by Rhea, Lani
She hurried downstairs to greet Darin. As she rounded the corner, she spotted him. “Did you sleep well?”
He turned with a wide smile, straight golden hair reaching his freshly shaven jaw line. “Yes. Thank you. I made breakfast. I don’t know about you, but I didn’t really eat in that shithole.”
Kris glanced at the mountain of food. “I didn’t either. And I’m sure I was offered better food than what you were.”
“Water and bread.”
It was more than she suspected but much less than it should have been. Blasted Ryant.
She sat at the table and scoped food onto her plate. They ate in silence for a few minutes. Once her stomach made happy instead of grumbling noises, she looked up at him and smiled. “Remember what we talked about last night?” He nodded. “I’m serious. I need you with me at all times because of what happened at Club Fifteen. We don’t need another V mishap.”
“I got it. What are you doing today?”
Well… Guess she should tell him about her day job. “I’m a bounty hunter, and we need to go to my office. I’m sure I’ve got loads of work to catch up on.”
“Cool. A bounty hunter.” He chomped on a bacon strip and gazed at her thoughtfully.
She figured she knew what he thought. Tiny female, big boobs and something else but still not usual bounty hunter material.
They finished eating and hopped in her like-new car. Not that she wanted to beholden to him but she was glad Ryant had repaired her baby. It gave her one less thing to deal with.
After a short drive, they arrived at her office where a slew of messages waited. Darin roamed the interior, inspecting the pictures on the walls and playing with the palm plant. She watched him carefully for signs he was planning to bolt. Ryant’s smooth voice from the answering machine drew her back to her messages.
“Kris, check your fundraiser account. I paid you half the money to help find the escapee. The rest you’ll receive when he’s caught. I sent an email on a lead.”
Her brows lifted. She hadn’t given any verbal agreement to find Stanley Adams. Bastard knew she would still do it. She turned to the laptop and opened the foundation site. Twenty thousand dollars had been deposited into the fund bucket. As she gawked over the amount she’d been turning down, Kris swallowed. She then opened her email. And sure enough, Ryant had sent her an email. With a click of the mouse, she opened the message.
A Rita Martin is known for hanging out with Adams. She may have been his human slave. She lives in the Berkley Apartments in Empire, LA. Apartment 208. She drives a black Nissan.
Looked like her first visit would be to Rita Martin.
Her voice recorder overflowed with more messages. A sheriff’s department needed help with a fae, which by the end of the day would turn out to be an interesting one. When a fae went bad, they were like druggies, loose and sketchy.
Looked like she had something else to do after she checked out Rita.
After she printed the reference sheet on the bond, Kris studied Adam’s profile. A scar above his upper lip, green eyes and cropped brown hair made him look like any normal man off the streets. A long list of dirty laundry was printed beneath his picture, everything from slinging drugs to money laundering and gambling. Well, wasn’t he just a keeper and sparkle in his mamma’s eye?
A few hours passed since they left the office. She and Darin drove to a few places on the printout where the fae hung out. It was odd to have someone in the car with her. She was a solo kind of gal. Besides, they’d never really had their talk. To gather information from him now would give the hunt more purpose.
“Why hasn’t any of this made you go mad?” She shot him a quick glance just in time to see a nerve tic in his jaw. If his body language wasn’t screaming secrets, she never would have guessed he held anything back.
“Honestly, it has. I…I mean I do have an open mind about things but…vampires.” He readjusted in the seat. “Vampires are made up creatures. Well, until a few days ago. I never dreamed they existed or that I’d find myself kidnapped by one. Why did V take me?”
“Ryant claims it was for some army. For her, probably, pure pleasure.”
Darin turned to her and cleared his throat. “Are you worried?”
“Yes.”
“What do you plan to do?”
“Beyond keeping you close?” He nodded. “Just that. For now. I don’t know who, but call whoever you need to and explain you have an emergency and have to leave.” She tossed him her cell.
