When he ran out of obscenities, he started listing all the things he hated: his boss for forcing him to do this job on his own, the cold for making him miserable, and the twinkling Christmas lights just because. And, oh yeah, he hated anyone who would prey on young teenagers. Lately, several young men in this area of Seattle had been reported missing, and no one knew how many of the runaways had also disappeared.
He hated that, too.
Down the street a moth-eaten Santa rang his brass bell for all he was worth. Eagan took perverse pleasure in the obnoxious sound it made. Bells were supposed to chime; this one clunked. It suited his mood, so he dropped a twenty in the old elf’s bucket and kept walking.
The next turn brought him back to where he’d begun. For what seemed like the hundredth time in the past three nights, he paused to stare at the late-night diner across the street. Originally, it had drawn his attention because it looked way too warm and cozy, two things he usually avoided. Red-checkered tablecloths and lace curtains made his skin crawl, but tonight he’d put up with them if it meant he could get warm.
The place certainly drew an odd mix of people. Some were holiday shoppers. Others probably had trouble scraping together enough change to buy a cup of regular coffee much less the lattes advertised in the diner window.
There were even a few nonhumans mixed in the bunch. As usual the regular folks were blissfully unaware that some of their neighbors drank blood for dinner or sprouted fur and fangs come the full of the moon.
Right now the real object of his interest was standing at the counter and smiling at a pair of teenagers who’d just strutted into the diner as if they owned the place. Eagan recognized trouble when he saw it and automatically reached for the gun stuck in the waistband of his jeans. At the first sign of violence, he’d charge across the street to save the day even if it blew his cover. The lieutenant was already mad at him; one more transgression wouldn’t make much of a difference.
But in a matter of seconds, the diner’s owner had the two punks sitting at the counter with big sloppy grins on their faces with two hot drinks and pie in front of them. Problem solved. Amazing. He would’ve bet on the pair being armed and after some fast cash.
He didn’t yet know the owner’s name, only that she had a smile for every customer who walked through the door. As if sensing his gaze, she glanced in his direction. He swore he could feel her warmth all the way across to where he stood shivering in the cold.
Tamping down his brief adrenaline rush, Eagan considered his options. Maybe he should’ve accepted the flask his two-natured partner, Duncan, had offered him before leaving the precinct house. A stiff shot of straight whiskey would taste good about now, a bit of antifreeze for his veins.
He could make another lap around the block and hope that would warm up his blood while he hunted for any sign of his target’s presence in the area. Or he could simply call it a night.
He glanced across the street again. Okay, so there was another option. Without even realizing he’d made a decision, he stepped off the curb and headed straight for the diner door.
DARN IT, THAT GUY HAD CAUGHT her staring! Della Breit’s hand shot up to check her hair. Stupid, she knew. Nothing controlled her unruly curls, especially when she was working. Lipstick might have helped, but there was no time to slip out of sight long enough to apply some without being obvious about it.
She wished she’d worn something a little fancier than one of her holiday T-shirts. Tonight’s version was festooned with giggling snowmen dancing around a Christmas tree.
“Hey, Della! More coffee?”
She forced her attention away from the man outside and back to the one sitting in the corner booth. Old Harry usually only stopped in for a hot cup of coffee and a bowl of soup, all he could afford on his small pension. Tonight, though, with the temperature outside unusually cold for Seattle, she’d insisted he stay longer and eat a full meal before heading back to his apartment.
Harry hated any hint of charity. If he insisted, she’d let him work off the difference in price crushing boxes and tossing them in the recycle bin out back. With his arthritis, she hated to let him do even that much, but she understood pride.
The bell over the door chimed, playing a quick chorus of sleigh bells. She refilled Harry’s decaf before turning to greet the newcomer. When she realized who it was, she almost dropped the carafe on the floor. Biting back a curse, she pasted on a bright smile as she turned to face the hard-eyed stranger who’d been standing across the street.
“Hi! Pick any spot and I’ll bring you a menu and a cup of coffee.”
He didn’t say a word, responding only with a quick nod before heading over to the table next to the front window, which afforded him a clear view of the diner as well as the street outside. Somehow she doubted his choice was random.
He also kept on his long, leather duster as he stretched his legs out under the table with a grimace. His hand massaged his lower right thigh, kneading the thick muscle as if it were cramping.
She caught herself flexing her fingers and imagining what it would feel to slide her own hand over that tight denim. As if sensing her gaze, he slowly turned to glare at her from across the room. His eyebrows drew down low over his icy-blue eyes making it clear that her interest wasn’t appreciated.
Della, get your head back in the game.
Embarrassed at getting caught watching him again, she broke off the connection and focused instead on snagging a menu while she waited for the fresh pot of coffee to finish brewing. When it was done, she took an indirect route toward the table by the window, stopping to top off a few other cups along the way.
When she finally reached his table, she toned her smile down a notch, aiming instead for efficient and businesslike. She held out the menu and filled his cup and tried to think of something to say.
“Cream and sugar are already on the table.”
Like he couldn’t see that for himself. What was it about this guy that had her so badly rattled?
