by Jess Haines
The police were hindered by procedure. I doubted they had solid proof of Chaz’s connection to the murders of those people who had been suspected of being infected with lycanthropy outside of contracts, other than what Jim Pradiz had provided only a few weeks before. Since the cops might not yet have thought to use banking or credit card activity to track him down, or even bothered getting started on looking for him when he wasn’t necessarily implicated as a suspect, the wait to get a search warrant approved for credit card records could take a while. Not only that, but the credit card company had up to ten days once they were served to supply the records. Theoretically, that could drag out beyond the end of the month, if the cops even thought to go that route to find him.
Chaz received his bank statements via e-mail. I’d seen him check one, once, using his computer at home. He’d set up his system to automatically download his e-mails without a password. If his computer was still there, there might be an e-mail trail or something in his bank statements that would lead me to him.
I did some mental calculations, picking up the bottle of vodka as I rose and headed back to my room. From my recollection, he wouldn’t be getting that e-mail from his bank for another few days. Painful to wait, but I could manage. In the meantime, I’d return to Chaz’s gym and do a search for the next best thing.
It was about time Kimberly and I had a reckoning.
Chapter 10
(Days left to full moon: 17)
There is nothing quite like going on a bender when your life is on the line.
I woke up with a taste in my mouth like something had crawled in there to die, my joints still burning with the fire of a thousand suns, and a jackhammer pounding its way out of my skull. Not to mention a queasiness that rivaled the one time Sara and I had bought one of those big box taco deals from some fast food joint after a night of beer and karaoke—which I’m never doing again, thanks—coupled with a fierce craving for something sweet and full of carbs. Pancakes smothered in syrup and butter sounded like both an awesome and disgusting idea right about now. Belgian waffles would be even better.
Odd. Breakfast for me usually meant coffee and some eggs or yogurt and granola.
Putting my cravings down to a side effect from the drinking, I rubbed my temples and sat up with a groan. The shade over the window was pulled, and it seemed too dark in the room. Turning on the lamp at my bedside was a horrible idea. Pain instantly shot from my retinas all the way to the back of my skull, making the pounding worse.
Getting up to shamble over to the bathroom seemed like a good idea until I stood up. The swaying and the dizziness wasn’t fun, but it passed after I gave myself a moment to adjust.
Splashing my face at the tap helped marginally. Rinsing away the taste of roadkill and drinking a little cold water helped more. Though I still squinted against the lights, I felt much better, more refreshed.
Throwing on some clothes, I gave the belt a passing glance, curled as it was on top of the dresser like a snake poised to strike. Putting it on could wait until tonight.
My muscles protested the stairs, but I made it to the kitchen in good time considering I was walking like someone had wound barbed wire through all the joints in my legs. The pain and soreness eased away by the time I got to the bottom.
Strangely, the scent of Italian food—tomatoes and oregano, garlic and parmesan—drifted my way long before I opened the door. Jack and Nikki were puttering around, doing dishes, and clearing things off the table, counters, and stove. Bo and Keith were at the table, picking at bowls of ice cream, Keith’s nose buried in a book. Clearly I’d just missed a big meal.
Nikki smirked at me over her shoulder before shoving a container into the fridge. “Sleeping beauty’s awake.”
Jack glanced my way, then went back to rinsing out a big pot. Bo and Keith waved me over, and I edged past Nikki and Jack to sit with them. Bo pushed a bowl and a container of cookie dough ice cream my way. It wasn’t waffles, but it would do.
“What the hell time is it? How long was I out?”
Keith shrugged. “It’s a little past 8:30. Nikki said she found the empty bottle of Grey Goose on the dresser. We all thought it’d be better to let you sleep it off.”
I turned about six shades of red, covering my face with my hands. Bo and Nikki laughed at me. All I could think of was the day lost to me. The hours that could have been spent hunting. The ticking time bomb I was becoming.
