by Jenna Barwin
The story Henry had told her last night about Anne-Louise—she couldn’t quit thinking about it. He knew what it meant to hide. He knew what it meant to be trapped, to be under someone else’s control. And he knew what it meant to have secrets, secrets you could never share.
I’ve always had to hide. Why didn’t I realize others did as well?
The sadness in him lay just below the surface, mirroring her own pain. She wanted to wrap her arms around him and take away his sadness, just as he had for her when she told him about her amma.
All his talk about her “search” for a mate—what was he hinting at? He wanted her to build the lab in Sierra Escondida. Did it mean he wanted her for his mate, or was it something else—keep your friends close, and your enemies closer?
The way he kissed me, he didn’t feel like an enemy.
No, he trusted her enough to tell her about Anne-Louise, to place his reputation in her hands. They weren’t enemies.
Could he really want me for his mate?
She stopped thinking about it when she reached the cars. She said goodbye to the real estate agent and returned to her room at Gaea’s as the sun began to set. She collapsed onto her bed and stared at the ceiling. How was she going to get the money to buy the parcel? Last night, Gaea huffed and puffed about the doctor releasing her from bedrest, and refused to let her meet any potential investors.
She reached over, picked up the remote, and turned on the television. She flicked through the menu and then clicked it off. Nothing she wanted to watch. She rolled off the bed and began pacing, running her fingers through her hair. Maybe if she meditated…
She folded herself down onto the floor, cross-legged in the lotus position, the soles of her feet facing the ceiling, and aligned her chakras until her back was a straight line. Her pita had instilled in her the Hindu practice of meditation when she was a child, teaching her to be more aware of her body and mind.
Taking a deep breath in, she focused on the exhale, followed by another inhale. Once centered, the problem became clear. She had all the telltale signs—impatience, irritability, lack of focus, fatigue. Too long spent in human form.
Time to fix that oversight.
She rose from the floor, slipped on her shoes, and quietly snuck along the hall, down the back stairs, skulking out the door leading to Gaea’s vineyard. She didn’t want anyone to see her leave—especially Blanche. Just beyond the vineyard lay a series of switchback trails, leading to a mountain plateau. The plateau offered a private place to morph into another form. She didn’t bring a flashlight—she could adjust her eyes to see in the dark.
Her feet knew the way, allowing her mind to focus on Henry. The second time he kissed her, she’d run away, feeling guilty—she had no intent to seduce him to buy his silence, but her feelings of guilt were overcome by those gorgeous eyes, the color of dark bourbon and just as intoxicating. She brought her fingers to her lips, imagining the cool softness of his lips on hers and the scent of cedar and clove clinging lightly to him. Whose power to charm was winning, hers or his?
She jumped when the phone in her pocket rang, and she looked around. She was far enough up the trail that no one at Gaea’s house could have heard it.
“Hi, Cerissa, how’s the arm?” Zeke asked when she answered.
“It’s better, thanks.” She got back into the rhythm of her hike and asked, “How’s your trip to South America?”
“Just about wrapped up. I’m going to be back in town soon.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah, in less than a week. I’d like to take you out again when I do.”
Her lungs tightened. Why does that sound like another date? But she needed to learn more about where he had gone and whether he was connected to the vampire dominance movement.
“Why don’t you call me when you return? I’d love to hear about your work and how your trip to South America went,” she suggested.
“Yeah, sure, when I get back.”
She pressed the “end” button and composed an email to Ari rather than phoning. No telling what he was up to at this hour. She asked him to run a deeper background check on Zeke, focusing on government records. She added a request to investigate Rolf too—even if Henry didn’t suspect his friend, it wouldn’t hurt to look into Rolf’s history.
Ari was a whiz at getting deep dirt on people, provided it was stored electronically—he could hack any computer system. His email reply came back so quickly that she almost fumbled the phone: “Anything for you, cupcake. I’ll run Henry too, just in case you need some ammunition. So, are you sleeping with him yet? Stake or sex, which will it be?”
