"Verra little." He hoped. Hearing Elena tell him he was nice for a vampire probably wouldn't earn him points with Vivian, not that she would believe it.
"I'll bring the diary here tomorrow evening." She grabbed her coat and slid it on. "Promise me that you will do everything in your power to find the answers I need."
"Aye, I promise."
"Now, go find your woman and mend some fences. I think you've tormented her enough." She gave him a sad little smile. "You would have made a good werewolf."
Sinjin laughed outright. "Perish the thought."
Anthony watched through the windows of the Chat Noir as Vivian closed up for the night. Imagine his surprise to find the head of Carrington International working as a hostess in a French Quarter nightclub. The photos he'd received didn't do this woman justice. Killing such a lovely creature was a shame, but the money she'd bring would more than make up for it.
He reached into his light jacket and fingered the reassuring weight of the Sig Sauer snug in its holster. Soon, Vivian Carrington would be dead and he'd be a very rich man.
He settled himself farther into the doorway to wait, his mind feverishly planning what to do with his newfound fortune.
* * *
Chapter 7
Vivian seethed as she retrieved her bag and linen duster-style jacket from the employee break room. How dare that wretch kiss her, then turn around and have another woman in his arms barely twenty-four hours later. Vivian Carrington did not share her toys with anyone. Not now. Not ever.
Cad.
She slid on the jacket and stalked to the front door. Sinjin was yet another example of what was wrong with most men. They were fickle, turning their attentions to any available woman, no, make that any woman, who happened to flit by. She should know as she'd done the exact same thing several times herself. While she'd never indulged in an affair with a married or involved man, on several occasions she'd discovered after the fact that they'd deceived her. One man, an oil company executive, had been married with a Park Avenue mistress. Both of whom he'd neglected to disclose to Vivian. He'd turned into such a cliché.
Men. They weren't to be trusted.
A large crowd of people blocked her exit via the main doors. Annoyed, she turned toward the back of the restaurant. Behind the coffee stand, there was a small door that led to Bourbon Street. Flipping the lock, she slipped out the door and into the rowdy atmosphere before locking the door behind her.
She needed some space away from the handsome bar owner. Now was as good a time as any to contemplate her next move. Did she stay or go? Her research would be completed in another week and once she sent off the materials she'd gathered, she'd be a free woman. She felt a pang in the area of her heart at the idea of leaving New Orleans. In the short time she'd been in residence, she'd grown to love the atmosphere and people who inhabited the city, one resident in particular.
You're in deep, my dear...
"No, I'm not," she muttered. "I'm just horny." She wove her way around drunken partygoers then turned the corner and moved away from the crowds, her agitated gait eating the sidewalk as she progressed north toward her hotel. "All I need is space to figure out what the hell is going on in my own head and-"
A sudden resistance halted her as something or someone grabbed her backpack and swung her sideways. Before she could scream in protest, she was slammed sideways into a brick wall as hands ripped at her bag.
"I want the book," a voice growled in her ear.
Vivian struggled against her tormentor. "What book?" She was shoved against the wall, face first, a hand pinning her neck as someone tore the bag from her back.
"You know exactly what book, whore."
"No, actually I don't." Adrenaline and annoyance flooded her system. This was the second time in a week she'd been manhandled in this city and she was tired of it. Maybe it wasn't a good place to buy a house. Who knew the crime rate would be so high?
"It isn't here." Another voice spoke.
Unceremoniously, she was yanked around to face her captors. She got the impression of height and menace as the one that held her hostage grabbed her by the throat. She reached for his wrist, her nails digging into his skin, but he didn't seem to notice the damage she was inflicting.
"Where is it?"
The fingers tightened, threatening to cut off her air supply.
Her eyes grew wide as black spots danced before her eyes. "I don't know what you're talking about," she gasped.
The other figure came closer and this one was much smaller than the first. "This isn't the right woman." His voice was tinged with the flavor of the South. "She's nothing but a fucking waitress."
The tall dark-haired man looked at the smaller one, then back to her. His eyes narrowed and Vivian's heart leapt into her throat. "We don't need her then." He released her and shoved her toward the shorter one. "Kill her, but do it quietly. We don't want her found anytime soon." He turned and walked back toward the lights of Bourbon Street.
"No." She rubbed her raw throat. "Please don't hurt me."
The man shrugged. "I'm sorry, beautiful. Tall, dark and brutal speaks and I must do as he bids."
His eyes glittered in the darkness and Vivian had the distinct impression that he truly was sorry he had to hurt her. But not sorry enough to walk away and leave her alone.
"I beg you, please, don't kill me," she gasped. "I have money, I can pay you."
He hesitated, then glanced in the direction the other man had gone. Indecision was written on his face when he turned back to her. He raised his hand and contemplated her fate as he ran a slim finger down her cheek. She struggled not to shudder beneath his impersonal touch.
"You're far too beautiful to kill." His fingers tightened on her throat and she gasped. "There are so many other things that can be done with you." He raised his other hand and brought it down in a sharp blow to the jaw and she knew no more.
"What do you mean, she left?"
