“Touch her,” Nick said pleasantly, “and I'll empty my nine into your nose.”
“Children,” Sinclair warned. “It seems the late Mrs. Taylor has a gift in death, as in life, of getting on my wife's nerves and distracting us from our point.”
“Just like your wife!”
“Shut up,” I insisted. “Tell us what you want, or get lost. Or both.”
“Fine,” the Ant huffed, and vanished.
Well! That was unexpected, and welcome.
“Guess what else all these guys have in common,” Nick said, rattling my empty Coke glass. Tina appeared from nowhere, refilled it, and glided away. He absently handed the glass to me, and I didn't know whether to be flattered he'd noticed I needed a refill, or annoyed he was treating the brilliant Tina like she was a waitress. “Go on. Guess. You'll never guess.”
“Since we'll never guess,” Sinclair said, “why don't you just tell us?”
“Just one teensy guess?”
“Niiiiiick,” I whined.
“Um. Ah. Hmm. They were all killed by a rogue cop or cops?” Sinclair inquired innocently.
We both stared at him.
“Goddammit,” Nick cursed. He ignored, or didn't notice, Sinclair's flinch. “You gotta tell me how you knew that. I know for a fact there's no suckheads on the force.”
“No, but there are sources available to the suckheads. As you well know, Detective Berry, nothing leaks more quickly or messily than a police station.”
“So cops are tracking down bad guys and executing them?” I stared at the pictures. Gunshot wounds, all of them.
“The ones we can't put away legally, yeah. This guy.” Dave tapped the photo of a pale, brown-?eyed man who looked extremely pissed off, either because or in spite of the bullet wound over his left eye. “This guy was a burglar, and worse. He'd rape whoever was asleep in the house – we think he was getting the security codes from someone inside the security company, but he, uh, died before we could prove anything.”
“Charming,” Sinclair said coldly.
“Anyway, after the rape, he'd take everything out he could carry. We know he did it seven or eight times, but couldn't ever prove it. No ID. No prints. No semen. Nothing. Then – bam. He shows up deader than hell.”
“And your problem with this is... ?” Sinclair's dark brows arched.
“Because the cops are good guys,” I said before Nick could reply. “I mean, it sucks if they can't catch a rapist, jeez, you won't hear me argue that, but we have laws. We have rules. The good guys can't all of a sudden throw the Constitution out the window and strap down and shoot people.”
I looked at Sinclair and Nick, who had identically blank looks on their faces. “Well. They can't.”
“As it is, I agree with the psycho vampire queen. Which brings me here.”
“Why does the house of Sinclair have to clean up your mess?” my husband asked quietly.
“It's like your wife said. We make various promises and pledges when we get our badges – I won't bore a sociopath like you with them – but what it boils down to is, we follow the law. And boys and girls, Sherri's boy Nicky loves the law.”
“Don't you have a special team or task force or whatever working on this?”
“Yeah. I'm it.”
“You? Just one guy? I mean, I know you're good at your job, Nick, but – ”
“Well, let's say I have some influence with the captain.” Nick mimed driving a tractor.
“No doubt. And, could it be, the police do not necessarily wish for these people to be caught?”
“It could be,” he admitted. “But they're gonna get caught. 'Cause I've got a secret weapon.” He pointed at me.
“What makes you think – oh, shit, never mind, you know I'll do it.”
“That's true.” Nick smirked. “I did know it.”
Chapter 15
“You should let him solve his own problem,” Sinclair said in a low voice, as Nick let himself out. “He's playing on your misplaced guilt.”
“Misplaced? We raped his brain. And lied about it. To his face. For over a year.”
He shrugged. He'd been a vampire too long; his conscience went right out the window sometimes.
“Have you ever considered – ”
“Yes.”
“Don't be a wiseass. Have you ever thought that the guy hates us and knows how to kill us, but hasn't?”
“I credit Jessica with that more than Detective Berry's good sense.”
“Point,” I conceded. “And yeah, it's a little obnoxious that he came over all expecting me to say yes right away – ”
“Also, you're flattered.”
“I am not! Okay, a little. Listen, this is our chance to win him back!”
“And why,” he sighed, rubbing my shoulders, while I tried not to purr and lean into him, “would we want to do that?”
“Listen. Oooh, don't stop. The whole reason you pushed Jess to go out with him was because you wanted a source in the police department.” I paused. “Another source, I mean. That reminds me. You've been keeping secrets. More than usual, I mean.”
“Oh?” he said silkily, tightening his grip. My collarbones groaned under the pressure. Or maybe that was me groaning. “Because there are one or two things I would like to discuss with you as well, if you're opening that door.”
“Ahhhh... well, that's, um – ” Fortunately, I was saved by the sound of splintering wood, and then Nick skidded down the foyer, his face a mask of blood.
“Face us, false queen!”
“Oboy,” I said, nearly tripping as Sinclair grabbed me and thrust me behind his back. “That doesn't sound good.”
Chapter 16
They streamed in, stepping smoothly over Nick's unconscious body. They moved like cats and had the hungry, feral look of same. At least, as far as I could tell from peeking over Sinclair's shoulder; I kept trying to elbow him out of the way, and he kept jamming me behind him.
“Uh, hi. You'd be, um, Garrett's friends, right?”
Happy, Skippy, Trippy, Sandy, Benny, Clara, and Jane glared at me as one. Somewhere, they'd clothed themselves – probably at the farm, I was seeing an awful lot of flannel – but still had the rank smell of the unwashed. They were all too thin, even bony. Their hair was varying colors and degrees of snarled.
“Well,” I plunged, “I'm sorry I wasn't here when you stopped by the other night – ”
They weren't moving. Perhaps I was dazzling them with my ineptitude. It had happened before.
“But at least this gives me a chance to, um, explain and even, um, apologize – ”
“Do not apologize to them,” Sinclair snarled. “One such as you should not even speak to them.”
“Shush! He's cranky,” I explained, “no blood tonight, you know how it is.”
“We know exactly how it is,” Clara said.
“Oh. Right.” Awkward. What was interesting wasn't their reaction so much as Sinclair's. He wasn't angry so much as – as – offended, that was the word. Their presence offended him. I guess the Fiends were the vampire untouchables.