“Thx,” she typed back, ignoring his last remarks. She slid the phone into her back pocket and finished hiking up the dark mountain to the first plateau. The perfect place. She slipped behind a tree, shed her clothes, and morphed, basking in the relief brought on by changing species. The built-up tension fell away like molting feathers, and she loped up the trail to the mountain plateau. She could resume work on Leopold’s project in the morning.
* * *
Sitting in her office at the police station, Tig uploaded the interview video to her desktop computer. Body-worn cameras were standard issue for police officers on the Hill, and Jayden had put his to good use when he interviewed the guards. The inconspicuous camera was designed to record arrests, a defense against excessive-force complaints. Taken from Jayden’s perspective, where he sat at a cheap laminated table, she could see a small interview room at the prison. The video started when the door opened and the first guard walked into view.
“You Captain Johnson?” The guard extended his hand. Jayden’s arm came into view to shake hands.
She glanced down at the paperwork. This was Norman Tyler. One of the three guards who regularly worked the cell block where the perps were incarcerated.
“Thanks for taking the time to speak with me,” Jayden said in the video. Norman set a cup of coffee in front of him on the gray metal table. “And thanks for the coffee—it’s been a long day.”
Gray table, gray walls, gray chairs—if you weren’t depressed before walking in, you certainly would be afterward. Even Norman’s white skin looked a little gray in the video.
“I don’t know what I can tell you that ain’t in the files,” Norman said, slowly lowering his large body into the standard-issue institutional chair.
The camera caught Jayden’s hands opening the file. “It says here Luzzari, Giordano, and Moretti were all on the same cell block.”
“That’s right.” Norman slumped forward slightly, leaning against the table for support. He looked like one of those bears in a zoo video, waiting for a treat to be thrown his way.
Jayden turned the files so Norman could see the photos. “Luzzari and Giordano were released before Moretti. Did they know each other?”
“I’m sure those guys spent time talking. No law against that in here.”
“How about visitors? Anyone from the outside visit them?”
“Hell, I didn’t pay attention to their visitors. Whatever’s in the file.”
Jayden moved the file back to his side of the table. “Two of them had visits from their families. But not Giordano.” He thumbed the page to turn it. “They had different lawyers. The file doesn’t say who picked them up when they were released.”
“No shit? Let me see.” Norman picked up a file and flipped to the end. “That’s strange. The exit report is missing. The guard who processed them out—he’s supposed to fill it in.”
Jayden quickly thumbed to the end of the other two files. “No exit report in these either. Does it happen a lot? That the form goes missing?”
“Nah, that’s why I said it’s strange—even stranger with all three missing.”
“Who’s responsible for filing the form?”
“Records clerk. We drop all the forms into a basket at the end of our shift; the clerk puts ’em into the jacket. At least, he used to. Now he just scans ’em into the computer and shreds the form we wrot
e. We’re supposed to get computers so we can enter ’em ourselves, but budget cutbacks, ya know?”
The interview video ended shortly after Norman’s explanation. Jayden had followed up with the records clerk, but no one could locate the exit reports. Tig leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms. Nothing much there, aside from the missing reports, but paperwork got lost all the time. Hmm. Should she send Jayden back to investigate the guards? She clicked on the next video. She’d decide once she viewed all three.
Chapter 36
Henry hurried to his office at the winery. Paperwork sat on his office desk, paperwork he had to complete before his trip to San Francisco. A major distributor of fine wines had asked for the meeting. They were considering his Cabernet for their roster—a big coup if he could land it.
The timing was less than ideal. He didn’t want to leave Cerissa, even for a few nights. His passion for her had kept growing, his attempts to stop it as futile as brakes on black ice. The taste of her when they kissed was an appetizer leaving him wanting more. If he had it his way, she’d end up in his bed, where he could taste every inch…
No time for fantasies now. He flipped on the light in the office he shared with Rolf and settled in behind his desk to tackle the stack of papers his secretary had left for him. He looked up when Rolf entered the room. After an exchange of “good evenings,” he lowered his head to look at his paperwork again.
