Stop it.
Why was she even traveling down this road? He’d mentioned a date or a casual affair, not a lifetime commitment, and she had way too many misgivings where his Tracker duties were concerned.
She had the urge to commiserate with Piper, but her friend was a complete bitch in the mornings. Must be all that weight sitting on her chest overnight. Alice glanced down with dismay at her undervalued womanly assets. They were enough for Ian. There’d definitely been some fondling going on there the other night while she’d been preoccupied with his other hand.
Aaaaaand, there she went again, obsessing. She would never get to sleep at this rate.
Sitting up, she turned on her laptop. It was four years old and weighed as much as a small child, but it still worked. Pulling up her electronic records, she pored over the agreements for a few more hours until exhaustion dragged at her eyelids. She’d just about given up when one little clause grabbed her attention. And it was a perfect little shiny gem. A long shot, but it was an opening nonetheless.
Apparently Trackers were held to a different level and had to be turned over to the Legion for subsequent discipline, regardless of the crime committed. Graham hadn’t committed murder, but he had conspired to kill the Immortalis prince, though she highly questioned the charges against him. Would the Legion execute him? That was the question. Actually, no. The question was how does one become a Tracker? Only one man she knew could answer that question. And by God, he’d better give her the answer she needed, or she’d make his Irish hick life hell.
Chapter Twelve
Dammit. Alice was late again. At least losing her job wasn’t a concern, but Ian would be worried when she didn’t meet him at her office. The sun had dipped below the horizon before she’d even called a cab to get to the VLO from the auto shop. She hated her rust bucket of a car, but getting rid of it would be like losing her left arm—a girl needed her independence. Too bad that independence was sitting at the shop again, coughing up its last lung.
As predicted, the sun had been long gone by the time she reached the office to find Ian waiting not so patiently at her office door. Practically edible in thigh-hugging black jeans and a hunter-green, ab-loving T-shirt, he stopped midprowl when she approached. Expression thunderous, his eyebrows lowered in a scowl until they nearly touched and a frown pulled at the corners of his lips.
“How have you been getting into the building? We have security, you know.” She pushed past him, unlocking her door and tossing her coat and purse across her desk. He was a breath behind her.
“Never mind how I got in. You didn’t answer your phone. Where’ve you been?”
She whirled on him. “You are not my boss. You don’t set my hours, and you don’t get to be all huffy because you had to wait a few minutes.”
He got right in her face, his minty breath brushing her skin and raising goose bumps. “It was an hour. In case you forgot, we have murders to solve.”
“In case you forgot, an hour isn’t going to bring them back to life. Get. Off. My. Ass.”
Eyes widening, he laughed. “Who pissed in your Cheerios?”
“It was Lucky Charms.” She grinned.
His head tilted in a way that totally did not appeal to her feminine, I-want-you-to-rip-my-panties-off side. No, it did not. “Thinking of me when you went for those?”
Actually, she had been, but he didn’t need to know that. “Why are your pants on fire?” God, don’t think about his pants. Don’t check them out. She focused on his T-shirt with the words Vampires Suck across his broad chest. Nope, that didn’t help one bit.
“Got a lead, a huge one.” His grin widened, deepening the dimples she wanted to lick. “There was a journal from the Infancy case in our evidence lockup. Now, it’s missing.”
“Someone stole it from your vault?”
“Not someone.” His smile fled, replaced by a growl. “A Tracker.”
“A Legion? That’s going to cause trouble.” Before her mind connected to her body, she smoothed a hand over the worried crease on his brow, and then she pulled away with a jerk. “Uhm. Can you find out who took it?”
“Yes,” he said, studying her a little too closely for comfort. “I thought you’d want to come to headquarters with me to check the videos. We do periodic inventories, and it was recorded at the last one. We can start from there.”
“You’d get me inside?” As far as she knew, no one had ever been allowed inside the Tracker’s headquarters.
“Yes,” he said. “But, Alice, this could take all night and then some.”
“Okay.”
His lips twitched. “Sure you want to spend that much time alone with me?”
“Ugh. Males.” She grabbed her purse and jacket again, but then her cell rang. Please, not another murder. Her hands shook as she answered.
“Oh, God.” She gripped the phone until her fingers hurt. “What happened?”
She listened for a minute before responding to her caller. “I’ll be right there.”
When she stood motionless like a zombie, staring at her phone, Ian grasped her shoulders. “Alice? What is it?”
“My brother.” She stepped out of the comfort of his touch and walked out the door with him following close behind. “He had a heart attack this evening. I have to go. I’m sorry, but I can’t help you tonight.”
He ducked into the elevator with her before she could escape him. Dammit, she just wanted to be left alone. At least he didn’t bombard her with questions, leaving her in blessed silence as they rode down to the lobby. She’d raced through the doors and onto the sidewalk before he spoke.
“Alice.”
Her step faltered, but it wasn’t because of him. With a groan, she threw her hands out. That stupid car. Her worthless, piece-of-crap rust bucket. “Dammit!”
“Alice,” he said softly. He pulled her to face him. “Let me help you. Tell me what I can do, and I’ll do it.”
