Hailey Edwards's Blog, page 3

Nine

Boaz watched Adelaide scramble into the sporty car he recognized from the last crime scene with a tight smile for the driver. The glimpse he caught of the blonde behind the wheel made him more curious about his bride-to-be than ever.

Addie knew his vampire suspect, the bounty hunter.

And she knew enough about him to keep them apart.

That was damn interesting.

Soft footsteps drew his attention from the window to the staircase before he could decide to follow her.

“Oh.” Mr. Whitaker tried focusing his bloodshot eyes on Boaz. “I didn’t realize you were still here.”

The red-rimmed eyes and loose gait at this hour worried Boaz enough he mashed pause on the concerns whirring in his head about Addie and awarded his future father-in-law his full attention. “Addie invited me to stay on while I wrap up a local case.”

“Ah.” Mr. Whitaker ambled into the kitchen. “I see.”

“I hope that’s all right.” Boaz followed him, wary of how the older man swayed on his feet. “I can get a hotel if you like.”

“Addie knows what she’s doing.” He selected a mug out of a cabinet and set it on the counter. “If she invited you to stay, she has good reason.” He rubbed his forehead and searched the room with a sweeping frown. “Where is the coffee pot?”

“It’s right here.” Boaz kissed his chances of catching Addie goodbye. “I was about to make myself a cup.” The lie came to him easily, and so he made it a truth. “Tell me how you like yours, and I’ll make it a double.”

“All right.” He shuffled to the pantry, opened it, and scanned the empty shelves. “There’s no bread for toast.”

The man’s honest confusion tugged Boaz in opposite directions and left him torn.

Mr. Whitaker ought to be aware that, with no savings left, if he didn’t work, the family couldn’t eat. That left Addie working sixty-hour weeks to pay their bills and stock their cupboards.

But he had lost so much, yet he kept on going. Plus, he was always first to praise Addie for her contributions to the family. That was something. Not enough, but a start.

“I’ll pick some up on my way home.” Boaz checked the fridge, found eggs and cheese but not much else. “Would you like an omelet?”

“I suppose it will have to do.” Mr. Whitaker sat at the table and stared at the placemat. “Are there onions?”

A quick check of the pantry provided one that had seen better days but would do the job. “Here we go.”

Mr. Whitaker nodded, as if that made everything right with his world, and slipped into a quiet trance.

Over the years of living alone, Boaz had picked up few cooking skills, but he could manage eggs okay. He made one omelet to keep from using up the carton of eggs, and he leaned on his rusty seasoning skills to cover for the light sprinkling of cheese and small amount of edible onion.

“You must think poorly of me,” Mr. Whitaker said after a while. “I’m not what I once was.”

“You raised a thoughtful and kind daughter. That speaks to your character enough for me.”

Another pause lingered between them. “Do you think you can love her?”

“I intend to try.” Boaz was grateful his back was to the man. “She’s a good woman. It’s what she deserves.”

“She deserves better than to sacrifice everything for the sake of the ghosts who haunt this house, me included.”

“She would disagree with you.” He glanced over his shoulder. “She loves you very much.”

“She’s all I have left.” He slumped forward. “It’s too much for her to shoulder alone.”

“She’s not alone.” Boaz could say this much and make it true. “She’s got me.”

Mr. Whitaker fell silent, and Boaz imagined the man’s stare drilling through his spine, weighing his intentions. But when he turned, Mr. Whitaker had fallen asleep on the table with his head braced on his forearms.

Heart heavy for the burden Adelaide had carried for so long, Boaz plated up the meal and set it on the table. He covered it with a paper towel and left instructions on how to reheat it. He worried if he left it in the microwave, Mr. Whitaker might not be able to find it given his present condition.

After the coffee finished, Boaz set a cup of plain black next to the plate, grabbed his keys, and exited the house. Willy sat where he’d left her, and he patted the motorcycle fondly. She was a beast compared to Jolene, his first bike, but then he wasn’t a high school kid anymore either.

Waiting until the Bluetooth in his helmet synced with his phone, he gave the voice command to dial Parker. “You run that plate for me yet?”

“Yeah.” Parker rustled papers. “Got the ID in a few hours ago.”

Jaw set in a hard line, Boaz reigned in his temper. The ID wouldn’t have mattered as much to him a few hours ago. It hadn’t been until Adelaide got in the car with the mystery vamp that his gut started cramping.

“Cassandra Desmond.” He hummed thoughtfully. “Lives up by the lake.”

Rubbing a hand over his stubbly jaw, he prodded Parker. “Got her address?”

The detective rattled off the information, and Boaz memorized it. He wasn’t overly familiar with the area, but that’s what GPS was for, and he plugged in the information after he hung up the phone.

The ride over was short, only partly due to speeding, but the sporty car wasn’t in the driveway. Wherever Addie and Cassandra had gone, they hadn’t come here. He doubted they had gone Zumbaing either.

While he was there, he might as well take a look around the property.

Vampires tended to shun technology, older ones anyway, so odds were against Cassandra having a security system in place. But she was a bounty hunter, and that job tended to blow back on you eventually. She might be savvy enough to anticipate the day the hunter became the hunted.

Just in case, he removed a charm from the saddlebag on his bike, tossed it on the ground, and crushed it under his heel. The charm would distort any surveillance and cover his butt. It wouldn’t help with his scent, but since they hadn’t met, maybe she would write it off as a utility worker or deliveryman. Packages galore littered her front porch, so he might get lucky on that front.

The house itself was small but elegant, tucked back on several acres of wooded lot that abutted a lake. It was the kind of house a single person with plenty of money and no plans to marry or have kids bought to indulge themselves in weekend getaways to the country. Except, according to Parker, this was the vampire’s full-time residence, or had been for the last several years.

The glimpse he’d gotten of Cassandra made him think of nightclubs and city lights, not lightening bugs and pine trees, but vampires reinvented themselves every so often. She might be adjusting to a new persona or preparing to embrace a new one.

The simple thing would be to ask Addie, but she had gone out of her way to exclude him from whatever activities she had planned for the night and denied him an introduction that would have segued nicely into the questions he had for Cassandra.

He had no proof Cassandra was involved in the murders, but he had a hunch, and he never ignored those. Too bad his gut was telling him his bride-to-be was in this up to her lovely neck, which meant it was a good thing Addie had invited him to stay with her for the duration. It would make keeping tabs on her, and her friend, that much easier.

The voice in his head chanting this might be his out, that he might crawl back to Grier yet, he silenced. Hope had never gotten him anywhere, and he would never wish anything bad on Addie. That his thoughts had spun in Grier’s direction so fast shamed him. But that didn’t change the fact Addie was up to something with a bounty-hunting vampire, and it was his job to find out what before another victim lost their undead life.

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Eight

Cass woke me up with one of her favorite stalking games. She
let herself into my room, climbed onto my twin bed, and straddled my hips. She
leaned down, hands cuffing my wrists, and raked her fangs across my juicy carotid
while purring deep in her throat.

And then she screeched like a howler monkey when I flipped
her off me and onto the floor.

The self-defense classes were her idea. Really, she only had
herself to blame.

Not bothering to open my eyes, I murmured, “Not today,
Satan.”

“You suck.”

“But you don’t.” A smile tickled the edge of my mouth. “Not
on me.”

“I wouldn’t have bitten you.” She hesitated. “Hard.”

“I’ve been bitten by vampires.” I cracked an eye to glare at
her. “It’s always hard, and it always hurts.” I flashed my forearm, a favorite
spot of theirs. “It usually scars too.”

“Bites don’t count when they happen in the heat of battle.”
She pouted. “I could make it good for you.”

“Mm-hmm.” I yawned, blowing morning breath in her face when
she got too close. “Keep your fangs to yourself, missy.”

A cough moved through her chest, and she wrinkled her nose. “You’re
no fun.”

“So you tell me. Like every day.”

“Friends are supposed to tell friends when they’re stuck in
a rut.”

“Friends are also not supposed to eat friends. Friends are
not food.”

Red lips curving in a sensual grin, she leaned closer. “I—”

“Nope.” I tapped the end of her nose. “Bad vampire.”

Cass dialed up the charm. “But—”

“Bad.” I tapped her again. “Vampire.”

Growling, she bared her teeth at me and rose into a crouch,
muscles coiling, ready to spring.

Lucky for me, her phone rang. The jingle was a familiar one.
It belonged to our boss.

“Gustav,” she grumbled, switching to speaker. “What have you
got for me?”

“Ask me in person sometime,” the shifter chuckled, “and I
just might show you.”

While Cass chuckled at the come-on, I mouthed, You two
were made for each other.

“Promises, promises.” She sighed lustily, which I hadn’t
known was possible. “You’re all talk.”