He heard Rolf’s chair squeak. “You came here alone with her last night? When did you become so verrückt?”
He threw down his pen. “Crazy? I’m crazy?” he said, tapping his chest with his fist.
“Yes, crazy. You and Yacov both. You’re dating Leopold’s envoy and Yacov wants to give mortals voting rights. What’s happening with the both of you?”
“You could have told me about the mayor’s committee. Instead, I had to hear about it from Tig.”
“I didn’t think they were serious. You’re Yacov’s friend—you talk some sense into him.”
“It’s too late for me to stop it. We’ll have to hope Yacov and Father Matt can appease them.” He picked up the next document in the stack of papers on his desk and waved it at Rolf. “Look, I have a lot of work to do. I don’t have time to argue with you.”
When Rolf didn’t reply, Henry rested his forehead against his hand, his elbow braced against his own desk, blocking Rolf from his field of vision. The document he’d picked up was the immunity agreement, prepared by the town attorney. Tig had called a couple of times already, pushing for his bookie’s name, but the agreement was far from satisfactory—an offer of limited immunity. He was convinced the shooting had nothing to do with his bookie, so he decided to hold out for a full immunity deal. He picked up his pen and attacked the document, striking out unacceptable provisions.
Rolf’s chair squeaked again, dragging Henry’s attention away from the editing process. He kept his eyes focused on the document, trying to ignore Rolf.
“We’re not done yet,” Rolf said as if no time had passed. “The night Cerissa was shot, what did she tell you that’s made you so stupid?”
“She didn’t tell me anything.”
“I know when you’re lying.”
Henry lifted his hand slightly, peering up so he could see Rolf without raising his head. Why had he ever agreed to share office space with Rolf? He should have added another wing to the winery instead.
“She was in no shape to discuss anything,” Henry finally replied.
“So what is this?” Rolf slapped his desk. “Guilt? You’re taking her to the dance because the bullet was meant for you?”
The dance. Rolf knows about the dance already. Henry had spoken with the mayor about it last night after dropping Cerissa off at Gaea’s. The mayor seemed agreeable to waiving the rule. Obviously, the mayor spared no time in telling Rolf about the request.
He dropped his hand from his forehead. Hiding behind it wasn’t working. He swiveled his chair and looked directly at Rolf. “As I recall, you’re the one who insisted I meet her. You wanted me to keep a close eye on her.”
“I wanted you to use the eyes in your head,” Rolf said, pointing at his own blue eyes, “not the little one between your legs.”
Henry narrowed his eyes. “Madre de Dios, you should have considered that before you prodded me into spending time with her.”
“I also prodded you to send her to a hospital. Did you listen to me then? No. So why are you suddenly infatuated with her?”
“She’s pretty and I like her,” he replied. “Those reasons have usually been good enough for either of us.”
“She’s Leopold’s pawn. He’s using her to get information from you.”
“I’m sure Leopold is anxiously awaiting her reports on my hobbies and interests.”
“You know what I mean. The lab is just a sham to hide her real reason for being here.”
“She sounds quite sincere about her task for Leopold. She merely wants the community to support Leopold’s project before buying land for it.”
“Bullshit. Something about her isn’t right. It’s as if everyone on the Hill has fallen under her spell. Are you sure she’s mortal?”
His stomach contorted. Was Rolf taking a stab in the dark, or had he overheard something he shouldn’t have? Standing up, he replied, “If you’ll excuse me, Rolf, I have no time for this nonsense. I have real work to do.”
He strode to the testing lab. If he stayed and argued with Rolf, it would only give more credence to Rolf’s suspicions. Maybe Rolf would take the hint and leave him alone.
Instead, footsteps followed him. “Is she human?” Rolf demanded.
