control of his subjects. Because the whole of San Diego and beyond have noticed how distracted he has become. Because of you we are weak for the first time in decades. Of course people will take advantage.”

  “I said shut your mouth,” Connor snaps and even leaps up. “Do not speak to her in that manner. Ever. Leave. Go do your bloody job and find the bastards who did this to us!”

  The men continue glowering at one another, Connor’s lip curling into a snarl for several tense seconds until Neil finally gazes down at the floor. “Yes. Sir,” he says with disdain. The vamp glowers at me as he walks past and out of the apartment.