Tracey set down a tray of dirty glasses on the bar and started unloading them near the sink. "I mean she left. I saw her sneak out the back door about fifteen minutes ago."
"I told her to wait," Sinjin grumbled. "Why dinna women e'er listen?"
"Well, maybe if men would quit telling us what to do and ask us what we really want, we might actually listen." Tracy picked up the tray and continued to the kitchen.
Sinjin rolled his eyes. Only the female mind could conceive something as illogical as that. He tucked the portfolio containing the photos under his arm as he headed for the door. "Julius, I'm out of here. Have a good evening."
The bartender waved in response, deep in conversation with a redhead and a curvaceous blonde. Sinjin grinned. Looked like his head bartender was in for an interesting evening.
He exited the restaurant and walked up Bourbon at a fast clip. He wanted to catch Vivian before she reached her hotel or else he wouldn't get another chance until the next evening. He had a feeling she wouldn't answer her phone if he tried to call.
Women. Who understood them?
For the past six months, the women he'd tangled with were beautiful on the outside with very little upstairs. Let's face it. He'd only wanted to lose himself physically in the majority of them.
Other than annoyance that she'd left without him, he wasn't sure what he felt for Vivian. He desired her. She was a beautiful woman and he'd have to be blind to miss the interested looks she'd received since she'd begun working at the Chat. Male eyes, both young and old, seemed to gravitate toward her as she'd walked about the bar. Even more important than her obvious charms, he genuinely liked her. She had intelligence and a quick wit and she wasn't afraid to speak her mind.
If he was going to be completely honest with himself, that was what attracted him. It had nothing to do with her fabulous legs or wicked laugh. It was her confidence and bearing. Vivian was the type of woman who would be at home in almost any situation. So, they had issues to work out between them, but they could accomplish it. They were two mature adults
who-
The flashing strobes of emergency vehicles caught his eye as he turned the corner. A large crowd had formed, blocking his view of the incident then he saw Detective Draven ordering the crowd to part. The mass shifted reluctantly as several uniformed officers stepped in to encourage them. As the gurney moved into view, Sinjin saw the woman strapped to it.
He slowed to a stop, his heart in his throat.
Dark hair, white shirt, black skirt, duster and a narrow band of red silk around her throat were all he could see as her face was turned away from him. He ran the forty or so yards separating them, shouldering mortals aside as he reached the crowd. As he neared, Vivian was loaded into the ambulance with Draven following, a battered backpack in his hand.
"Dra-"
"Where do you think you're going?" A loud voice jerked his attention away from the activity inside the ambulance. A police officer stood next to him, his face mere inches from Sinjin's. "I told you people to break it up, there is nothing to see here."
"I just need-"
"Look buddy, I asked nicely." The officer placed his hand over the butt of his holstered gun. "Keep moving, don't make me arrest you. I'm getting off in a hour and I don't want to process the paperwork."
Out of the corner of his eye Sinjin saw the doors shut and the ambulance pull away. While he realized the officer was only doing his job, it took a great deal of restraint to keep from lashing out. Sinjin ground his teeth as he gave the officer a curt nod and turned away.
He dodged the remaining stragglers and began to run in the direction of his house, already calculating how long it would take to reach Vivian's side.
"You're a lucky young woman."
Vivian gave a raspy chuckle. "I don't feel very lucky or very young right now."
The emergency room doctor patted her on the shoulder. "Well, you're alive and that's what counts. Your headache will fade as will your bruises in a few days."
"Do I have a concussion?"
"Possibly a very slight one. Your CAT scan came back normal, so I don't think we have anything to worry about."
"Maybe you don't." She forced a smile.
"We're about ready to release you, all I have to do is sign on the dotted line. In the mean time there's a Detective Draven hovering outside the door. Can I admit him?"
"Please, and thank you for taking such good care of me."
"You're welcome. I hope to not see you again under such circumstances." The doctor gave her a wink then exited.
Vivian let her head drop to the pillow. Every inch of her body ached, her head the most. What had happened on the street? One minute she'd been walking to the hotel and the next she'd been pushed around.
The curtain was whisked aside and Brent stepped into the cubicle. His gaze was assessing as he scanned her from head to toe before finally settling on her face. "How are you feeling?"
"How do I look?" she countered.
"Battered," he acknowledged.
"That's pretty much how I feel."
His expression turned serious. "Feel up to answering a few questions?"
"Personal or professional type questions?"
"Professional."
She gave a tentative nod. "I don't know what I can tell you. It's a little fuzzy now."
"What time did you leave the club?"
"I think it was around two."
"And you left alone?"
"Yes. I was supposed to wait for Sinjin, but..."
She stopped, not wanting to go into why she hadn't waited for him. She'd sound like a complete ninny if she told him the truth.
"But what?"
She pleated the sheet with her fingers, her gaze fixed on the nervous motions. "I didn't want to. I changed my mind, so I left."
Brent made a note in his book. He didn't say anything, but she had the feeling she'd disappointed him in some way.
"Then what happened?" he asked.
"I was walking back to the hotel and someone grabbed me and shoved me against the wall. He pulled my backpack off and went through it." She frowned. "I think there were two of them."