“Don’t worry about it,” Bo said, elbowing me lightly to get me to stop hiding my face.
Still feeling like an ass, I kept my head down, pushing my hair back just enough so the curls wouldn’t fall into my bowl or stick to my spoon when I shoveled a bit into my mouth.
Speaking around the bite of sugary bliss, I shook my spoon at Jack. “I know you wanted to wait for news from your contacts in the city before we went back, but I need to go to SoHo. I’ve got an idea.”
Jack was not impressed with my spoon. “You realize that’s just asking for trouble, don’t you? Why don’t we send Bo or Patrick? The police and vampires aren’t looking for them.”
“Mostly because I know what I’m looking for. If we left now, it’d be dark, and I doubt anyone at Chaz’s gym knows what happened between us. Maybe I can bluff my way into his stuff and find some records that might help. Or see if anybody overheard where he went. The guys there know me, and they’re more likely to talk to me than somebody they’ve never met.”
He frowned at me, leaning his hip against the sink and scrubbing his chin absently despite the suds covering his fingers. The serious look in his eyes went so well with his soap beard, I couldn’t suppress a giggle.
Jack’s frown deepened, and he glanced at Nikki, who smirked as she reached over to flick his chin with a towel, getting rid of the worst of the suds. He then realized what he’d done and grabbed the towel from her to wipe his face. More’s the pity. For a second I had mistaken him for a human being instead of a machine sent back in time to prevent anyone from having a good time or a sense of humor.
“It’s risky,” he muttered, returning his attention to the sink. “You can go, but not alone. Take Nikki or Bo with you.”
Nikki scoffed. “Like hell I’m going anywhere at this hour. Not unless we’ve got a hunt.”
I turned to Bo, knowing my expression must have been pitiful already, hamming it up even more by widening my eyes and letting my lower lip tremble. His laughter boomed through the room, loudly enough that Keith glanced with raised brows from over the top of his novel.
“With a face like that, how could I resist? Let me polish this off, then we can go.”
Matching his grin with one of my own, I took a couple more bites of my own ice cream before rising. “I’m going to change into my gear. I’ll meet you at the car.”
Dashing upstairs, I forwent the body armor, but put on the belt and a very oversized sweater of Bo’s that hung low enough to hide the stakes and had to be rolled up a half-dozen times at the sleeves to leave my hands free. It would make access to the weapons difficult, and made me look like I had the fashion sense of a four-year-old, but I doubted anyone at the gym would care. I wasn’t planning on being there long, and the guys who knew me would probably assume I’d borrowed it from Chaz.
The belt took some time to examine my thoughts before it said anything, though it reveled in the exercise as I raced out of the room and down the stairs again. Keith dropped his book and flattened himself against the wall as I rushed past, and I barely remembered myself enough to throw a “Sorry!” over my shoulder before I was outside and breathing in the cold night air.
Bo was already warming up his car, a late model silver BMW. He took off as soon as I slid into the passenger seat, and I gave him directions to Chaz’s gym, thinking hard about where I might search first. He didn’t have an office, but he did have a cabinet with files on his clients near the front desk. Doubtless Kimberly’s information was somewhere in those files. If I could get whoever was manning it to let me check it, I’d be golde
n. If not, one of the guys might have overheard something, and I could interview whoever was around. It was open twenty-four hours, so depending on who had taken the night shift this time around, there was a good chance one of the employees would know where I could find her.
If not, Chaz had said her office was “next door” to his gym. There couldn’t be that many massage therapists with offices in that area. Process of elimination would serve just as well as digging up the info from Chaz’s files.
It didn’t take us long to get there. Traffic had died down for the most part by now, and we found a parking garage half a block from the building housing the Midtown Elite Fitness Center, not far from the Plaza District—or Royce’s main office. The sign for the gym was clearly visible even from halfway down the block. There were some other businesses in the building, too, including some boutiques and a café on the first floor, but that was to be expected in this part of town. Chaz had a nice brownstone in Queens, not terribly far from here. It made me wonder how many times he’d brought his “work” home with him, which must have pissed me off more than I’d realized, because the oh-shit handle above my door cracked under my fingers.