While Darin dialed the number and made the call, Kris concentrated on driving through Empire, Louisiana. Once on Rita’s street, Kris spied the red brick apartment complex and switched on the blinker. She peered up at the second level as she pulled next to a black Nissan, at apartment 208. That Nissan must be Rita’s.
“What are we doing here?” Darin placed the cell on the dashboard then leaned over to look out the side window. The car’s air conditioning system picked up musk and spice with a hint of earth, filtering it throughout the car. Nice.
Clearing her thoughts of his scent, she said, “Ryant sent me an email saying this woman hung out with vamps and might be the girlfriend of the man he’s searching for. I need to see if she’s all right.”
When they exited the car, Kris straightened the holster at her side as she scanned the area. The area was known for robbery, making it theft block number one.
At the moment, her weapon stuck out like a sore thumb. What if people assumed Rita had started trouble and speculated over what kind of mischief? Kris didn’t know the woman, but wouldn’t stir up extra problems for her. She grabbed a light blazer from the backseat, threw the item on to conceal the gun and let the hot, midday sun bake her.
The stairs were in the courtyard. She and Darin walked to the grassy area and she scoped her surroundings as they crossed. The desolate place appeared normal enough. Until her gaze landed on four statues in the Asian-inspired landscape. Her heart skipped a beat. Thoughts of Soulscapes played havoc with her mind.
Kris halted in front of the white door of apartment 208 and knocked a couple of times. She stared into the peephole. Nothing moved in front of the tiny window. She pounded harder. Still nothing.
She side-shuffled to the double paned window by the door. Shielding her hands over her eyes, she peeked inside through a couple of flowery window decals. A fan made the sheer blue curtains flutter.
Going back to the front door, she knocked again then waited, her hands on her hips as she tapped her fingers against her jeans. She looked over at Darin. He leaned against a post, one foot tucked underneath his butt as he stared at the overhead cement ledge. “She isn’t home, is she?”
“I don’t know.” After an idea popped into her mind, she slipped a small cardholder out of her back pocket. Normally, when she prepared to break and enter, she brought her handy dandy tool kit. Not having expected to break in anywhere today, she had to go with what she had. Her cards would have to suffer the price. As she sifted through her collection, she stopped at an old library card.
Glad the door didn’t have a deadbolt, Kris placed her hand on the knob and slipped the card between the latch and frame. She shook the door hard and pressed on the plastic.
The card slipped further inside.
Almost there.
One more tug and Kris would either be home free or her ass would be planted on a cement bench in jail for breaking and entering. She wiggled faster and pushed harder.
Ta da.
“You did it.” Darin acted surprised. He bent forward to inspect her work.
“When you’ve been around as long as I have, it’s easy.” She shoved the door inward. It opened with no sound.
She glanced over her shoulder to make sure no one spotted them, and then peered inside. The brown couch held a cream blanket, rumpled like its occupant had been there, but long since gone. The fan blew the scent of cinnamon into the air. A light breeze feathered over her face.
Darin stood at her backside, peeking over her sh
oulder as he examined the room. “What do you think?”
“I don’t know. You stay here. Let me check out the apartment.”
“I’ll stay in the living room.”
She moved into the living room and he followed. When she did, she pulled out her .40 caliber, held it arm’s length from her waist. She went straight for the picture littered hall and crept toward a bedroom then pushed open the door with the gun tip. The flower decor spread was made and the bed showed no impressions. Everything appeared normal. Interesting.
Slowly, she eased to the closet, flung the door wide. Not a thing seemed out of place. Back down the hall, she inspected the second bedroom. The room was vacant. Even the white walls were blank. No pictures or decor. The only signs of living were makeup scattered across the porcelain sink top and a red towel lying bunched over the rack. The lighthouse shower curtain had been disturbed as if Rita had been getting ready to go out.
Kris stepped into the kitchen to search for anything—a note, maybe. The message light blinked on the answering machine. She squashed the impulse to hit the Play button. Oh, what the hell. She hit the button anyway. Several voicemails were from Rita’s mom wondering if Rita had planned to visit for dinner, and that was two days ago.