"You think?"
"I remember two different voices, one had a slight southern accent." She looked up at him. "How can I remember that and nothing else?"
"Just take it slow." Brent laid his hand on her arm. "Vivian, two days ago you made a theft report that your purse was stolen. Do you think this incident could be related?"
She frowned and shook her head, stopping when the pain sent a warning jolt. "I don't see how they could be. I mean, they happened in the same general area, but that time the guy just grabbed my bag and ran. He never tried to hurt me."
"Have you ever thought that maybe someone might be stalking you?"
She gave a startled bark of laughter then covered her mouth when she saw he looked very somber. She cleared her throat and schooled her features into a more serious expression. "Why would someone do that?"
"You're beautiful and you're very wealthy."
"You've been doing your homework." She waved his words away. "I'm hardly a public figure. Ninety-nine percent of the people on the streets have probably never heard of Carrington International."
"How well do you know Damien St. James?"
She frowned. "What does he have to do with this?"
"It's just a question." He folded the notebook shut and tucked it into his jacket pocket.
Vivian shrugged, not wanting to talk about Sinjin, especially not with Brent. "I barely know him at all. We just met a few days ago."
He leaned over her. "Do you trust him?"
"Why are you asking this?"
"I want your gut reaction. Do you trust him?"
Yes.
She gave a tentative nod.
"Vivian, there are a lot of things in the world that we don't understand. New Orleans is a very old city, steeped in myths dealing with the supernatural realm. We have residents and visitors who believe they're paranormal beings and they actually live that lifestyle."
She frowned. "What are you talking about?"
"We have a group who believes themselves to be vampires."
Her eyes widened. "You mean, like a game?"
"No, they really believe they're vampires. They only leave their homes at night and they drink blood. Most of them don't appear to hunt for their meals as one would expect but, for all intents and purposes, they live the lives of vampires."
She rubbed her forehead. "Why are you telling me this?"
"Because I want you to understand that down here, things aren't always what they seem to be on the surface."
She made a sound of annoyance. "I get hit over the head and you're going on about a few misguided people? What does this have to do with Sinjin?"
"All the evidence points to Sinjin being-"
The curtain flew open and the object of their speculation appeared, his expression tense. "Are you okay?" He stepped into the cubbyhole, completely ignoring the detective.
She felt the absurd urge to lay her head on his shoulder. But Vivian Carrington never showed weakness, not in public and certainly not in front of a man. She bit her lip, wincing as she hit a sore spot. As tears filled her eyes, she raised her hand to shield herself from their gazes.
Footsteps approached and the bedrails were lowered. Within seconds, she was wrapped in Sinjin's arms, his scent surrounding her like a warm, familiar blanket. She closed her eyes and leaned into him, sliding her arms around his waist, content to be still for a few moments.
Composure regained, she released him and he moved back just a bit, his gaze moving over her face.
"It's okay, I'll get ye out of here."
"Thanks," she whispered.
"I'll get ye checked out and we'll be out of here in minutes." He released her.
"I need to-" she looked to her left and Draven was gone. "Where did he go?"
"He left when I arrived." Sinjin backed out of the curtained area. "Just rest, I'll be back in a few minutes."
Vivian leaned her head back against t
he pillows and closed her eyes. The nurse had given her some pain pills just before the detective had arrived and they were kicking in with a vengeance. She frowned. Now what had Draven been talking about? Something about vampires? She gave a weak chuckle.
What nonsense.
* * *
Chapter 8
"You could have taken me back to the hotel," Vivian said as he unlocked the front door to his house.
"There's no one there to keep an eye on ye." Sinjin tucked the portfolio containing the diary pages under his arm as he pushed the door open. "Ye'll be comfortable here and completely safe."
She walked around him and entered the house. "I'm not sure I feel safe anywhere at this point." She tipped her head back to take in the newly restored ceiling and he caught her slight wince as she rubbed the back of her neck. "This is lovely."
"Thank ye. I'm working on restoring it. The yards are still a complete disaster, but most of the inside is livable as long as ye stay in this wing of the house."
She looked down the long narrow hall that was next on his list of renovations. Moonlight shone through the windows, illuminating the scaffolding that had been moved there earlier last week. "Looks like a big job to me."
He gave a chuckle. "Dinna worry, yer quarters on the second floor are quite habitable."
"At this point, all I need is a bed-pillows and sheets are even optional."
"I think I can do better than that."
He led her up the steps and down the hall to his bedroom. He never used it for its intended purposes as it was too dangerous for a vampire to enter the dark sleep where anyone could easily gain access. In order to keep up appearances, he'd made the renovation of the bedroom and spacious bathroom as one of the first jobs he'd undertaken.
"Bedroom is here and the bathroom is through here." He flicked on the lights as he walked through the rooms. "Everything ye'll need is in the closet."
He turned in time to see her catch sight of her battered appearance in the mirror. Her hair was tangled and a bruise marred her chin with several more on her throat. Exhaustion lined her eyes, making them appear red and puffy with shadows underneath.
Wilder, J. C. - Shadow Dweller 6 Page 9