“This mouth is better at things unsaid, sweetheart.” A growl
entered his voice. “Try me.”

Hunger sparked in her eyes, and she wet her lips, about to
take this into territory my ears were too young to hear.

“Hi, Gustav,” I chimed in. “What’s up?”

“If you’ve been listening in, I’ll let you take a wild
guess.”

Heat flooded my cheeks, and I wished I had kept my mouth
shut.

“I got a runaway.” His sigh blasted the receiver, but he
dragged his thoughts back on task. “This one is hot.”

Cass rose in a fluid stretch of lean muscle. “Hot as in…?”

“Handling this case will burn you,” he warned. “Though the
kid is a looker.”

Pulse thumping, I pushed upright. “Kid?”

“Twyla Thorn.” He tapped a few keys. “Adopted by a vamp
couple when she was six. She’s sixteen now. Blonde hair, blue eyes. Tall, lean.
She’s going to be a knockout in a few years.”

Given the limitations of vampire reproduction, I had heard
of plenty of couples who chose to adopt human children. Some did it for status,
others curiosity, a few out of boredom, and in very rare cases, love.

The one thing they all had in common?

Beauty.

To be clear, I mean physical beauty. There’s no barometer
for inner beauty. You can’t look at a child and know what’s in its heart. Then
there’s the whole nature versus nurture argument that even the undead can’t
agree on.

The goal, from what I had seen and heard, was to raise a
child who would one day be resuscitated as a full member of the clan who took
them in.

Basically, this kid, Twyla, had a different brand of
biological clock, and it was ticking. Loudly.

“She ran away?” I threw aside the covers. “Are you sure she
wasn’t kidnapped?”

Vampires tended to keep their offspring on a short leash.
They weren’t afforded much opportunity to mingle with other humans. They were
kept close and encouraged to spend their free time with the clan.

And yeah. Total isolation in the age of social media was the
perfect recipe for teenage rebellion. No doubt.

“She went out with another vampire-fostered girl named Belle
Francis. Belle says she pulled into a fast food chain on their way home from a
movie, and as soon as the car stopped in front of the drive-thru, Twyla jumped
out and ran.”

“Did Belle try to stop her?” I swung my legs over the edge
of the bed. “Or did she just watch her go?”

As someone who could remember being a teenager, versus the
semi-immortals I dealt with on a daily basis, I knew with absolute certainty
there was no difference between aiding and abetting a friend and simply looking
the other way while a friend engaged in questionable behavior.

“According to Belle,” Gustav rumbled, “she parked and ran
after her.”

“Give us a minute.” Cass pursed her lips then muted the
phone. “Well?”

“Let’s do it.” These kids, with their limited knowledge of
the human world, washed up sooner rather than later from their grand
adventures. “It sounds like easy money.”

“There’s no such thing.” She chuckled and unmuted the phone.
“We’ll take the job.”

“I’ll send over the details.”

“You do that.” She ended the call and sized me up with a
smile. “So…your man is downstairs.”

Admitting I stayed up until Boaz let himself in and climbed
up to bed was begging for her to tease me.

“Boaz is a guest.” I sounded calm. Neutral even. “I imagine
he’s getting ready to start his night.”

“Or he’s arguing with some chick named Grier over
breakfast.” She cocked her head. “Who is that?”

“Probably someone he works with.” A knot formed in my gut as
I stood and stretched. “Can I get some privacy to dress?”

“You won’t let me touch,” she huffed. “The least you can do
is let me look.”

“Suit yourself.” I kept my smug grin hidden as I pulled my
shirt over my head. “Behold!”

“You slept in a bra?” Disgust twisted her upper lip. “Why
would you torture yourself like that?”

“The same reason I slept with shorts on.” I flashed her my
pajama bottoms with a twitch of my hips. “What do you think?”

“Are those…?” Her gaze shot to mine. “Heads of garlic?”

“I wanted to buy the matching bra, but it made me look like
I have cloves for nipples.”

With a grumble and a huff, she stormed out of my bedroom and
left me alone to tug on black leather pants and my corset top. After shoving my
boots, stakes, and various other equipment into my gym bag, I pulled on baggy
sweats and an oversized sweatshirt over my work attire.

Bag on shoulder, I slid on running shoes and headed
downstairs.

“There she is.” Boaz sat at the table with an empty plate—and
a cell phone—in front of him. “I made enough for two. Your half is in the
microwave.”

The smile I flashed him was reflexive and a tad sentimental.
I couldn’t remember the last time someone cooked for me. “Thanks.”

“Say that again after you see what I made.”

“Oh.” I removed the paper towel, and I was grateful the door
shielded my expression from him. “You made waffles.”

The kind I used to buy on sale for Hadley when we were
teens. Cheap, quick, and studded with blueberries. At least I think they were
blueberries. They might have been those blueish pellet things.

“I can’t cook, but I do okay with a toaster oven.” He rose,
stuck his plate in the dishwasher, then came to stand close enough I could
smell a hint of his cologne. “I wasn’t sure what you liked, so I picked up my
usual on my way back last night. Make a list, and I’m happy to shop for us.”

The offer tread too close to charity for my taste, but I
didn’t want to hurt his feelings. After all, the fact he wanted to take care of
me, and my family, was the reason I had agreed to his proposal.

“You don’t have to eat it.” He leaned around the microwave
door to get a look at my face. “You won’t hurt my feelings if you’d rather have
yogurt or oatmeal.”

“Do I look like a health nut to you?” I took the plate,
dumped the artificially flavored syrup he’d also bought over the top, then
smeared pats of butter he had softened to room temperature between the layers.
“I haven’t eaten these in forever. They were my sister’s favorite. She could
live off them for weeks.”

The meal that had been appetizing a second earlier kicked up
nostalgia that left my vision blurry.

“Hey.” He took the plate from me and set it on the counter.
“I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

“It hits me at the weirdest times.” I glanced up, blinked my
eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize.” He slowly brought me in for a hug, giving
me time to opt out, but I needed one. “I get it.” He rested his chin on top of
my head. “Grief is like a marathon, except there’s no finish line.”

Endless.

Yep.

That’s how this felt.

“I like that.” I liked this too. More than I should. Forming
an emotional attachment was just asking for trouble. He couldn’t hurt me unless
I gave him that power over me. But his arms were strong, his chest was wide,
and he smelled amazing. A minute or two longer wouldn’t hurt. “Speaking from
personal experience?”

“I lost someone. Years ago.” The muscles to either side of
his spine clenched under my hands. “I wasn’t much good to anyone for a long
time after that.” He laughed at himself. “I’m not much good period.”

Here we go.

Peeling away our layers. Showing each other what’s
underneath. Giving the other person a chance to run screaming before it was too
late.

I showed him mine, with Hadley, and now he was showing me
his.

“I didn’t mean to poke at a sore spot.” I withdrew with a
sigh for the waffles I could no longer stomach. “I should probably let you get
ready for work.” I jingled the bag still on my shoulder. “I’m going to the gym
with a friend.”

The noise caught his attention, and he stared at the bag,
and then at me, until sweat rolled down my spine.

“Got room for one more?” He patted his stomach. “I could
stand to burn a few calories.”

Crap. Crap. Crap.

“It’s a women’s fitness center,” I lied like a rug. “I
needed a place open twenty-four hours, and it was closest. Plus, fewer
overnight creepers.”

“Gotcha.” He kept an eye on the bag. “I might start running
through your neighborhood if you don’t mind.”

The statement held the weight of a question. Almost an
accusation.

Breathe, Addie. He’s not suspicious. You’re
being paranoid.

“Why would I mind?” I shoved the bag behind my back,
grimacing when it clanked against the counter. “There’s even a bike trail you
could use.”

“Your neighbors will see me coming and going.” A shrug
twitched his shoulders. “I wasn’t sure if you wanted that yet.”

See? He was being considerate. That was sweet. Definitely
not suspicious.

“They’ll figure it out sooner or later.” I noticed his phone
on the table and bit my lip to avoid asking about Grier to deflect his interest
in my bag. Until we exchanged vows, his business was his business. I could
hardly demand full disclosure from him without doing the same. “Might as well
give them something juicy to talk about.”

I regretted the flippant remark the second it passed my
lips. I never would have made it had I not been distracted, and, okay,
panicked. My family had given the neighbors plenty to talk about over the
years. Hadley’s sickness. Our poverty. Hadley’s death. Mom’s death. Dad’s
alcoholism. Speculation as to what I did to keep the lights on. Or who I
did.

Gossip was cheap, and necromancers loved a good bargain.

“I’ll find a gym.” His gaze touched on the windows as if he
might catch the neighbors peeking through them. “You don’t need more on your
plate than you’ve already got.”