Oh, that did it. Her breath stuttered in her chest as she fought off the sobs locked inside. Her vision blurred, and a whimper escaped her. A hopeless frustration beat against her chest, and a dizzy spell threatened to drop her to her knees.
“Hell and damnation,” he whispered. He pulled her into his arms, squeezing almost too tightly. “I’ll fix whatever it is. Anything. Just don’t cry.”
“I’m not crying,” she sobbed into his chest. Well, the sobbing and drenching his T-shirt sort of gave it away, but denying it felt better.
“No, of course not.” He smoothed the length of her back and nestled her head against his shoulder.
“My c-car’s in the sh-shop.”
“Tell me where he is, and I’ll take you.”
“B-bellevue.”
“Okay. Take some deep breaths.”
She did, and it helped get her back under her own control. With a giant, trembling sigh, she slumped against him. “Thank you.”
He set her upright, resting his hands on her shoulders to keep the weight of her world off them. Dark cherry eyes met hers.
“I’d do anything for you,” he said. And then before another moment happened, his lips curved a little. “Frustrating wench.”
She managed a somewhat blubbery laugh. “What about the journal?”
“Fuck the journal.” He led her toward the end of the block. “Didn’t want to sit in a vault watching videos that didn’t include hot, sweaty sex all night anyway, thank you very much. Dec can handle it. He’s wearing big-boy pants now.”
They crossed the street toward a sleek, somewhat bullet-shaped black car with maroon accents.
“What is that, a time machine?”
He sent her an offended grimace as he opened the door. “This is a Veyron.” When she shrugged, he huffed. “A Bugatti. This baby has 1200 horsepower.” Loping around the time machine, he slid in, a frown on his face. “All right, so she doesn’t know cars. No biggie.”
“You talk to yourself often?”
He pulled from the curb and darted to the end of the block bef
ore she’d drawn enough breath to emit a cry.
“Ah, and now she appreciates the machine.” His smug expression sobered, but she didn’t want it gone. She needed the distraction of him tonight more than ever.
“You were parked legally.”
His lips took a wry twist. “Well, someone smarter than me showed me the error of my ways.”
A soft chuckle escaped her. People could change. Then again, she hadn’t known him long. He was probably being a smart-ass.
“Tell me about him.”
She groaned inwardly. The one time she wanted him to keep on being a smart-ass, he had to be all sweet and tender and…gooey.
He glanced at her, taking a good guess on her mood. “Start simple. What’s his name?”
“Zach.” She sighed, resigned to her fate. “He’s my twin.”
“You mean there are two of you on this earth?” His eyebrows rose in mock horror. She would have giggled if the situation weren’t so heart wrenching. He and Zach would have been a pair. They had the kind of humor that could drag a person from the pits of hell. Kind of like what Ian was doing now.
“When we were nineteen, a cop shot him in the head. The story was Zach was dealing drugs when the cop caught him. There was a chase, but when Zach got cornered, he fired on the cop. The cop justifiably returned fire.”
“Holy shit,” he muttered. She watched the scenery fly past the window. Funny how the ride was so smooth, she couldn’t even tell Ian was driving like a madman escaping the ward.
“Only it was a lie.” Her voice went cold and flat, vibrating with fury. Saying it brought the rage right back to the surface. “He would never mess with drugs. He had a full scholarship to WSU. He volunteered at the Boys and Girls Club. They never found a weapon on him. I knew him, Ian. He was a part of me—is a part of me.”
He held her hand, unfolding her fingers from her clenched fist. “So, a dirty cop. Anything happen to him?”
“Got suspended pending investigation, but that didn’t last long. He was back on the streets in less than a month. Cleared of wrongdoing. Free to move on with his life.” She played idly with his fingers. “My brother…he’s not doing well. He’s been in a coma for six years, but a few days ago, they put him on a respirator.”
He squeezed her hand and, thankfully, didn’t ask any more questions. She directed him to the long-term care home, a peaceful, cozy-looking place with sprawling, manicured lawns, as if that would matter to the occupants.
Ian opened her door for her and then led her to the building’s entrance. His soothing touch never left her. God help her, he was amazing.
“You don’t have to stay. I’ll be fine. Dec could probably use your help.”
“Dec could probably use a lobotomy. Doesn’t mean he’s going to get one.” He framed her face, his thumbs caressing her cheeks. “I’m staying. Whether you want me or not.”
And didn’t that have multiple interpretations. And…she did want him. She wanted him here with her, holding her up. She wanted him to make her laugh. She wanted him to take her to bed. She just wanted him.
He’d rendered her speechless, so she settled for a nod. When they entered, the night nurse, Brenda, explained the situation, that Zach’s heart was beating but he’d lost signs of impulses from the brain.
She choked back a sob. “I don’t understand. If he’s brain-dead, why is his heart beating?”
Brenda gestured for them to sit while she settled across from them. “The heart can continue for a short time following an end to electrical impulses from the brain. Tomorrow, the doctor will confirm the diagnosis, and then another doctor will verify. Zach may be sent to the hospital for an EEG and some blood tests. What you need to understand is, when this is finished, Zach will no longer be considered comatose. He’ll be pronounced legally dead.”