“I’ll be back to take your order in a couple of minutes.”
He waved the menu away. “No need. All I want is coffee. I’ve already fed.”
What an odd way to put it.
“Fine. Let me know if you change your mind or maybe want some dessert. The pie is homemade and the muffins are fresh out of the oven.”
She walked away, fighting the urge to look back. When she returned to her usual spot behind the counter, he was sipping his coffee and staring out the window. Even in profile, he was striking-looking although it was obvious his nose had been broken on at least one occasion.
She bet that it wasn’t a sports injury, either, although she had no idea why she thought that. Something about the guy just screamed loner, and the image of him being a team player just wouldn’t come into focus.
A movement over near the register caught her eye, dragging her attention back to those two teenagers who’d come in earlier. Great. One had his hand in the tip jar. For her own part, she didn’t care, but her staff depended on that money to help make ends meet.
“Gentlemen, do you need change for a dollar?”
The kid froze and then slowly withdrew his hand from the jar still clutching a handful of bills. Darn it, she thought the free coffee and pie had convinced the two not to cause trouble. So much for playing nice.
“I’m sorry, but put that money back and leave.” Della kept her voice even, injecting a note of quiet authority in it.
It didn’t work. One of the kids sneered and dipped his hand back in the jar. Fine, if it meant that they’d just leave, but she knew better. If she blinked now, they’d be back again for more.
“I said put the money back and leave, boys. I’d rather not call the police.” Like they’d bother to respond to a petty theft at this hour of the night.
Meanwhile, his buddy joined the conversation, his hand sliding into the pocket of his jacket. “That’s not happening. While we’re at it, we want what you’ve got in the register, too. Put it in the j
ar now, and we’ll leave all peaceable like.”
Did he actually have a weapon or did he just want her to think so? She couldn’t take the chance, not with a roomful of customers. As soon as she backed up a step, the boys knew they’d won. She opened the register.
They both stood up, ready to grab the jar and run. “Smart woman. You don’t want to tangle with us.”
“And you two don’t want to tangle with me.”
Della was so intent on keeping the confrontation from escalating, she didn’t notice someone else had joined the party.
Duster guy grabbed both of the boys and shoved them up against the wall, his hands wrapped around their throats and squeezing just hard enough to make it difficult for them to breathe.
His voice was deep, his words devoid of any emotion and all the more effective for it. “Now, put the money back and apologize to the lady, and we’ll call it even.”
He let the one loose who’d raided the tip jar.
The kid started to say something, but one look at his much-scarier opponent had him nodding like a bobble-head doll. When he dropped the cash back in the jar, her rescuer released the second one. He made a show of straightening the kid’s jacket and then brushing some imaginary dust off his shoulder.
“Apologize,” he repeated.
Their heads both swiveled in Della’s direction. “Sorry, ma’am. We was only kidding around.”
She accepted both the apology and the lie. They weren’t sorry; they were scared. Fine. Anything to get them out of her diner. Before they made it to the door, the man had one more thing to say.
“And boys, cause the lady any more problems, and we’ll dance, just the three of us.”
They both swallowed hard and fought to be the first one out the door. She watched to make sure they kept going. When they were out of sight, she turned around, intending to thank her hero. He was already back at his table doing the crossword puzzle someone had left behind and acting as if nothing had even happened.
Okay, she got it. The man didn’t want her gratitude or a fuss made over what he’d done. That didn’t make him any less of a hero in her eyes. She’d honor his desire for privacy, but maybe he’d at least accept a refill on his coffee instead.
CHAPTER TWO
ALL RIGHT, that was stupidity to the nth degree, Eagan thought. So much for blending in. There was no way that woman or any of her regulars would forget him anytime soon.
Especially the lady herself—Della, according to her name tag. Even before those two punks got caught ripping off the tip jar, she’d been way too interested in him. Now there was no way Eagan could continue to patrol this area without her noticing him. He’d have to come up with some excuse to hang around that held more weight than just a craving for hot coffee.
Hell, under other circumstances he might have even taken her up on what those big brown eyes were offering. Just the thought of what she could serve up with that generous mouth was enough to have his cock sitting up and begging.
Yeah, right. Who was he fooling? Even if he wasn’t an undercover cop, he was a vampire. Somehow he doubted she’d be willing to add fresh blood to the list of daily specials.
No, far better that sweet, innocent Della remain happily unaware of the supernaturals whose world occasionally bumped up against hers. He looked up from the crossword puzzle that he had no real interest in. Della was chatting with the wolf bitch seated in the corner booth when she leaned over to look at something the redhead was showing her. Damn, the way those faded jeans cupped that sweet ass should be outlawed. The wolf caught his scent, her eyes briefly flashing gold and angry. Clearly she did not like him paying attention to her friend’s lush attributes. He considered flashing his fangs at her, but restrained himself—barely. There was no use in antagonizing the local pack, especially in front of the unsuspecting humans. He tipped his head to acknowledge the warning but lifted his upper lip to briefly reveal the tip of his fangs.