“You’re a nice guy, Boaz.” I’d had my doubts, given his
reputation, but he was proving to be more than a handsome face. “I’m glad about
that.”

“I have my moments,” he said quietly, not looking at me.
“I’m trying, for you.” He attempted a smile, but it didn’t stick. “You’re nice
too. You deserve the effort.”

A car horn blasting in the driveway spared me from
overanalyzing what he’d said and why he couldn’t meet my eyes as he said it.

“My ride is here.” I kept the bag behind me. “See you
later?”

“I’m not sure where the night will take me.” He glanced up
then. “I would like to try for dinner, if you don’t have plans.”

Beep.

Beep.

Beeeeeeeeep.

Cass, who would have snuck out the window, hadn’t wasted
time circling back for me.

“No plans.” I backed out of the kitchen. “Dinner sounds
good.”

“Let me walk you out.” He flashed a smile as he edged around
me. “It’s the least I can do.”

“No.” I threw myself at him. Literally. Like I was
bearhugging him to keep him from opening the door and IDing the car in the
driveway. “I’m late for Zumba class.” I was going to murder Cass for drawing
attention to herself and her ride after I warned her Boaz saw us last night.
“No time for chivalry.” I tipped back my head. “I’ve got to run, or I’ll miss
it.”

The tackle-hug earned me a curious glance, but he hugged me
back. “All right.”

“Bye.” I patted him on the chest. “Be safe out there.”

Boaz cut his eyes to the crack in the door when I opened it,
and I was about to slam it behind me when he slid his gaze over me. “You too.”

Only after I shot from the house like a cat with a
firecracker tied to its tail did I replay those last seconds.

You too.

Did that mean bye too? Or be safe too?

And if he wanted me to be safe… What did he think I was up
to?

Something told me not Zumba.

Pack of Lies is Now Available!

Hadley is losing time, and her shadow refuses to shed light on the gaps in her memory. How can she protect her city if she can’t remember where she goes or what she does when she ought to be asleep? Her grim history appears to be stuck on repeat, and the only way forward might be a scythe through her back.

Seven

The flashy car executing a precise three-point turn tickled the back of Boaz’s memory, but he couldn’t place where he had seen it. The blonde behind the wheel also struck a chord, but the tinted windows made an ID impossible from this distance. His night vision was good, but the IED that cost him his left leg nearly took his sight in that eye. The charm he kept on a keyring in his pocket helped, but magic could only do so much.

Parker stepped onto the asphalt beside him and watched the taillights until they burned out. “What?”

“That car look familiar to you?”

“I’ve seen it around.” The sentinel hooked his hands on his hips. “Pretty sure it belongs to a local vampire.”

“Find out who.” A tightness in his gut told him the car or the vampire or both were important, and that same instinct was what saved his life overseas. “I’ve seen it before, maybe at the railroad museum.”

He preferred motorcycles, but fast cars did it for him too. A sleek beauty like that would have earned a passing glance. Too bad he hadn’t had time for a closer inspection. Maybe next time.

And there would be a next time.

His near certainty of where he had seen the car, and its driver, guaranteed it.

“I’ll ask Abernathy for the plate number, and we’ll run it.” Parker made a note. “You’re staying out at the old Whitaker place, right?”

Tension shot through Boaz’s shoulders, curving them in an instinctive hunch as if he’d been caught misbehaving instead of engaging in Society appropriate conduct for a man engaged to the Whitaker matron.

Then again, he had the next best thing to a girlfriend back in Savannah who would be less than thrilled to learn of his travel accommodations, let alone his recent and secret engagement.

Goddess, he was tired.

Dragging a hand down his face, he wished he could hop on his bike, drive home, and pretend none of this had happened. That he could find another way to save his sister, his family, that didn’t cost him the first woman to make him think, to make him feel.

I am so sorry.

Uncertain if he meant the apology for Grier or Adelaide, he forced his mind back on task.

“Yeah,” he rasped. “That’s where I’ll be.” He hesitated. “I would prefer a call to a drop-in.”

Parker, who had known him a long time, shook his head. “Her father know you’re staying with them?”

Boaz ran a finger along the inside of the collar of his tee. “Yeah.”

And he was about as thrilled with the prospect of Boaz for a son-in-law as learning Godzilla was rampaging through their small town.

His tone or expression must have set Parker’s detective instincts tingling. “You’re getting serious?”

The other man laughed at what he must consider a witty one-liner, but Boaz played dumb and took the words at face value.

“Everybody’s gotta settle down some time.” He clasped Parker on the shoulder. “I’m going back for another look.”

“Make it quick.” He shook his head, still chuckling, and checked his watch. “The cleaners are getting antsy.”

Leaving the pitted strip of asphalt, Boaz trudged back into the woods to do what he did best.

The victim had been identified as Angelo Willis of Clan Willis, whose newly turned lover, Ron Turner, had met his end at the railroad museum. 

Prior to this, the thought had entered Boaz’s mind that Ron’s murder was a punishment for the younger vampire stepping out on his lover and sire, but this killed that line of inquiry stone dead.

Ron hadn’t had it easy, but Angelo, the poor bastard, had suffered more.

Wrists opened from palm to elbow, throat slit, and femoral arteries gaping, he had been hung suspended between two pines and left to bleed out. Beneath him, the pine straw glistened, black in the moonlight, and the size of the puddle made it clear the vampire hadn’t fed since news of Ron’s true death had reached him.

“He’s still alive, well, undead,” Honeywell murmured from right behind him. “We need to cut him down.”

Jessica “Honey” Honeywell was the reason Boaz was out in the middle of nowhere debating that very thing. How dead was too dead when you were already undead? He had no clue. Only a master vampire could tell him if Angelo was redeemable. His corpse was intact, his decapitation thwarted by a thin strip of meat.

Boaz examined the knots used and made a mental note of them. “How old is he?”

“Two-fifty or three hundred.” She leaned over his shoulder, her breath in his ear. “He’ll turn to dust and blow away come morning.”

Choosing to ignore the come-on, he kept his game face on. “Can they revive him in this condition?”

“Hard to say.” She withdrew a fraction when he didn’t reciprocate. Honey was smart like that. “The master of Clan Willis is upper limits for a made vampire. If it can be done, he’ll know how to do it.”

“The head is still attached.” Boaz leaned in as close as he dared without disrupting the evidence underfoot. “Might explain why decay hasn’t set in.”

New vampires, like Ron Turner, died much the same as humans. Old ones, like Angelo, crumpled into ash, one thing the movies had gotten right.

“I heard you got yourself a girlfriend.”

The change of topic didn’t surprise him. “And?”

“Also heard you were staying at the Whitaker place.”

“Yeah.” He rolled his hand, waiting on her to get to the point. “What about it?”

“Rumor has it you’re off the market, but I didn’t buy it for a minute.” She sized him up, made sure he knew she still liked what she saw. “Sounds like you’re as available as ever to me.”

The words got stuck in his throat, but he pushed them out in the face of her amusement. “I’m not.”

“Oh, honey, no. You can’t have a sweetie in every city. You’re either monogamous, goddess help us all, or you’re the same old Boaz who’s always known how to show a girl a good time.”

A reluctant smile kicked up his lips. “Why can’t it be both?”

“Mm-hmm. See? You never change.” She bumped shoulders with him. “Can you make it by my place?”

Again, the words didn’t want to come. This time he figured it was because his heart was pulling him in one direction while duty yanked him in another. The idea of belonging to someone was…not terrible. Strange, but doable. He might even grow to like it.

His parents weren’t the lovey-dovey type, but they had built a solid life for each other and their kids. Sure, Mom and Amelie fought like cats and dogs, and Dad would rather stare into space than see what was right in front of him, but that’s just how things shook out for them.

Things could have been a lot worse.

“I’m an honest man these days,” he joked to let her down easy. “Don’t tempt me.”

“You really mean that.” She spun an earring through her fingers. “Huh.”

“It’s new,” he said gruffly. “I’m still figuring out what to do and how to act.”

“Seems like you’ve got what not to do down pat,” she teased back. “That’s the big one.”

The old Boaz might have viewed juggling three women as a challenge, but that was before he set eyes on Grier, all grown up and everything he ever wanted. And even then, he still took Adelaide’s hand and made her a promise he couldn’t break. Slowly but surely, it was sinking in that he was too damn old for the bullshit he got up to in his youth.

“Okay.” She picked her way behind the corpse. “Do you think whoever did this realized they were leaving us a witness?”

The smooth transition from personal to business was one of the reasons he liked her so well.

“The other kills were similar to Ron’s death,” he reminded her. “Newly resuscitated vampires.”

