by Mary Hughes
It really didn’t bear thinking about. If he’d been a normal human being, if his friend Nikos hadn’t been a two-thousand-year-old vampire willing to sacrifice everything for her, she’d be dead, and possibly her baby with her.
Twyla had the right idea. Life was too short to love with anything less than full speed ahead.
If the person was right for you.
As Elena ate, she told us what had happened. I knew most of it from Ric’s investigation but let her talk. Twyla and I weren’t the only ones at risk for PTSD. It was important for Elena to work out her traumatic experience at her own pace.
“After Bo dug in, I went to check the trolls. They’d been acting strange.” She spooned up some gelatin. “Hey, this is good for congealed horse hooves.”
“Eat your soup too, Detective.” Bo picked up a spoon and dipped up a bit, making sure to capture a cube of chicken meat, and held it to her lips. “Chicken noodle. Vitamin C. Good protein.”
“Yes dear.” She gave him a slight smile and sipped. “Anyway, I’d barely gotten to the cabin when out they came, carrying what looked suspiciously like a body wrapped in a black tarp. So I followed. They got to a clearing in the woods, set it down and started arguing about where to dig the hole. While they were distracted, I checked the tarp out. Sure enough, it was a guy, hands and feet tied, shot through the head. Suspicious death, burial in the woods. Well, I had to act.”
“You didn’t have to, Detective.” Bo’s voice and face were stern but his hand, feeding her more soup, was slow and gentle.
“Of course I did. I’m a cop.”
“Off duty.”
“We’re never off duty.” She pointed to the gelatin cup. He spooned a bite for her. After she ate it she went on. “I drew my gun and told them they were under arrest. They jumped me. I got a shot off but, well, there’s him.” She nodded down at her raised belly. “My body’s kinda unwieldy. I fought back but not very effectively. They disarmed me.”
She set down her cup. “Then they slashed me.” Her hand reached for Bo’s. She swallowed hard as her husband’s strong fingers circled hers and squeezed gently. “I was so worried. They ran off with the body, the proof, but for the first time I wasn’t thinking about the criminals getting away. I was worried about my baby. Whether he was okay. Oh God.” She stared at the wall but the sheen of her eyes said she was seeing a more horrific scene. “I would have done anything to make sure he was okay.”
I put a hand on her arm. “The baby’s fine. I checked myself. He’s fine.”
“Yes.” She drew a deep breath through her nostrils, let it out slowly. Her eyes came back to us, but she didn’t release her husband’s hand. “While I lay there, the blood must have drawn the rogue. A fledgling, barely turned.” She glanced at Bo. “We have to look into that. Whether he simply wandered into the area, or if there’s someone turning vampires here.” Releasing his hand, she picked up her spoon and started eating with more vigor. “The last thing I remember is you all showing up and telling me the baby was okay. That was what I was waiting for, hanging on for. Once I knew he was okay, I let go.”
Battle-ready Elena, more concerned for her child. That told me how much she loved her baby, her husband. Made me think maybe, if I got out of this alive, there were worse things on the planet than making a life with Ric.
And if I didn’t get out alive, I’d at least make sure the picture—and thus Ric—was safe.
We ate the rest of our lunch in silence. I was thinking about Chicken Little and the painting; Twyla, from her sad face, was thinking about Nikos; and Elena was just eating, pragmatically going about the job of regaining her strength.
But when she finished, she set one hand on her distended belly and touched Bo with the other. He put both hands over hers; over their child.
I knew then that I was doing the right thing. Even if I had to throw away fairness and self-respect.
When Twyla and I emerged from Elena’s room, the living room shades were drawn and Ric was sitting in a chair. His eyes followed me as I took the dishes to the sink. I’d been hoping I could just walk out, but from his narrowed gaze, that wasn’t happening. Ric suspected I was going to try something—which I was, but I wished I didn’t have to.
I wished I could stay snuggled up in bed with him all day. Nibbling his jaw, licking the curve of his chest, testing the weight of him in my hand—maybe making a few dreams come true.