Her eyes sparked gold again. Message received. He turned his attention back to the crossword puzzle. Four across, three letters. Santa’s helper. He rolled his eyes. Was he the only one who was already tired of the tinsel and twinkle lights? Evidently. He neatly filled in the boxes with e-l-f and moved on.
He was reaching for his coffee when he finally spotted some action across the street. A pair of males in black hoodies were double-timing it down the sidewalk with a smaller guy between them. There was no indication he was there under duress, but he appeared to be purely human. His companions definitely weren’t.
Even if it turned out to be nothing, it was time to go anyway. Eagan tossed back the last of his coffee before heading up to the register to pay his bill. However, when he reached inside his coat for his wallet, it wasn’t there.
What the hell? Had one of those punks lifted it when Eagan had them pinned against the wall? No, he would’ve noticed. He closed his eyes and thought back to when he’d last seen it. For sure he’d had it with him earlier when he’d bought coffee on his way to the precinct.
One look down at his well-worn jeans and faded sweatshirt gave him the answer. He’d changed into street clothes before going on the prowl. No doubt his wallet was in his leather bomber jacket, the one he didn’t wear while on the job. He muttered a curse and checked to see how much change he had: two quarters and four pennies.
“Is there a problem?”
Eagan looked up from the motley collection of coins and lint he’d pulled out of his pocket. “I left my wallet in my other jacket, ma’am.”
And how lame did that sound? Della’s dark eyes were sympathetic, as if finding a customer was a bit short on money was a common occurrence.
“Considering what you did earlier, the coffee is on the house. And it’s Della, not ma’am.” Her smile was gentle when she dropped her voice and said, “If being short on funds is why you didn’t eat anything, I’d be glad to spot you a hot meal.”
“I’m not hungry, but I appreciate your offer.”
Not unless she was talking about a quick hit off that pulsing artery at the side of her neck, the only kind of meal he was interested in at the moment. Even then, he’d want to be someplace a whole lot more private and with a lot fewer clothes on.
Still, he needed to maintain his current persona of a down-on-his-luck day laborer. “I’ll drop by with the money for the coffee tomorrow night after I get paid.”
The perfect excuse to return and not even a lie.
“Really, it’s okay. You don’t have to, mister.”
She emphasized that last word, obviously hinting for something else to call him. He surprised himself by answering her unspoken question with his real name.
“It’s Eagan, and yeah, I do.” Then he dropped the change in the tip jar and walked out into the night.
“Happy holidays!” she called after him.
He pretended not to hear.
Outside, Eagan shoved his hands in his pockets and stalked off down the street. There was nothing happy about the holidays, not for him and not for the local teenagers being lured into a web of deceit and death. Several bodies had been found, mutilated and drained of blood. There’d been no solid leads so far, only rumors and hints that there was someone new on the scene. Based on the nature of the attacks, that someone wasn’t human. No one wanted that truth to make the evening news, and it was Eagan’s job to make sure that didn’t happen by putting a stop to the deaths and taking out the bastard behind them.
He fought down the wave of rage that threatened his control. No one deserved to suffer and die the way those kids had. There would be a reckoning and the guilty would be dealt with. He just wished that would be the end of it, but there was always another killer waiting in the wings. He should know. He’d spent decades hunting down predators and eliminating them. Always the same dance of death, one that played on and on.
Eagan waited until he was at the far end of the block before crossing over to the other corner in case Della was watching where he was going. The last thing he needed was for her
to poke that cute little nose in his business. He stopped to taste the night air, hoping to pick up the trail left by those two supers and their human companion. Nothing.
They had to have gone to ground somewhere close by. He studied the area in all directions. No hint of any movement anywhere. All he could do was circle the block again and hope he got lucky. If not, he’d call it a night and try again tomorrow.
DELLA BUSSED THE LAST FEW tables herself. One of her usual helpers hadn’t shown up for work and hadn’t called. She’d learned long ago not to let herself worry too much about that sort of thing, but she couldn’t seem to help herself when it came to Daniel Cortez. Hopefully he’d check in before she turned the lights off.
Daniel’s home situation was complicated, thanks to an absentee father and a mother who often took extra jobs cleaning offices to make ends meet. When that happened, Daniel stayed home to watch over his younger siblings. With that thought in mind, she packed up some of the leftovers from the daily special so she could send them home with him in the event he came by.
She looked outside, telling herself it was Daniel she was looking for even though she knew better. Not seeing anyone out there, she turned off the neon Open sign but left the twin Christmas wreaths in the front windows plugged in, liking their soft glow in the night. Her last few customers started for the door. On her way out, Lupe stopped to talk.
“You watch out for him, Della. He’s trouble.”
At first Della thought her friend was talking about Daniel, but then Lupe glanced toward the table by the front window. Oh, Eagan, not Daniel. Well, tell her something she didn’t know.
“That was his first time here. Considering how embarrassed he was about not being able to pay for his coffee, I doubt I’ll see him again anytime soon.”
Lupe stepped closer. “But he promised to come back with the money, didn’t he? He wants something. A man like him has no reason to be hanging around a place like this.”
A Vampire for Christmas Page 24