“You can’t think we’ve got a vampire hunter.” She laughed hard once then sobered. “Seriously, those went out of style ages ago.”

“They crop up now and then.” Humans watched movies, read books, got ideas. “People notice neighbors, coworkers, even their friends acting strange. They hold that behavior up against what they think they know about vampires and decide it’s their civic duty to go on a killing spree.”

“Goddess,” she breathed. “How many humans have been collateral damage this time?”

“One.”

“That would explain why they’re sticking to freshies.” She frowned. “They’re easier to identify and simpler to kill.”

“Ron was the link to Angelo.” Boaz exhaled. “That’s how the killer found Angelo, why they risked it.”

A cautious hunter was rarer still, and even more dangerous. Most humans made mistakes identifying the monsters among them. This one wasn’t taking any chances.

“Then we’ve got problems.” She glanced toward the flashing lights. “The woman who reported Ron Turner’s murder is a bounty hunter, a vampire. She was tracking him for a payday when she stumbled across his corpse.”

“We need to beat the killer to her.”

“With a job like hers?” Honey scoffed. “She can protect herself.”

The brutal tableau before him burned in his mind’s eye. “I bet Angelo thought the same thing.”

Waving the cleaners in, Boaz tipped his chin to Honey then set out for his bike.

Come dusk, he had a vampire to interrogate. 

He bet he could guess what type of car she drove.

Six

“Well?” Cass prowled over wearing a toothy grin. “Are we going hunting?”

“For Angelo?”

“The payout isn’t as large since he’s not a criminal, but we can both guess where he’ll go.”

To the scene of the crime. To see his dead undead lover. To make whatever peace available to him.

A quick check of the time left me conflicted. “We only have two hours until dawn.”

“I enjoy living dangerously.”

“Clearly.”

“Your love muffin is busy working his second crime scene. He won’t be at the train museum to bust us.”

“He’s not my love muffin.”

“Did you notice his hands?” She flexed her delicate fingers. “That man knows how to knead dough.”

“My bakery is not open for business.” I made a slashing gesture when her gaze dipped to my chest. “Do not make mention of my breasts as pillowy mounds of—anything really. Leave my boobs out of this.”

“You’re the least fun person I’ve ever met.”

“And yet you’re still here.”

“Your staidness was a cry for help. Who am I not to answer?”

“Staidness is an old vampire word. I thought you were hip and with it.”

“I’m hip and with it enough to know humans don’t say hip or with it and haven’t since the eighties.”

“Two hours,” I warned, done teasing the vampire. For now. “We’ll have to make it fast.”

Cass smiled, teeth glittering. “My specialty.”

“You’re terrible.” I dragged a hand down my face. “Horrible.”

“No good,” she agreed. “Very bad too.”

Laughing under my breath, which only encouraged her bad behavior, I jogged upstairs to pull on jeans, sneakers, and a tee. I didn’t expect Angelo to put up much of a fight, if we found him in time. 

With dawn an oncoming threat, we had to factor in vampire ennui as well.

Angelo might decide he would rather greet the sun than live without his lover.

Usually it was dawn or near it when those calls came in. Thanks to the hour, I got to handle them solo. Fun times.

I discovered most forlorn vampires huddled in shadows, only making their brave stand against UV when they spotted me coming. Or awaiting the rising of the sun on the roof of their home, always with a door or window to their back, and cast in deep shadow. Or, my personal favorite, standing in front of a window clutching blackout curtains to rip open dramatically, except they never did.

Out of the six or seven attempted suicides I had fielded, only one had resulted in the vampire going through with it. I hesitated to count it since he hadn’t meant to do it. He tripped over the fabric artfully arranged on the floor at his feet, caught himself on the curtain, ripped it open, and exploded into dust I was blowing out of my nose for days.

Needless to say, I didn’t get paid for that job.

With Cass behind the wheel, we covered half the distance to the railroad museum in a blur. About to make our turn, a red and blue strobe caught my eye.

“Accident?” I heard the doubt in my voice. “Can you tell if it’s police or emergency services?”

Soon it became apparent we would have to drive past them to reach our paycheck.

“Police.” She slowed as we approached. “This doesn’t look good.”

“Forensics.” I recognized the sleek van from previous encounters. “These aren’t local cops.”

The vehicles bore the right logos, but they were too new, too shiny. Nicer than the budget would have allowed stretched across a fleet this size.

“They’re Society,” she agreed. “Sentinels, cleaners, maybe even an Elite.”

The rise of her voice at the end of the sentence spoke volumes. “You think Boaz is out there.”

“How many crimes against the Society could be committed in a town this size in one night?”

“Depends on how motivated the individuals are to their cause.”

We rolled to a stop when a uniformed officer stepped from the shoulder onto the road. He knocked on the glass, and Cass lowered the window, smile in place. He blinded us with his flashlight, making it impossible to distinguish his features, but he wasn’t shy about looking his fill.

“There’s been an accident.” He focused the beam on Cass, the light reflecting off the pale orbs she somehow plumped between throwing the car in park and lowering the window. “I’m going to have to ask you ladies to turn around.”

Pale orbs? Really? Goddess. I was spending too much time with Cass if her voice was the one narrating my thoughts.

“We’re headed into town for a late dinner.” She kept her fangs tucked in. “Can’t we squeak past?”

“No, ma’am.” He indicated the row of orange cones dotting the oncoming and outgoing traffic lanes. “You’ll have to cancel. I’m sure your dates will understand.”

“Dates?” She fluttered her lashes. “Oh, no. Nothing like that. Just a girls’ night out is all.”

“That’s nice.” The man lowered his flashlight by degrees, probably to admire the even more generous swath of porcelain skin exposed by her sudden zipper malfunction. “Maybe you can reschedule for tomorrow.”

“Maybe we can.” She leaned out the window, just a bit. “What are your plans, Officer…?”

The light clicked off, and I blinked away spots, curious how Cass could see a damn thing with her more sensitive eyes in the direct line of fire.

“Abernathy,” he supplied, eager to please. “I don’t have any, but I’m off after five.”

A purr turned her voice to silk. “You don’t say?”

Just as she swooped in for the metaphorical kill, three men tramped out of the woods at the edge of the road, and my vision cleared enough to recognize the tallest and the blondest of them.

“Cass.” I choked back the urgency in my voice. “We really should let the nice officer get back to work.”

She followed my line of sight straight to the last person who needed to see me, or her, or us. Together. We didn’t need him making any connections. I might not have a record, but Cass’s was a mile long. He would have questions, and any answers I gave him would condemn me and my family.

“Here’s my card.” She passed the officer I could see now was cute and young a black rectangle. “Call me.”

“I’ll do that.” He tucked it into his shirt pocket. “You ladies have a nice rest of your night.”

“Oh,” she promised, “we will.”

Her three-point turn, complete with pause to flip her glossy curtain of blond hair over her shoulder for the sentinel’s benefit, would have done a shampoo ad proud. He was definitely buying what she was selling.

“We have a source now,” she announced after raising her window. “You can thank me later. Or now. Actually, now is good.”

Meaning she planned on wining him and dining on him to get intel on what really brought out the big guns.

“Thank you,” I said dutifully. “You’re the very best vampire ever.”

“Aww.” She patted my thigh. “You know what I like.”

“I do know what you like.” I grabbed her wrist. “That’s why I’m going to have to ask you to keep your hands on your side of the car.”

“And now I know what you like.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m a vampire.”

“I’m aware.”

“Your heart almost beat out of your chest when you recognized Boaz.”

“He almost spotted me. Worse, he almost spotted me with you.”

Cass was on record as finding Ron Turner’s body. Boaz would wonder, once he realized that, what my connection was to her. I was a Low Society necromancer. I couldn’t resuscitate humans, turning them into vampires. Beyond that act of creation, most necromancers didn’t mingle with their offspring. Let alone with someone else’s.

Tapping the side of her nose, she turned smug. “That’s not what your pheromones said.”

“You’ve told me a hundred times that fear and arousal smell the same to you.”

As a vampire, she provoked a prey reaction in her lovers, so it was hardly surprising.

“No, I told you they smell equally good. It’s not the same thing.”

“I’m glad we cleared that up.”

“Can I stay at your place tonight?”

Another inglorious fact about middle aged vampires I learned from Cass.

They get lonely.

Really, really lonely.

And once they bond to you, they’re like barnacles on the hull of a ship. You have to chip them off if you decide you want them gone.

“I’ll make up Hadley’s room for you.” I hung blackout curtains with Velcro closures in there months ago for this very reason. Right after The Garlic Incident. “Just remember to lock the door so Dad doesn’t walk in on you.”

“I’m a vampire, not an idiot. I know the drill.” She clicked her nails on the rich leather of the steering wheel. “Do you want to watch a movie?”