Instead I nodded at Twyla as I set our stuff in the sink. Twyla pretended to notice the full kitchen garbage—the one she’d filled up earlier with every bit of trash she could find. She pulled the plastic liner out and tied it off, then lugged it to the back door.
Where she stopped, seemingly stymied. “Hey, Synnove. Can you open the door for me?”
She could have opened it herself—Twyla is nothing if not resourceful—but that was our ruse. “Sure,” I said brightly, too brightly. I winced and had to bite my cheek not to glance at Ric to see if he was buying it.
“What’s going on?” Suspicion edged his words.
That answered that. Never try to sell a salesperson.
“Nothing.” Suppressing the urge to whistle tunelessly, I sauntered to the kitchen door, a combination main door and screen door. I opened the first inward, then took the handle of the screen and walked it open, pretending I needed to do that to get out of Twyla’s way.
Which put me outside.
Twyla lugged the trash out toward the garbage and recycling. I let the screen go and started casually toward the car, pulling my keys from my pants pocket.
Ric’s face slammed into the screen. “What are you doing?”
I jumped. My keys jangled and my heart goosed into my throat. “Just forgot my purse…in the car.” Actually Twyla had put it there earlier when she’d stowed her 4G tablet that Ric had preset with Little’s transfers and reparked the car front end out for a fast getaway. I grinned at him, trying for unconcerned and, from his snarl, failing miserably. I backed nervously toward my sedan.
The screen door clicked open.
Damn it, it was a bright, sunny day. From what Twyla had told me and from what I’d seen of vampires smoked by the sun, Ric would burn up soon after he hit that sunlight. I’d had coffee spilled on me once and burns are painful with a capital P, as in Picture-getting-your-face-ripped-off. My skin screamed at me for days—and since the skin is the largest organ in the body, that’s a mess of screaming. I didn’t want that for Ric.
My nonchalance broke and I ran for the driver’s door, frantically hitting the unlock button on the way. I yanked the door open and leaped in. Twyla dropped the trash and spun for the cabin. She made it two steps.
Ric’s roar, and the bang of the door thrown wide with such force that it shattered into a pile of kindling, are sounds that will remain with me for the rest of my life. I fumbled the key into the ignition and cranked the engine.
Just as Ric thudded against the car frame.
Chapter Twenty-two
I stomped the accelerator. Tires spun, kicking up grass and dirt. Ric got his hand on the driver’s door handle…just as the tires caught purchase.
I sped out of there. Ric shouted but I ignored him to blast toward the bridge. I glanced in the rearview. Ric wasn’t there. I slowed to take the bridge.
A spume of dirt kicked up into the air behind me, Ric pursuing at jet speed. I jumped so hard I nearly smacked my head on the roof.
Ric slammed into the trunk. “Synnove!” His roar was full of pain. “What. The. Fuck?”
Hitting the accelerator, I drove my foot through the floor and tore over the bridge, my heart hammering so hard it rattled my ribcage. My lungs were heaving like organ bellows. I never drove so fast. I took the hook by the main house at thirty, spitting gravel, and hit blacktop going forty.
I dared a glance in the rearview.
Nothing there.
As I drove, the rearview stayed empty. My heart decelerated from sheer panic to merely scared bunny, but it took a while. It wasn’t until I g
ot to the Interstate that I felt safe enough to stop and fasten my seatbelt. But then it hit me. I’d done it. I’d gotten out of there without my vampire.
Without my protection. I could only hope humans were as capable as I thought we were.
When I got to Holiday Buzz I parked in the underground lot. Rosie and Harry were waiting for me. Holding hands. When Rosie saw me she blushed and slid her hand from his paw. With a growl, he snatched it back.
“It’s okay,” I said. “In fact, I think it’s kinda sweet.”
Rosie’s cheeks turned bright red. Oddly, so did Harry’s.
In the lobby, the guard waved us over. “Mr. Little asked me to tell you he’s waiting around the corner at the Buzz Annex for you.” He pointed to the right.
Rosie and I exchanged a look. I said, “Thanks. We’ll head over.”