With a hip balanced against the counter, Kris sifted through the mail. Everything looked okay—bills, credit card offers and a local grocery ad. With a sigh, she tossed everything down.
She stepped next to the patio sliding glass door and stared outside. A scan of the metal frame showed the door unlocked, when the front door had been locked. How odd. Opening it, she went out onto the patio. Her gaze slid over the wood railing then caught on a piece of cloth fluttering in the warm wind. She slid the gray shred off and inspected it.
The minute she rubbed the rough cotton between the pads of her thumb and forefinger, the material crumbled to ash. She sniffed the fine dust. Charcoal. Soulscapes? She shook her head. Why would they want Rita?
After Kris returned to the kitchen, she shut and locked the sliding door. “Come on, we have a bad guy we need to pick up.” One day later on in the week, she’d come back to Rita’s apartment to see if she’d returned. Kris passed Darin, brushing against his shoulder.
When he opened the door for her, she glanced at him and smiled. One corner of his lips lifted, revealing a small dimple she’d never noticed before. How cute.
Inside the car, she studied the printout. Two places to look for the fae were left. Joe’s Bar, located on the shady side of town, and Louisiana Grille. The printout showed that these two places were the fae’s favorite places to hang out. Her instincts suggested Joe’s would be the best place as any to find him.
As she drove, she sensed expectation from Darin. “What?”
“What’s it like? Being part wolf?”
A question no one had ever asked before. How could she explain? “You know there are werewolves. Well, there are two kinds. The normal, like humans, live everyday lives trying to fit in. They mate, making more of our kind.”
Darin said nothing, so she continued, “Then there’s the royal bloodline.”
“Your bloodline.”
“Yes.”
“Royals can control their shifts, live for hundreds of years. The normals cannot and turn once a month on the full moon.”
He rubbed his hand across his stubbled chin. “So you can control your shifting ability?”
“Yes. It’s hard, but yes. I find the more I shift, the more trouble it stirs up. I try to not shift. You know, to fit in with human civilization, like a normal.” Why in the hell had she made that last statement? It was like she admitted a weakness.
“If I could shift, I’d shift all the time.”
She blinked. “Shifting isn’t easy. There’s a lot of excruciating pain involved. The next day I feel like I’ve been drinking and kickboxing all night.”
“I could handle it.”
He sounded confident, not cocky but he didn’t have a clue as to what it was really like.
A few minutes later, she turned down a lone street. Trash littered the sides of the road. Prostitutes stood on corners. Her gut coiled. A thick invisible layer of some magic or spell, kind of like at the hell house, raised hackles on the nape of her neck.
17
Joe’s Bar offered a calm atmosphere, which was strange after the ominous effects outside. Kris scanned the interior. The few customers immersed in conversation sat at the bar with afternoon drinks and seemed regular enough. They puffed on cheap cigars and the smoke stunk.
“Let me look at the picture,” Darin whispered as he slid the paper from her grip.
The face on the paper she had memorized down to the scar above the man’s upper lip. Kris looked at the bartender, who swabbed a glass clean with a rag. And in return, he watched her as her strides led her across the wooden floor. She halted in front of the bar, placing her hands down firmly over the cool metal edge.
The man smirked as if he made her out as a pretty little lady who couldn’t hold a drink. “May I help you, darlin’?” His big pirate earrings jiggled as he continued cleaning.
She stared at him. His mustache-covered lips widened, revealing yellow, stained teeth. Decades of smoking reeked from him. She didn’t want to be in the man’s face much longer. “Yeah, looking for a man. Have you seen any recently?”
The man shook his head, scrunching his lips as he watched his hands circling the glass.
A lie. As she glanced about the room, she tapped fingers on the bar, searching for the fae. Her gaze narrowed from one person to the next. A few people stood in the corner throwing darts. The lone man at a close-by table didn’t fit the profile. The corner booth, opposite the dartboard, had a couple sipping drinks. The man at the booth had the same moss green eyes, but nothing more.