“Sure.” She would pass out after the sun rose, and we both knew it. “Keanu or Dracula?”

“Not all vampire movies are about Dracula,” she huffed. “And not all vampires wear black silk capes with red lining.”

“True and true.” I snickered. “I’ve seen your closet, though. You own such a garment.”

“It was for Halloween,” she screeched. “Why must I keep telling you that?”

“Halloween two years ago,” I reminded her. “What’s it still doing in there?”

“Who knows?” She tossed her hair. “I’m a very busy vampire, and I don’t have time to properly organize my closet.”

“It’s not like you’re immortal or anything.”

“What a cruel thing to say. We both know I’m not truly immortal.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Sorry enough to let me cop a feel?”

“Nope.”

“You understand I had to ask.”

“I do, and you understand I had to hard pass or I would start waking up with you curled around me during the day.”

“What a lovely mental picture that provides.” Her chuckle was positively evil. “I could teach you all kinds of things before you marry.”

“I’ve waited this long. I might as well let Boaz teach me all kinds of things after we’re married.”

A beat of silence lapsed before Cass’s expression turned somber. “I don’t like this.”

“What? The marriage?” I gave her the same pep talk I usually reserved for myself. “Get used to it. It’s happening.”

“The train museum wasn’t far from your house.” Her lips pursed. “The car accident was even closer.”

All of a sudden, her request to stay over was cast into a whole new light, and it blinded.

Cass was worried about me.

And if Cass was worried, I probably should be too.

Five

Cass found me curled up on the couch when she came to
retrieve her car and plopped down beside me.

“You look rattled.” She flicked the end of my robe’s sash
back and forth like an irritated cat swishing its tail. “Want to talk about?”

“Boaz dropped by tonight. He’s investigating the Turner
situation.”

“That’s not ideal, but we can manage.” She crossed her long
legs and kicked her foot, smiling an evil little smile at the silver tip on her
boot, a taunt for Gustav. “He’s got no reason to think you’re involved, and he
doesn’t know me from Adam.”

A weird caving sensation filled my middle. “I invited him to
stay here.”

“Smart.” She tapped my knee. “This way we can keep an eye on
him.”

That was the plan, but he had keen eyes himself. Who would
be watching whom? How much had I slipped up tonight? How much had he noticed?
How would I explain any of this if I got caught?

“Turner isn’t the first.” I might as well tell her the rest.
“He’s the latest in a string of ritual murders.”

“Vampire murders?” She rolled her eyes. “There are always
idiots who fancy themselves vampire slayers. You would not believe the
quality of stakes I’ve been assaulted with in my time.” She slipped into her
mocking humans voice, low and brutish. “I sharpened a pencil.” She mimed
stabbing me in the chest. “Fear me!”

“First of all, you only did that to cop a feel.” I slapped
her hand off me. “Second of all, the Society wouldn’t get involved if it wasn’t
serious.”

Boaz was an Elite, a special class of sentinel. They
wouldn’t spend him on a case that wasn’t priority.

“The Society loves to stick its nose into vampire business.
They’re helicopter parents if you ask me.”

The Society was responsible for resuscitating humans, using necromantic magic to transform them into vampires, but they only cared for their offspring up to the point when the check cleared. Past that, as long as they weren’t making waves among humans, the Society would sit on its hands and allow the vampire masters to police their clans. Or not. Obviously. Or I would be out of a job.

I wasn’t buying that, but I was no detective. I was a bounty
hunter, not even a certified one. I couldn’t risk the paperwork tracing back to
me to apply for the license.

“Before I forget.” She reached between her boobs, taking far
too long, and pulled out a wad of cash. “There’s your cut.”

“How did you manage this?” I gawked at the money I never
expected to see. “The cleaners took the body into custody, right?”

Cleaners kept the paranormal world from bleeding over into
the normal, and that meant cleaning up our crime scenes and disposing of bodies
before they were discovered by humans.

“Do you remember Frank?”

“The human who thought he got turned into a vampire because you
bit him during sex once?”

“That’s him.” She chuckled at the memory and then sighed
with amusement. “He’s a cleaner these days. I talked him into giving me the
head after the rest had been catalogued.”

“Won’t that get him in trouble?”

“Probably.”

“Don’t you care?”

“Not especially.” She frowned when I gave her the look.
“Please don’t lecture me, Addie.” She bared her fangs then pointed at them. “I’m
carnivorous. Dare I say, a maneater.” She hooked her fingers into claws and
raked the air with them. “This is what I do. I use them, and then I throw them
away.”

“So basically, you’re a predatory litterbug.”

“I don’t believe in double dipping.” A shudder rippled
through her. “Do you know how many alcohol wipes I used before I bit him? Five.
And now he’s always baring his throat around me and talking about blood
exchanges like he’s seen in the movies.” She gagged a little. “He believes
everything he sees on TV. It’s ridiculous.”

“Mmm-hmm.”

I didn’t remind her of the week she spent as my uninvited
guest, the better for me to play nurse to her, after she accidentally drank the
blood of someone who had eaten pizza for dinner. Convinced she was going to die
from garlic poisoning, she wouldn’t leave my bed or put on clothes, determined
to leave the world the way she came into or some such nonsense. Also something
she saw in a movie.

After seven days, her lucky number, she rose from the bed
and proclaimed herself cured by the grace of—I wasn’t really listening. At that
point, I had a week’s worth of naked vampire to wash out of my sheets before I
could sleep in my room again. Plus, she had been sipping her warmed blood in
bed and spilled it all over my good comforter.

“What will you do if your man sneaks into your room at
night?”

“He’s not my man.” Just my future husband. “And I’ll stab
him with the stake I keep under my pillow.”

Given my line of work, I had to be prepared a vampire might
follow me home one day. From where I sat, the trick worked on fiancés who
followed me home too.

“Bloodthirsty.” She chuckled. “I like it.”

Finding a man pinned to my wall, a macabre butterfly caught midair, would make her century.

“Of course you do.” I nudged her with my foot. “What is
that? Are you…purring?”

“Am I? That’s embarrassing.” She touched her lower stomach.
“Oh. No. It’s my phone. I set it on vibrate.”

“You set it on vibrate, and then you shoved it down your
pants.” I was never borrowing her phone again. No matter how much hand
sanitizer she used after the fact. “Like a normal person.”

“I’m not a person,” she said absently. “I’m a creature of
the night.”

She bared her fangs halfheartedly and hissed for emphasis.

“Who’s calling?” I nudged her again. “Gustav?” I leaned
over. “I noticed you wore his favorite boots.”

“Clan Willis has put out a BOLO on Angelo, Ron Turner’s
lover.”

“Do you think he heard about the murder?”

“The preliminary findings must have been uploaded into the
cleaners’ database.” Her lips twisted. “I was on-scene. I provided the
identification. The gory details can’t have been listed yet, but his name might
have been enough to send Angelo into a tizzy.”

“Vampires are so dramatic.”

“Live as long as we do, and you begin to crave sensation.
What is love if not sensation? What is loss if not the ultimate sensation?” She
tapped the end of my nose. “And he must look good while doing it.”

“Are you telling me he’s at the tailor’s getting fitted for
mourning attire? That he would ditch his clan, tell no one where he’s gone, and
duck out just to get a new black ensemble?”

Depending on his age, he might commission enough black suits
to last him a full year.

Vampires: The original drama llamas.

“The news can’t have been delivered.” She sniffed. “He has
to hurry before it’s formally announced.”

“I held my sister’s hand while she died. I was in my
pajamas, and so was she. I cried until I passed out and had to be carried to my
room. The last thing on my mind was dashing out for a quick fitting.”

Cass did a thing she hated almost as much as germs. She
apologized and meant it.

“I’m sorry, Addie.” She touched my leg in a mostly nonsexual
way. “Humans love differently than we do. We might have been human once, but we
lose that spark. What’s left is an echo of mortality and morality. You have the
biggest heart of anyone I know, which is why it was so easy for me to insinuate
myself into your life and bend you to my will.”

What she wanted from me then was a desperate partner in
crime, someone willing to do the dirty work. The literal dirty work. Anything
that might result in contamination from germs, diseases, so forth and so on.
How she made it as a prostitute for so long boggled my mind. Sex was the
ultimate fluid swapping experience, and she had been paid for it long before
condoms, birth control, or STD preventives, let alone treatment.

Unless she was willing to coexist with germs until after
she became a vampire. It happened like that sometimes. A weird trait, a
personality quirk, a bizarre affectation ballooned until it took them over.

“Does that mean you wouldn’t mourn me if I got my throat
ripped out on the job?”