If Ian hadn’t had his arm around her, Alice would have slipped from her chair. Each word was a sledgehammer against her heart. “No, no, no, no, no.”
“I’m so sorry for your loss.” And Brenda truly seemed saddened, but it didn’t help. Nothing helped. Anguish cut her, bled her out inside until she could barely draw breath.
“Maybe you’re wrong. Maybe they’ll find something on the EEG.”
“He’s gone cold, Alice. I’ve been here too long and seen too much. The on-duty doctor wasn’t mistaken.”
“Gone cold?”
“Without the brain, the body can’t regulate temperature. Hormones are no longer produced. His organs will shut down one by one. There’s no other way to tell you this, but you need to prepare for tomorrow. You need to decide whether to donate his organs. After that, they’ll remove his life support. His heart will cease, and a death certificate will be issued.”
“You’ll kill him,” she whispered.
“No. We’re here to save lives.” She covered Alice’s frigid hands. “If you want to fight this, I wouldn’t blame you. You’ve struggled so hard to bring him back. But the policy is clear on this process. If there was any way I could help, I would. But there just isn’t. I’m sorry.”
And like that, her world would end. Everything she’d done, the jobs she’d worked, the sacrifices she’d made, the dumpy apartments she’d endured, the pain she’d lived with, had been for Zach.
None of that mattered now. It hadn’t saved him.
“Can I see him?”
“Yes, as long as you’d like. All night, if you’d like. I’m sorry, Alice.”
She barely noticed Brenda slip out the door. Keeping her head down, she avoided Ian’s sympathy. Because that would be unbearable. She needed to be alone with her brother.
“You can go, Ian.”
“I’ll stay with you.”
“I need to be with my brother. Alone.”
“I’ll wait.”
“Don’t. I need you to keep working on the case while I’m here.” He didn’t move. “Please, Ian.”
The plea seemed to work. He took a step away, but came back. A slim set of keys dangled in front of her. She jerked her gaze to his face. Not sympathy. Heartbroken. He was utterly heartbroken.
Dear God, she’d underestimated him.
“You’d let me drive your car?”
“I’d do anything for you, Alice.”
With those precious words echoing, he set the keys in her outstretched hand and walked out. A well of loneliness engulfed her. Such a short time had passed since she’d met him, but he was everything she’d dreamed of in a man, and he’d do anything for her. Except tell her the truth.
Chapter Thirteen
Ian cursed the sun. He had an hour before it left the sky, and he wanted nothing more than to hear with his own ears that Alice was all right. It had taken every ounce of effort to focus on the security video last night while she filled his every waking thought.
They’d found nothing, but there were countless hours of video left to scan. He wasn’t sure she’d be up to going to headquarters tonight. Had she taken Zach off life support? Had she spent the day making arrangements to donate organs and arrange a funeral? She’d be a wreck.
He paced a path across his carpeted living room. Fuck, he hated wall-to-wall carpet. He needed to find a new place to stay when he was in town, one that didn’t impersonate a cage. One with more windows to let in the moonlight and more room for a gym. He had equipment stuffed in an office down the hall, but it was cramped and got too hot in there. After he’d awoken, he worked that room hard, trying to kill time.
The light died down as he paced, but too slowly. When he couldn’t take anymore, he braved the remaining sunlight and bolted out his front door. He kept to the shadows, but even so, by the time he arrived inside the safety of the VLO lobby, his skin burned as if he’d rolled on a skillet. His body ached all over, and he could barely shuffle his way to her floor. Thank God for elevators. Stairs would have been out of the question.
Alice jumped from her seat when he burst through her office door. She took one horrified look at him and pulled him to a seat. “Oh, God. What happen
ed to you?”
“Alice. The blinds.” He groaned. She clicked them shut and knelt by his chair.
“Your poor skin. What were you doing out in the sun, you idiot?”
Guess that meant she was all right. He chuckled. “I’ll be okay. Give me a minute.”
After opening her fridge for a bottled water and grabbing a towel from her coffee service, she returned to him with the doused cloth.
Pressing it to his face, he peeked at her over the edge. “I was worried about you.”
Her expression softened. “Oh, Ian. You could have called me.”
“Guess I could’ve done that.” He put the towel across the back of his neck where the sun had done its worst.
“Admit it. You were worried about your car.” She rolled her eyes, but she definitely wasn’t serious.
“You know men. We only truly care about two things: our cars and our cocks. You got your hands on one. You’re welcome to the other.” His grin pulled at his still split lip. Damn sunlight.
She huffed. “I suppose you’ll live then.” She slapped another towel at him before pushing it into his hands. Leaning close enough for him to get a good shot of that warm-cookie smell, she examined his face. “Amazing. Looks much better already.”
“Can I ask you something?”
She laughed. “Why do you bother saying that? You’ll just ask anyway.”
“Well, yeah,” he said. “But I want to know what that scent is. Smells like cookies.”
A pretty pink flushed her cheeks. “You can smell that? It is cookies.”
“What? You eat a lot of ‘em?” He eyed her tiny waist. Where would she put them?
“I’m kind of a stress baker. I get upset and bake a few dozen. Keeps me busy.”
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