“Hey, lighten up over there. Did you break something?”
I let go of the handle and concentrated on the parking structure straight ahead, not meeting Bo’s concerned gaze as he glanced at me. “It’s fine. We’re almost there.”
Absently picking at the plastic now embedded in my palm, scowling more in anger than pain, I waited impatiently for Bo to find a spot and park the car. He’d barely come to a stop before I was out the door and moving.
“Shia, what the hell’s gotten into you? Hold up!”
I waited impatiently for Bo to reach my side, hooking my thumbs over the belt under my sweater and drumming my fingers against the leather. Though he didn’t often show signs of his earlier injury, his running days were long over, and when he tried anything faster than a brisk walk, he gained a limp. As he was sporting now while he hurried to catch up with me.
The belt chose that moment to make its first snide remark of the evening. ‘Why do we need him again? He’s just going to slow us down.’
Don’t you get started, I thought at it.
‘There’s nothing to start,’ it complained. ‘You’re doing boring reconnaissance crap. What do you need me for? I’d rather you had me on while you sit and watch those chick flicks of yours than do this wannabe gumshoe crap.’
Oh, for the love of—
“Are you okay?”
The concern in Bo’s voice snapped me out of my murderous thoughts. Forcing a smile, I hooked my arm through his, tilting my head up to give him my best innocent look. “I’m fine. Just a little concerned to be out in the open, that’s all. Let’s get this over with.”
‘The sooner the better.’
He shook his head but didn’t argue, and we made our way to street level. Gleaming towers of concrete and chrome loomed over us like giants in the dark, sharp edges and tinted glass lit by the advertisements and signs and headlights all around us. Even at this hour, the streets were packed with people, most headed to or coming from restaurants, bars, and nightclubs. This wasn’t the best part of town for nightlife in the city, but it had its charms.
We made our way toward Chaz’s building, but I was dragging my feet, looking around. Something felt... off.
Bo didn’t notice. He seemed cheerful enough to have me on his arm, and to go at whatever pace I chose. He didn’t argue when I paused in the middle of the sidewalk, though he did look down at me with mild surprise. The belt was practically thrumming with energy. Whatever was going on, it sensed it, too.
‘Were. Close. Keep scanning the street. It’s here somewhere.’
That sent a shiver of mixed fright and anticipation through me. I didn’t have my armor or my guns. Though I was fast with the belt, I wasn’t sure if I was ready to face a Were without any weapons but the stakes. Even if they were silver, I’d have to get far closer than was safe to use them—and, as far as I knew, Bo didn’t have any weapons on him at all.
But then I saw what the belt and I were looking for, and forgot all sense of caution.
Blond hair in a ponytail and body encased in a pink, Juicy Couture velour tracksuit set, that boyfriend-stealing, two-faced, anorexic bimbo of a cheating whore, Kimberly, was just leaving the building Bo and I had been headed toward. If not for his sudden pained cry, bringing her attention our way, I might have had the element of surprise on my side.
Thanks to my sudden, unthinking rage, my grip had tightened so much that I’d nearly broken the radius of his left forearm. Even after I realized he was in pain because of me, it took me a second to remember I was supposed to let go.
The noise he made drew the attention of Kimberly, along with that of most of the other people on the street around us. Her brown eyes, wide with alarm, met mine for a split second—narrowed with recognition and anger—and then she was running. Away from me.
I didn’t wait to see if Bo was okay. There was no time or room for second thoughts. With the help of the belt, I was after her, and wouldn’t stop until my hands were wet with her blood.
Snarling, I dodged pedestrians and kept my gaze locked on her fleeing back, every step bringing me inches closer to bringing her down.
Distantly—very distantly—I recognized the path she was taking. It would bring us right to Central Park. As a Sunstriker, she had to know that she was as good as dead if she didn’t change direction, and soon.