“No.” A low rumble laced her voice. “It means I would rip
the flesh from anyone who dared, strip by strip, and feed it to them. I would
then hang them from their pinky toes, slash their throats, and let them exsanguinate.
Once that was done, I would coffin them in cement and have the block dropped in
the ocean.”

Touched by her twisted affection, I had to swallow back tears.
“But would you look good doing it?”

“Dearest, darling one.” She plumped her cleavage. “I would
look amazing.”

A familiar ringtone had me reaching for my phone. With Dad
upstairs and Cass beside me, I had few guesses as to the culprit. The caller ID
didn’t work, but I risked answering anyway. “Hello?”

“I’m going to be late,” Boaz said grimly. “Are you sure you
want me to come back to your place? I can crash in the barracks. I don’t want
to be an imposition.”

The slight pulling sensation in my chest drew me upright,
and Cass too. “What happened?”

“There’s been another murder.” A siren muffled his voice. “I
can’t get into the details, but I need to go.”

“Another murder,” I echoed. “As in two? As in someone else
died tonight?”

“Yeah.” He exhaled hard. “Just wanted to let you know so you
wouldn’t worry.”

Beside me Cass mashed her index fingers together and twisted
them back and forth while making kissing noises.

Annoyance with her bled over onto him. “How presumptuous of
you.”

“Just a turn of phrase.” His voice came out tired, defeated
even. “I didn’t mean to imply, well, anything.”

A frustrated scream rose up my throat, but I couldn’t let it
out. Once I started, I might not stop.

“I didn’t mean to snap at you.” Palming Cass’s forehead, I shoved
her out of my face and hopped off the couch to begin pacing. “I appreciate the
call. I would have worried if I woke and you weren’t here.”

Turning, I bumped into Cass, who had moved on to dry humping
the doorframe while pointing at the phone and mouthing Boaz’s name. Recalling
where she had been keeping her cell, I wished for bleach or a time machine to
undo the last five minutes of my life. Or the last five years. I would take
what I could get.

“You don’t have to patronize me.”

“I’m not.” I made a fist and hit myself in the forehead.
“I’m just having a bad night, and it’s wrong for me to take it out on you.”

“The offer stands. I can go to the barracks.” He lightened
his tone. “Hell, I can stay there all week if it’s easier.”

Two vampires dead. One a bounty of ours, the other his
lover.

There was no reason for me to think it had anything to do
with me, or Cass, or even Gustav, but I couldn’t let it go. The killings, so
close to home, bothered me. Having Boaz this close, in my space, bothered me
too, but he was a handy conduit to information. He was also the man I agreed to
spend the rest of my life with, so I had to play nice. I had to smooth this
over. I had to make this work.

Goddess, I was tired all of a sudden. Even the comforting
weight of cash doused with Cass’s perfume did nothing to alleviate the dread
coiling around my throat, tight as a noose.

“Come home,” I said, hating the waver in my voice. “I’ll be
waiting.”

“All right.” He hesitated. “You’re good people, Addie.”

Good people didn’t invite their future husbands into their
homes to spy on them.

Good people didn’t consider how far they were willing to go
to keep their secrets.

Good people didn’t wish, even a little, that the label would
stick, that the epithet was true.

I couldn’t afford to be good, and what’s worse, I couldn’t afford to let him catch me being bad.

Copyright © 2019 Hailey Edwards
All rights reserved

Five

Cass found me curled up on the couch when she came to retrieve her car and plopped down beside me.

“You look rattled.” She flicked the end of my robe’s sash back and forth like an irritated cat swishing its tail. “Want to talk about?”

“Boaz dropped by tonight. He’s investigating the Turner situation.”

“That’s not ideal, but we can manage.” She crossed her long legs and kicked her foot, smiling an evil little smile at the silver tip on her boot, a taunt for Gustav. “He’s got no reason to think you’re involved, and he doesn’t know me from Adam.”

A weird caving sensation filled my middle. “I invited him to stay here.”

“Smart.” She tapped my knee. “This way we can keep an eye on him.”

That was the plan, but he had keen eyes himself. Who would be watching whom? How much had I slipped up tonight? How much had he noticed? How would I explain any of this if I got caught?

“Turner isn’t the first.” I might as well tell her the rest. “He’s the latest in a string of ritual murders.”

“Vampire murders?” She rolled her eyes. “There are always idiots who fancy themselves vampire slayers. You would not believe the quality of stakes I’ve been assaulted with in my time.” She slipped into her mocking humans voice, low and brutish. “I sharpened a pencil.” She mimed stabbing me in the chest. “Fear me!”

“First of all, you only did that to cop a feel.” I slapped her hand off me. “Second of all, the Society wouldn’t get involved if it wasn’t serious.”

Boaz was an Elite, a special class of sentinel. They wouldn’t spend him on a case that wasn’t priority.

“The Society loves to stick its nose into vampire business. They’re helicopter parents if you ask me.”

The Society was responsible for resuscitating humans, using necromantic magic to transform them into vampires, but they only cared for their offspring up to the point when the checked cleared. Past that, as long as they weren’t making waves among humans, the Society would sit on its hands and allow the vampire masters to police their clans. Or not. Obviously. Or I would be out of a job.

I wasn’t buying that, but I was no detective. I was a bounty hunter, not even a certified one. I couldn’t risk the paperwork tracing back to me to apply for the license.

“Before I forget.” She reached between her boobs, taking far too long, and pulled out a wad of cash. “There’s your cut.”

“How did you manage this?” I gawked at the money I never expected to see. “The cleaners took the body into custody, right?”

Cleaners kept the paranormal world from bleeding over into the normal, and that meant cleaning up our crime scenes and disposing of bodies before they were discovered by humans.

“Do you remember Frank?”

“The human who thought he got turned into a vampire because you bit him during sex once?”

“That’s him.” She chuckled at the memory and then sighed with amusement. “He’s a cleaner these days. I talked him into giving me the head after the rest had been catalogued.”

“Won’t that get him in trouble?”

“Probably.”

“Don’t you care?”

“Not especially.” She frowned when I gave her the look. “Please don’t lecture me, Addie.” She bared her fangs then pointed at them. “I’m carnivorous. Dare I say, a maneater.” She hooked her fingers into claws and raked the air with them. “This is what I do. I use them, and then I throw them away.”

“So basically, you’re a predatory litterbug.”

“I don’t believe in double dipping.” A shudder rippled through her. “Do you know how many alcohol wipes I used before I bit him? Five. And now he’s always baring his throat around me and talking about blood exchanges like he’s seen in the movies.” She gagged a little. “He believes everything he sees on TV. It’s ridiculous.”

“Mmm-hmm.”

I didn’t remind her of the week she spent as my uninvited guest, the better for me to play nurse to her, after she accidentally drank the blood of someone who had eaten pizza for dinner. Convinced she was going to die from garlic poisoning, she wouldn’t leave my bed or put on clothes, determined to leave the world the way she came into or some such nonsense. Also something she saw in a movie.

After seven days, her lucky number, she rose from the bed and proclaimed herself cured by the grace of—I wasn’t really listening. At that point, I had a week’s worth of naked vampire to wash out of my sheets before I could sleep in my room again. Plus, she had been sipping her warmed blood in bed and spilled it all over my good comforter.

“What will you do if your man sneaks into your room at night?”

“He’s not my man.” Just my future husband. “And I’ll stab him with the stake I keep under my pillow.”

Given my line of work, I had to be prepared a vampire might follow me home one day. From where I sat, the trick worked on fiancés who followed me home too.

“Bloodthirsty.” She chuckled. “I like it.”

Finding a man pinned to my wall, a macabre buttery caught midair, would make her century.

“Of course you do.” I nudged her with my foot. “What is that? Are you…purring?”

“Am I? That’s embarrassing.” She touched her lower stomach. “Oh. No. It’s my phone. I set it on vibrate.”

“You set it on vibrate, and then you shoved it down your pants.” I was never borrowing her phone again. No matter how much hand sanitizer she used after the fact. “Like a normal person.”

“I’m not a person,” she said absently. “I’m a creature of the night.”

She bared her fangs halfheartedly and hissed for emphasis.

“Who’s calling?” I nudged her again. “Gustav?” I leaned over. “I noticed you wore his favorite boots.”

“Clan Willis has put out a BOLO on Angelo, Ron Turner’s lover.”

“Do you think he heard about the murder?”

“The preliminary findings must have been uploaded into the cleaners’ database.” Her lips twisted. “I was on-scene. I provided the identification. The gory details can’t have been listed yet, but his name might have been enough to send Angelo into a tizzy.”

“Vampires are so dramatic.”

“Live as long as we do, and you begin to crave sensation. What is love if not sensation? What is loss if not the ultimate sensation?” She tapped the end of my nose. “And he must look good while doing it.”