¡Mierda! He stood at the lab counter, keeping his back to Rolf, his face hidden. “You were there. She bled human blood—you could smell it.”
“All I can smell now is crap.”
Henry let out an exasperated breath. His assistant had left a bottle of wine on the counter for him to test. He focused on the wine bottle’s label, trying to remain calm. “She’s human. If you don’t believe me, ask Dr. Clarke.”
“I spoke with the doctor. He thought there was something strange about her. She seemed too strong, too coherent. Her agreement not to go to the hospital fueled his suspicions.”
“You make too much out of nothing.” He took a wineglass out of the cupboard, avoiding eye contact with Rolf. Why won’t Rolf leave it alone? He uncorked the bottle and examined the cork closely. “She’s a doctor. She knew panicking would only make it worse, and she kept her head about her—an attractive feature for a mate.”
“A mate? You aren’t seriously considering taking her blood?”
Henry placed the cork on the counter and picked up the bottle. “She has a certain appeal. I’m exploring my options,” he said, and sniffed the bottle’s opening.
“Just fuck her and get it over with. We both know you can’t control your jealousy—you have no business taking any woman for your mate.”
He stared at the opening of the wine bottle, his vision a red blur. “Rolf, you’re pushing the bounds of our friendship.”
“I call it as I see it. Or have you forgotten what you did when Nathaniel poached—”
“Do not say it,” he shot back, his hands clenching the wine bottle.
“Put that down and talk with me, damn it.”
Henry caught the movement out of the corner of his eye. Rolf reached for the wine bottle and yanked. How dare he? Henry held tightly to the bottle’s neck, his eyes now focused on Rolf’s.
“Release it,” Henry demanded.
Rolf didn’t. Instead, he pulled on the bottle again.
Hot anger flooded through Henry at Rolf’s impudence. He twisted the bottle to break Rolf’s hold and instead fractured the thick green glass, leaving him holding the neck, while Rolf grasped the bottom. The cool liquid hit his legs—his tan pants were now drenched in red wine.
“You should not have done that.” He drew his lip back and bared his fangs, rotating the neck of the bottle in his hand, using i
t like a sword, the jagged edge facing Rolf. He brought one foot forward en garde. “This conversation is over. Leave.”
“Not until I talk some sense into you,” Rolf said through his fangs, jabbing the broken bottle bottom toward him.
“I have no desire to draw first blood on you, but I will if you don’t leave.” Henry circled the air again with the neck’s jagged edge. “You have no right to question who I date. I said nothing when you started dating Karen.”
“You were already with Erin.”
“I would be still, if you had done what you promised and left me a vial of your blood. Instead you rushed off to San Diego.”
Rolf froze. “How long are you going to hold it over my head? I told you—Karen forgot to leave it in your mailbox.”
“Do you know how I felt, looking for it and finding nothing? Knowing Erin would see Anne-Louise’s mark without your blood to heal it. I returned home, hoping Erin would still be asleep for the night, only to find her waiting up for me. Do you have any idea what that moment was like?”
“You can’t keep blaming me—you could’ve told Erin the truth.”
“Truth? What do you know of truth, with the secrets you keep?”
“I’m not the only one with secrets. Have you been truthful with Cerissa? Does she know what you really are?”
“She knows all she needs to know.” He held his ground, his half of the bottle’s jagged end still pointed at Rolf. “You ask me to be honest, but have you told Karen the truth, the real reason you rush off to San Diego?”
“Do not go there—”
“Admit the truth, Rolf. You are—” Before he could finish, Rolf lunged at him, aiming the broken bottle bottom at his chest. He dodged and, blocking Rolf’s arm with his, slid the edge of his wrist along Rolf’s arm, deflecting the sharp glass away from them both. He hooked Rolf’s ankle with his foot while grabbing Rolf’s shoulder, and forced his junior partner to his knees, the moves automatic from years of practice with Yacov. The bottle half Rolf had held went skittering across the floor.