We went out the front door, silent. On the sidewalk, Rosie said, “This doesn’t feel right. Dr. Byornsson, I think you should reconsider.”
“I can’t. It’s already three o’clock.”
Harry grimaced. “I hope you know what you’re doing.”
“Sure. Meet Chicken Little. Negotiate.” A.k.a flash some cleavage. “Take the painting. Simple.”
“What could possibly go wrong?” Rosie said brightly.
Harry growled. “Now it’s a trap for sure.”
“Yeah,” I said. “Doesn’t matter. I have to do this, or at least try.” I passed under a sign reading Buzz Annex and pushed through the door.
We entered a pleasant pub restaurant with a large bar, wood floors and plenty of table seating, much of it already filled. “Maybe this won’t be so bad. At least there are a lot of witnesses.”
To my right, a neat young man stood at the host station. “Ms. Byornsson? Your party is upstairs in our private dining area. I’m to take you.” He paused and eyed Rosie and Harry. “Only you, Ms. Byornsson.”
The fine hair on my neck rose. “I need them with me.”
“One moment.” The young man clicked an earbud. “I’ve been instructed that if anyone comes up but you, your meeting is cancelled. Next, please.”
“Damn it, wait. Give me a minute.” I glanced at the pair. “I’m going up.”
Rosie’s worried eyes searched mine. “Dr. Byornsson, you can’t.”
“I don’t see much choice.” I handed Rosie the 4G tablet. “This will give me a reason to call you up. If I’m not back in half an hour, send out the troops.”
“Right,” Harry said. “The Troops.” His disgust was plain.
I nodded at the young man and smiled. “Okay, take me up.”
“You’ve made the right choice.” The young man smiled back. Tiny fangs flashed.
Yup. It was a trap.
Still, Little wanted the money and stock, so I had some leverage. Backup was a mere floor away. I had the Stealth Top. Conditions would never get better. I followed the young man/vampire up a return style staircase to the second floor.
It was cooler here in the hushed hallway lined with springy red paisley carpet, muted red wallpaper and wall lights with glass chimneys meant to look like oil lamps. Despite that, my skin tingled with perspiration.
Four doors lined the hallway, all to the left, and all closed. He opened the first. “Your party.”
I entered. No lights in here so I only got a few steps in before I faltered.
“Well finally.”
A light clicked on. Charles Little lounged behind a white linen covered banquet table, smirking at me. The little electric table lamp gave the small chamber a romantic glow. I wasn’t feeling it.
Image, Synnove. I strolled toward him. “Here I am.”
Little’s face flushed with victory. “Here we are. Just you and me.” He giggled.
I’d heard that sound once before, on my psych ward rotation. My shoulders tightened at that mindless giggle. Maybe Camille had done more than seduce him at the meeting. Maybe she’d done some vampire mind control thing that mushified his brain.
And wouldn’t that make a dandy medical specialty practice?
No, no. I was reconsidering medicine, and life in general. Assuming I had a life after this, because the bad feeling of Trap had escalated through nerve-jangling TRAP to You idiot what part of TRAP don’t you get, the big teeth or the bone crunching when it snaps?
But I kept my limbs relaxed and my attitude casual. “Yep.” I started whistling, tunelessly, while surreptitiously checking out the area. “Just you and me. Noooo surprises.”
“It’s a good thing you left your friends downstairs. If you hadn’t, I’d have had to—take care of them.” His voice turned ugly, brutal.
I suppressed a shiver. As casually as I could I said, “One problem. I left the tablet to transfer your stock and money with my friends. I need to bring them up.”
“No.”
“Yes.” For Ric. With a deep breath I popped the top snap. “Bring them up.”
“Maybe.” Little’s eyes riveted to my hands.
I thumbed open another couple snaps, then played with the neckline until his eyes glazed a bit. “At least bring Rosie up to transfer your stock and money.” I unsnapped another two snaps, exposing a frill of black lace—and a whole lot of cleavage. “As soon as I have the painting, that is.”
“Well…I don’t know. I’m not supposed to.” His eyes narrowed and some intelligence crept back in.