“Are you telling me he’s at the tailor’s getting fitted for mourning attire? That he would ditch his clan, tell no one where he’s gone, and duck out just to get a new black ensemble?”

Depending on his age, he might commission enough black suits to last him a full year.

Vampires: The original drama llamas.

“The news can’t have been delivered.” She sniffed. “He has to hurry before it’s formally announced.”

“I held my sister’s hand while she died. I was in my pajamas, and so was she. I cried until I passed out and had to be carried to my room. The last thing on my mind was dashing out for a quick fitting.”

Cass did a thing she hated almost as much as germs. She apologized and meant it.

“I’m sorry, Addie.” She touched my leg in a mostly nonsexual way. “Humans love differently than we do. We might have been human once, but we lose that spark. What’s left is an echo of mortality and morality. You have the biggest heart of anyone I know, which is why it was so easy for me to insinuate myself into your life and bend you to my will.”

What she wanted from me then was a desperate partner in crime, someone willing to do the dirty work. The literal dirty work. Anything that might result in contamination from germs, diseases, so forth and so on. How she made it as a prostitute for so long boggled my mind. Sex was the ultimate fluid swapping experience, and she had been paid for it long before condoms, birth control, or STD preventives, let alone treatment.

Unless she was willing to coexist with germs until after she became a vampire. It happened like that sometimes. A weird trait, a personality quirk, a bizarre affectation ballooned until it took them over.

“Does that mean you wouldn’t mourn me if I got my throat ripped out on the job?”

“No.” A low rumble laced her voice. “It means I would rip the flesh from anyone who dared, strip by strip, and feed it to them. I would then hang them from their pinky toes, slash their throats, and let them exsanguinate. Once that was done, I would coffin them in cement and have the block dropped in the ocean.”

Touched by her twisted affection, I had to swallow back tears. “But would you look good doing it?”

“Dearest, darling one.” She plumped her cleavage. “I would look amazing.”

A familiar ringtone had me reaching for my phone. With Dad upstairs and Cass beside me, I had few guesses as to the culprit. The caller ID didn’t work, but I risked answering anyway. “Hello?”

“I’m going to be late,” Boaz said grimly. “Are you sure you want me to come back to your place? I can crash in the barracks. I don’t want to be an imposition.”

The slight pulling sensation in my chest drew me upright, and Cass too. “What happened?”

“There’s been another murder.” A siren muffled his voice. “I can’t get into the details, but I need to go.”

“Another murder,” I echoed. “As in two? As in someone else died tonight?”

“Yeah.” He exhaled hard. “Just wanted to let you know so you wouldn’t worry.”

Beside me Cass mashed her index fingers together and twisted them back and forth while making kissing noises.

Annoyance with her bled over onto him. “How presumptuous of you.”

“Just a turn of phrase.” His voice came out tired, defeated even. “I didn’t mean to imply, well, anything.”

A frustrated scream rose up my throat, but I couldn’t let it out. Once I started, I might not stop.

“I didn’t mean to snap at you.” Palming Cass’s forehead, I shoved her out of my face and hopped off the couch to begin pacing. “I appreciate the call. I would have worried if I woke and you weren’t here.”

Turning, I bumped into Cass, who had moved on to dry humping the doorframe while pointing at the phone and mouthing Boaz’s name. Recalling where she had been keeping her cell, I wished for bleach or a time machine to undo the last five minutes of my life. Or the last five years. I would take what I could get.

“You don’t have to patronize me.”

“I’m not.” I made a fist and hit myself in the forehead. “I’m just having a bad night, and it’s wrong for me to take it out on you.”

“The offer stands. I can go to the barracks.” He lightened his tone. “Hell, I can stay there all week if it’s easier.”

Two vampires dead. One a bounty of ours, the other his lover.

There was no reason for me to think it had anything to do with me, or Cass, or even Gustav, but I couldn’t let it go. The killings, so close to home, bothered me. Having Boaz this close, in my space, bothered me too, but he was a handy conduit to information. He was also the man I agreed to spend the rest of my life with, so I had to play nice. I had to smooth this over. I had to make this work.

Goddess, I was tired all of a sudden. Even the comforting weight of cash doused with Cass’s perfume did nothing to alleviate the dread coiling around my throat, tight as a noose.

“Come home,” I said, hating the waver in my voice. “I’ll be waiting.”

“All right.” He hesitated. “You’re good people, Addie.”

Good people didn’t invite their future husbands into their homes to spy on them.

Good people didn’t consider how far they were willing to go to keep their secrets.

Good people didn’t wish, even a little, that the label would stick, that the epithet was true.

I couldn’t afford to be good, and what’s worse, I couldn’t afford to let him catch me being bad.

Four

The front door on the old Whitaker place creaked open, and Boaz straightened from his lean. The motorcycle behind him, Wilhelmina, didn’t budge. She was built like a brick house, and it had been love at first sight across the crowded dealership floor. Too bad women didn’t come with operation manuals. Maybe then he’d have more luck understanding what made them tick, or how he always managed to tick them off.

The curvy blonde who stood in the doorway was just his type, which was a good thing, given she had agreed to marry him.

Gathering the takeout bags off Willie’s handlebars, he set his smile into familiar lines then approached.

“Sorry I kept you waiting.” Adelaide clutched the halves of her robe together at her throat. “I wasn’t expecting company tonight.”

The leather boots were the lace-up kind you wore to make a statement, usually a sexual one, but on her he couldn’t puzzle out what they meant. She wore them underneath a ratty green housecoat that fit what he knew of her personality. The sultry/slumpy combination confused the hell out of him. Still mulling over her choice in loungewear, he didn’t think to ask how she beat him inside without him noticing her park or enter.

Unless… Had she been here the whole time?

Boaz didn’t know her well enough to call her on a lie he wasn’t certain she had told, and it wasn’t like he was sharing his life story with her all in one sitting, so he didn’t push her for explanations. 

Still, the flush in her cheeks fit with a woman who had run down the stairs to greet him, convincing him she had been up in her room. Maybe with a lover? Why else the red face? The slight breathlessness that didn’t come from her attraction to him. So far, she had shown none. That worked for him. For once, he wasn’t eager to jump straight to the physical.

“No problem.” His gut knotted so hard at the thought of sex the smell of takeout made him want to run to the nearest bush and vomit. “I wasn’t waiting long.”

I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.

Two words stuck on repeat in his head. Damn it. At this point, he couldn’t say he if he meant them for her or for Grier or for both.

Maybe he meant them for himself too.

Goddess, I don’t want to be here. I want to go home. I want to pretend none of this happened—not Amelie’s arrest, not her disownment, and not this attempt to fix it—and for our lives to go back to normal.

This must be the karma he had been warned so many times would jump up and bite him on the ass one of these days. Well, sure enough, it had finally sunk its teeth in him and was having a good chew at his expense.

“That smells delicious.” Adelaide retreated behind the door, only her hands and head visible, but it didn’t erase the memory of those boots or the light dust coating them. “Let’s eat in the living room. The kitchen feels empty these days.”

Medical bills had drained the Whitakers’ coffers until a rundown house, a rare beauty in its day, was all they had to show for their station. They were an old family, a well-respected one, and most importantly— They were too poor to be picky about Adelaide accepting him to be used as damage control for his own family name.

“Works for me.” He carried the food in and waited on her to direct him. “Do you have any beer?”

“I don’t drink.” A slight hesitation then she cleared her throat. “Beer, I mean.”

So much for the hope alcohol might numb him to this required courtship, not that she was bad company. Her father was nice enough, but Boaz had yet to see the man sober. He struck Boaz as a scotch or whiskey drinker. He should have asked for that instead of a beer, but it was too late to backtrack now.

“That’s fine.” He flashed a practiced smile and received the expected response in the corresponding curve of her lips. “Water?”

“We might be poor,” she said, shutting the door behind him, “but we can afford sweet tea for guests.”

Kicking himself in the ass, he faced her. “That’s not what I—”

“I’m kidding.” She tucked the robe tighter until she became an Adelaide burrito. “Three doors down on your left is the living room. I’ll grab what we need and meet you there.”

Afraid he might trip over his tongue again, he kept it simple. “Okay.”

On his way past the staircase, he couldn’t help noticing more of the dirt that dusted her boots had left prints on the carpet runner. The rest of the house was spotless, though he doubted they could afford help for the cleaning. That told him she was no stranger to hard work. Anything this family had, he felt certain was owed to Adelaide. And here she was, with him, ready to sacrifice herself yet again. He respected the hell out of her for that, and he hated himself a little more for taking advantage, but not enough to halt the proceedings.

The living room was shabby but comfortable, and its threadbare furniture put him at ease.