Kris turned back to the bartender. He worked on a new glass. As she watched the man’s deep russet eyes, she slipped the picture out of Darin’s hand.
“Are you sure you haven’t seen this man? Take a close look.” The man eyed her out of the corner of his eye. “See his slightly-pointed ears, sharp nose and dark green eyes? You can’t miss him.” She waggled the picture in front his face.
He shrugged and went back to cleaning. Maybe she’d have better luck shoving the paper down his throat.
“You’re barking up the wrong tree, lady. I don’t know this person, never seen this person, which means I can’t help. Do you want a drink or not? If not, get out.” He hiked a thumb toward the door.
His gaze lowered, so did hers, to a metal baseball bat. No chance in hell could the man grab it fast enough. He jerked in the direction.
She growled.
His trembling hand stopped a few inches from the bat.
“That’s right, I’m wolf. Where’s the fae?”
“I uh…I uh.” He swallowed over his rapidly bobbing Adam’s apple. “I believe I may have seen him.”
“Yeah, that’s what I thought.”
The barkeep’s stare drifted to her right. A long James Dean poster was stuck to the wall. A shadow beneath the poster moved. James Dean hid a door? “What’s behind the poster?”
He licked his lips. “A room.”
How informative. Can we have another for four hundred? “What kind of room?”
“A room for private members.” His answer was rushed.
Kris looked at Darin, nodding at the door. “Go see if there’s a knob.”
He ambled over and stopped in front of the poster. As she watched his actions from her peripheral, she kept her gaze on the barkeep. Darin moved his hands over the picture, careful not to make noise. He looked over his shoulder and shook his head.
Well, shit. “How do you get into the other room?”
When the bartender hesitated, the wolf growled. “You have to press on the door,” he hastened to say.
Funny how small, flaring tempers made people spill information. He looked half-relieved, half-scared.
She pulled out her gun, holding her wrist for a steady aim a
nd whispered to Darin, “Push on the door.”
He counted to three with his fingers and jammed his fingers down. The door flung open. Cigarette smoke poured out, wafting around their faces. She ducked and crept forward. Several men sat at a table. They held their arms in the air, cards in hand. Their heads bent low, shielding their faces. She eased around the table, examining faces, with the barrel pointing at each one as she went along. The fae wasn’t there. Was there a backdoor?
She tiptoed to a doorframe blocked with a black curtain. Shoving the wall, she edged the barrel through the slit, held her breath and yanked the curtain to the side. The man she hunted for sprang from stacked boxes, straight for her face. She shot and missed, the bullet plowing into the back wall.
Not slowing as he neared her, he slammed into her and knocked her to the floor. Her butt slapped against the hard cement floor, and her breath punched out of her lungs. The .40 skittered across the room and stopped near the table as her head connected with the concrete. The fae howled in a high-pitched whine and continued to scratch her face.
Darin ran from the door, jumping on the man’s back. The fae flung him across the room and Darin fell flat on the table, breaking it into kindling. The five men around the table pushed their chairs out, threw their cards to the floor and bolted.
Kris screamed, fighting off the fae. He whacked her over the head with a broken table piece. The wallop hurt like hell, leaving bright stars dancing before her eyes.
Darin lay on his back, groaning as he clutched his side. Her muscles tensed. The fae lurched, extending his fingers as if he planned to shred her into tiny pieces. Like silly putty, his face lengthened over sharpened teeth.
What the hell?
She’d never seen a fae fight instead of fleeing. Like the past few times she’d captured a fae who had escaped their bonds, they always surrendered. She brought her knees into her chest. The fae reached the soles of her shoes, and she pushed with brute strength, shoving him backward, smashing a hole around him as he sank and disappeared into the drywall. She jumped to her feet and crouched in a martial arts stance, ready to continue to fight.