Time to bring out bigger guns. I gritted my teeth and shimmied. My breasts wiggled like mounds of gelatin. “Bring Rosie up and we’ll trade. After which, well. Two women. Maybe you know what to do with us.” Bay-bee.
His mouth fell open. His gaze reglazed.
“But first, the painting.” I popped another two snaps, exposing bra cups. The bra’s tiny front clasp was conveniently nestled between. “You’re going to give me that portrait. Now.” I fingered the closure, contemplating the horrors of total exposure to Chicken Little.
“Well…maybe…”
I closed my eyes and thought of England. Or in this case, Ric. I twisted the bra open.
His eyes fell out of his head. “W…wow!”
The top was too tight and I hadn’t actually revealed nipples but my cleavage surged and he was totally concentrating on me. “The picture. Now.”
“Okay.”
And I suddenly understood the power some women get from the act of stripping. Triumph made me glow. I’d been limiting myself to other people’s notions of respect. Trashing my doctorly dignity liberated me from caring about what faceless “other people” thought. I knew the human body more thoroughly than most people know their neighbors—and breasts, frankly, are cool.
Fuck Beauty. The Beast had all the fun. I shimmied again. “Where is it?”
“It’s in one of the other—huh?”
Little’s shirt went taut, as if yanked from below. His gaze slid down his body. He swallowed hard. “No. Money and stock first.”
Damn. I grabbed material to peel back to ground zero. Time to let my inner beastie roar. “Painting first. Non-negotiable.”
“It’s a stupid picture.”
My hands stilled. He wasn’t talking to me.
In fact the direction of both Chicken Little’s gaze and his comments were directed to his, um, Little Chicken. “Why the fuss over a stupid ugly dwarf—ouch!” He leaped to his feet, chair tumbling. His shirt tail hung over naked hairy legs. “You bit me!”
My neck iced and my scalp prickled. Little was not alone.
She rose from beneath the table, licking fangs, like a blood-sucking Venus.
Camille.
“Darling. You can’t insult my boss that way.” She twisted Little’s tie playfully—until he went ack-ack-ack. Transferring her smile to me, she looked me up and down. “Hello, bitch. You can put those away.” She pointed at my black-lace cupped breasts. “They’re not as impressive as you think.”
Ouch. So much for letting my inner beast play. Although why believe Camille, such a pack of total honking lies? Ric liked ‘em. “Hello, asswipe.”
/>
Her face darkened. “You’ll pay for that.”
“Talk about hoary and irrelevant.” I rolled my eyes. “That smarmy dialogue went out in the nineteen fifties. You’re the real picture thief, aren’t you?”
“Naturally. This minion—” her smile curled cruelly as she twisted Little’s tie so tight he rose to his toes, “—didn’t have the brains to steal it by himself.”
Little’s face darkened and choking sounds started coming from his throat.
He was a dick, but I didn’t want him dead. I measured my chances of leaping over the table and taking her out before she throttled him completely. Not close enough. I needed to keep her talking while I edged nearer. “So why the exercise in humiliation yesterday?”
“Well I didn’t have the portrait then, did I? Besides, it was such fun crushing you.” She smirked.
I inched closer. “Yeah, you’re top dog. How did you manage to break into the company safe?”
“This one has his uses. He knew the combination.” She yanked the tie like a leash and dragged him from the table just as I got within striking distance.
Little’s lips turned blue.
My hands tightened into fists. “If he’s useful, don’t you think you should let him go before he keels?”
“Well…” She gave a final yank to the tie. Little’s eyes rolled back into his head and he went limp. She released the tie and he dropped with a whump. “I’m done with him anyway.” She sauntered off.
I skirted the table. Little was sprawled on the floor, breath rasping. I knelt and loosened his tie. His breathing eased and his color flooded back. Tension in my shoulders relaxed slightly.
I stood and shot Camille a glare. “Where’s the portrait?”
A sly smile crossed her face. “I’m so glad you asked. There are four private rooms on this floor, connected by a public hallway in the front and a serviceway in the rear.” She pointed back to a second darkened doorway I hadn’t seen. “The painting is in one of those rooms.”