You’re a bull in a China shop. 

That was his mother’s go-to description of him, and she hadn’t been wrong when he was a teen, forever bumping into her knickknacks and breaking her doodads. The army helped him grow up, and the Elite polished him to a shine, but he still hated elegant spaces decorated with breakables and baubles that served no purpose but to spark insecurities in visitors.

A wall of gloomy portraits distracted him from thoughts of his own family, and he didn’t hear Adelaide until she placed cups, plates, and utensils on the low coffee table with soft clinking noises.

Cranking his head toward her, he watched her set their places. She hesitated over the second one every time, as if reminding herself to put out two of everything instead of one. It led him to believe she ate in here often, and alone. That wasn’t the only thing he noticed about her.

“Nice shoes.” He set his jaw, but it was too late. Might as well roll with it. “You like frogs?”

“Love them.” She waved him over and took the food to begin plating it. “They’re adorable.” 

She stuck out one leg and rotated her foot, showing off a plush treefrog house slipper she hadn’t been wearing earlier. The top of her foot was red with creases from the bootlaces, but he refrained from mentioning them. She would tell him if it was any of his business. Until they got married, she was free to play dress-up with other men. It’s not like he could ding her when his mind drifted back to Savannah every time he let himself slip.

Forgive me, Grier. Goddess knows you deserve better.

Damn it.

Even his own mind refused to cut him a break, not that he deserved one.

“You okay?” Adelaide paused. “You look like you’re hurting. Headache?”

Heartache, but he couldn’t tell her that. “I skipped lunch.”

“I’ll grab you some ibuprofen.” She passed him a glass of tea. “Drink that. The caffeine will help.”

Head cocked, he watched her dash into the kitchen, heard her too. So her shoes weren’t to blame for her earlier stealth. Now that was interesting. Not many people could sneak up on him, but she had with no problem. Silent appeared to be her default, as if she had to remind herself to make noise.

The suspicion blossoming in his gut wilted when she opened a cabinet, and he spotted the rows upon rows of medicine bottles that must have belonged to her little sister. Adelaide must have taught herself to be quiet for Hadley’s sake. Or, depending on how long their father had been an alcoholic, for her own.

Thanks to Boaz’s mother disowning his little sister, he had lost Amelie in name but not in the flesh. He could see her, talk to her, hold her. Amelie might not be a Pritchard anymore, but she was still alive. Adelaide had lost her sister and her mother, and he felt like an ass for admitting that it had made her all the more appealing.

Amelie couldn’t be a Pritchard again, that ship had sailed, but she could become a Whitaker. She might not be his sister legally, thanks to the disinheritance, but she could become his sister-in-law if the muleheaded imp took advantage of the opportunity he had arranged and stepped into the deceased Hadley Whitaker’s shoes.

Adelaide ought to have kicked his ass from here to the moon for asking her to turn her misfortune to his advantage, but she was as desperate as him. Neither of them could look too close at the other for fear their golden ticket might start flaking and reveal the tarnish underneath.

Arm braced on the cabinet door, Adelaide hung her head and sucked in a deep breath, girding her loins for dealing with him. A problem most women were happy to have. He liked her better for the glimpses of her struggle. That she was fighting to make the best of their situation, the same as him, meant something. What, he couldn’t say, but something.

Glancing away, he gave her privacy, and noted a gleaming pair of keys tossed in a decorative bowl on one of the side tables next to the couch. The dull set beneath it must belong to the dinged-up sedan he spotted in the garage, the one she drove to their first meeting. Unless he was mistaken, and a gearhead like him never was when it came to cars, that was the Ferrari logo on the fob.

“Here you go.”

Caught snooping, Boaz bristled like a spooked cat. Damn but the woman was quiet as a wraith. “Thanks.”

“No problem.” She touched his shoulder, but there was nothing sexual in the press of her fingers. It was more of a guiding hand, urging him toward the food and away from the keys. “So…Keanu?”

Intrigued by her mysteries, he searched Adelaide’s face for more than the exhaustion that plagued her, but he found no clues. “Only if you promise not to spoil the movie for me.”

“I’m a talker.” She winced. “I talk through them, over them, and after them.”

“Can two people with differing movie ethics coexist without killing one another?”

“Put a TV in the bedroom if you need your own.” She shrugged. “This one is mine. My TV, my rules.”

The forty-inch flat screen was pristine but dated. Clearly Adelaide took care of what was hers.

Encouraging as far as revelations go, but it made that damn noose of obligation cinch tighter. He didn’t need a caretaker. He needed…

Grinding his teeth, he clamped down on that useless line of thought.

This wasn’t about his needs. Otherwise, he would be sitting on a couch in Woolworth House, stealing kisses—or trying to—from Grier. This was about family, about keeping his word, and about being the man Adelaide deserved.

“Bedroom?” He took a seat on the sofa beside her. “I figured you would move to Savannah with me.”

“Oh. Yeah. I plan on it.” Her voice softened. “I wasn’t thinking there for a minute.”

As the eldest daughter, she had inherited the title of Matron Whitaker. Had their finances not suffered, she would have brought a man into her family, into her house, and given him her last name. Instead, she had agreed to give up that title in favor of becoming Matron Pritchard. Losing her identity had to hurt, but his hands were tied. That was one line in their marriage contract he would not strike.

“You’re welcome to stay here, as long as you can handle your duties remotely.” He hadn’t meant to make the offer, but her expression begged him for some glimmer of hope he provided on reflex. “My parents are in good health, and there’s my little brother to consider too. We’ve got a packed house.” He tucked into his meal. “That doesn’t mean I can’t make room for you, and your dad, but you’ve got options.”

“Dad won’t leave this house.” She toyed with her food, pushing it across her plate. “As much as I’ll miss him, I won’t miss it. I’m looking forward to a fresh start, away from all the memories.”

“There’s no rush,” he assured her. “We can take this as slow as you like.”

“I appreciate that.” Her timid smile told him she was still trying, and he couldn’t ask for more than that. “I could use more time for Dad to adjust to the idea of me leaving, though. I’ll need to set up housekeeping too, since I won’t be around to clean or cook for him.”

“I’ll make it happen.” He didn’t imagine the relief in her expression, or the quick lash of her temper for daring to let someone else shoulder a burden that was hers. “You can pick the housekeeper, and I’ll vet them.”

“Ah.” She stabbed a dumpling with her fork. “You don’t trust my judgment, but you want brownie points for framing the offer as if you do.”

Prickly, prickly. Handling her when money was involved might require wearing gloves.

“The person you choose for the job is up to you. I won’t interfere with that decision. I just want to make sure we’re leaving your dad with someone we can trust to take care of him.”

We.

Just like that, she and he were a we.

The room spun around its edges, and his throat grew tight. This was moving too fast. Way too fast.

And Grier had no idea. No goddessdamn idea.

She would hate him for this, but not half as much as he despised his cultivated reputation for the message it would send her.

You’re better than me, Grier, better than I ever will be. I hope you know that.

“Giving up control is hard for me.” Adelaide kept nudging her food back and forth. “You don’t deserve me snapping at you.” She angled her head toward him but not her eyes. “You’ve been very kind, about everything.”

“We’re in this together.” For better or for worse. “We’ll figure it out.”

“Together,” she whispered, as if trying it on to see how it fit.

The phone in his pocket buzzed, and he checked the caller ID. “I have to take this.”

“No problem.” She ditched her fork for the remote. “I’ll get the movie set up before our food gets cold.”

Standing, he walked across the room for a modicum of privacy. “Boaz.”

“We got another one.” Chambers exhaled across the receiver. “This one down at the railroad museum.”

“I’ll be right there.” Boaz itched to get moving. “Hold the cleaners off as long as you can.”

Adelaide rose as he ended the call. “Work?”

“Yeah.” He scrubbed a hand over his prickly scalp. “Looks like I can’t stay after all.”

“No problem.” She tossed the remote aside. “I’ll walk you out.”

An honest laugh escaped him. “That eager to get rid of me?”

“No,” she said, dragging out the word like she was still making up her mind. “I was remembering what you said about a case keeping you in town. I didn’t want you to think you had to stay on my account.”

An hour or two made no difference to the dead. Boaz could have blown off work, plopped back down, and gotten to know Adelaide better on her home turf. That’s what he should have done, but he was a coward.

When Adelaide stared at him, his future looked back, and he couldn’t see Grier even on the periphery. The loss gutted him. So, yeah. He could have stayed and done the fiancé thing, played his role, but she gave the impression of being just as eager to get rid of him as he was to escape her.

“Night, Adelaide.”

“Goodnight, Boaz.”

Goddess, this was it, wasn’t it? The beginning. So why did it feel so much more like the end?