If I didn’t kill her, there was no doubt in my mind that the Moonwalkers would as soon as she set foot on their territory.
It only made me more determined to catch her first.
Chapter 11
The wind blew back my hair, and it probably outlined the weapons under the sweater, but I didn’t care. I knew my expression was scaring people almost as much as my inhuman speed. They dodged out of our way, making a path for us, which was good. With the way I was feeling, I wouldn’t have minded mowing a few of them down if it meant getting my hands on her that much sooner.
We cut across traffic, raced around and sometimes over cars, but the honking didn’t dissuade me, either.
Kimberly was moving fast, but I was catching up.
She ducked around a decorative pillar in front of a bank and screamed over her shoulder, “Leave me alone!”
It gave me the opportunity to close the distance. I almost managed to wrap a hand around her upper arm, but the velour slipped through my fingers and she was off again, sprinting for the opening into the Grand Army Plaza in Central Park up ahead.
Apparently she didn’t care whether she died at my hand or those of the Moonwalkers.
Though under normal circumstances I would happily have avoided any confrontation with Rohrik Donovan or his people, I wasn’t in any kind of mood to pander to the werewolves or their territorial ways. If I had to drag Kimberly out by the hair, I would. If I had to fight the whole goddamn pack to have my chance at killing her before they could, I would.
Kimberly ran like she knew murder was on my mind. Maybe she did. There was a sense of desperation to it, a touch of panic. Not the smooth, even strides of a predator. Likely she realized there was something more to me since she hadn’t left me behind, despite the fact that we’d run the course of several city blocks, and I wasn’t even winded—though I felt a sudden and rather strange craving for something sweet. The gnawing hunger wasn’t enough to distract me from my target. She moved like prey—and some sick, dark part of me liked it.
‘Move faster. Others are coming, I can feel it.’
The belt didn’t sound as excited as I felt. It didn’t matter. There weren’t as many people wandering around the park—we were now skirting the Pond, lights from distant buildings shimmering on the surface, with the zoo to our right—but there were a few dark bundles huddled on the benches overlooking the water. This wasn’t the time to be visiting Central Park if you had good intentions. Even this close to Fifth Avenue, the park was
dangerous, a hotbed of brutality and crime once the sun went down. Police and even the Moonwalker pack that claimed this park as their territory had been doing their best to clean it up, but thanks to decades of bad press, no one was surprised to hear about a rape, a mugging, or a murder on the verdant grounds.
Though from what I’d heard, the Moonwalkers contributed to that violent reputation whenever an uninvited werewolf from a rival pack stepped foot into the park.
Dry autumn leaves scraped along the cement, whipped into a whirling frenzy by our passage. Over-bright eyes watched us pass, but no one interfered. Perhaps the criminals who haunted the park at night knew better than to mess with the supernatural element of the city.
Kimberly twisted to one side, and I skidded, not expecting the move as she scrambled over some benches and deeper into the park, off the trail.
An ominous howl sounded from somewhere nearby. Kimberly froze for a second, then bolted back the way she had come, skirting the benches so she could avoid me and flee the park.
I’d only lost my footing for a brief moment, so her frightened reaction gave me the edge I needed to rush over the bench, using it to leap the distance and tackle her into the flower bed she was trampling in her haste to escape.
We rolled in the dirt and leaves, and I could barely see a thing around the tangle of knotted hair in my face. She used my momentum against me to force herself on top, and I cried out as she gathered enough of my curls in her fist to yank my head back. I retaliated by giving her a resounding slap that sent her sprawling to one side.
Something fell in the dirt, a bit of metal catching the light, but I didn’t pay it any mind.
Crawling on top of her, I reached for her throat, but she flailed at me, forcing my hands off and making me defend my eyes as her nails slashed at my cheek. Christ, this was so high school. If I hadn’t been so mad, I might have laughed.