The Billionaire's Heir (Sucubus For Hire Book 1)

by Michael Don Anderson

  I stared at them all. “You still haven’t told me anything. Why not go to the Feds? If he’s sixteen, the vampires would have to give him back.”

  Gibraltar glanced at Joseph. The vampire sighed. An artifact. Vampires didn’t breath. Any sighing was intentional. “We’d have to explain our association with these individuals. Prove that they took him. We’d rather not.”

  I stared hard at Mansfield. “How do you feel about your cousin’s disappearance?”

  He shook his head. “We aren’t close. Grandfather thought we’d be safer if no one associated Maureen and I with Vincent. Or each other. Honestly, I don’t know him well enough to wish him harm.”

  They were circling all the questions of motive. I couldn’t decide whether to take the case if I didn’t have the facts. I stopped being subtle. “But the money?”

  Gibraltar put both palms flat on the table and shook his head. “The grandchildren all inherit a third of the estate by means of secret trusts, Miss Savage. Blake won’t profit if Vincent dies. Vincent will run my company, true. But under the guidance of a board of directors. There isn’t extra money as a result.”

  I wasn’t following the math. “Wouldn’t he? It’s divided in two then, isn’t it?”

  “No. I wanted to take away any internecine temptations. The shares of a deceased grandchild go to certain charitable trusts if they leave no issue.” Gibraltar touched Mansfield’s shoulder. The first sign of familial affection I’d seen. “Blake’s life is better for not carrying the Gibraltar name. A reward for his sacrifice.”

  I wasn’t an expert at corporate organization or business practices, but I knew Gibraltar was ignoring a lot of intangible benefits that came from being his heir. Whoever ran the company would have a driver. Extra bodyguards. An expense account. Hell, a whole high-profile celebrity lifestyle went along with it. It was more than enough for someone to kill over. Even a henpecked and cowed cousin like Mansfield appeared to be.

  I decided to ignore the obvious for the moment. “Is your involvement with the coven illegal?”

  I was a private detective. Covering up anything illegal on behalf of a client could cost me my license. I wasn’t going to let that happen. Not even for a billionaire.

  “No, Miss Savage. Morally ambiguous perhaps. I’ll even admit to it being within the grey areas of business practices. A political détente if you will. But not illegal.”

  Gibraltar held my gaze. Peering through my sunglasses. They weren’t as dark as my day-wear lenses. I wasn’t completely masked. He’d forgotten I wasn’t one of his usual flunkies. Someone to bully. He’d forgotten that touching me wasn’t the only way to get hurt.

  “Hank!”

  Joseph grabbed Gibraltar’s wrist. Squeezed it until pain filled the old man’s eyes. Gibraltar blinked and tried to pull away. He slowly focused on the vampire. Like waking from a dream.

  Joseph searched the old man’s face. “You don’t stare a succubus in the eyes. I told you that before this meeting!”

  “Was I bewitched?” Gibraltar had trouble thinking. Slow to come back to himself. When he did, he grew anxious. Angrier than he’d been. “You used your power on me!?”

  “No, Mr. Gibraltar. You did it to yourself.” I didn’t mention that I could’ve use his eye-contact as a gateway to my power. To control him. Make him answer my questions as part of an overwhelming desire to please me. But I’d spent decades learning to rein it in. I wasn’t about to lose control in a room full of witnesses. The sunglasses were for everyone’s benefit.

  “You weren’t mesmerized. Not yet.” Joseph smiled at me. Not harmless. I saw the snake in his eyes. “Miss Savage’s reputation is stellar. You don’t use your power on clients. Even though you could influence a bump in fees that way.”

  “The laws against vampiric mind-control apply to me as well, Joseph.” I started to stand again, glaring at the vampire before I faced Gibraltar. My appetite was returning. Fueled by his moment of forgetfulness. “No one would come to me if they couldn’t trust me. And I won’t work for someone who doesn’t.”

  “Please.” To my surprise, it was Blake Mansfield who reached out a hand. Sliding it toward me across the table. Stopping before touching me. Even with the gloves on. “My grandfather’s just cautious. With as much money as he has, he has to be. Surely you can understand that.”

  Joseph nodded. No longer threatening me. Not harmless either. Something in-between. “A sixteen year old’s life is on the line, Miss Savage.”

  “Blake’s clearly older than Vincent. Why wasn’t he given the Gibraltar name? Or named your heir even as an Everwright?”

  Mansfield turned to stare at his grandfather. Waiting for the answer. Even though he must’ve already heard it before.

  Gibraltar frowned sternly. “My father passed this legacy to me as his surviving son. I would’ve passed it to my son, Charles.”

  “Vincent’s his son.” I looked at Mansfield. “You’re not.”

  “In a nutshell.” The young lawyer shrugged. Resentment in his eyes. Not hatred. Disappointment.

  I stared at Gibraltar. “You trust Joseph? That he’s not in cahoots with the coven?”

  The old man looked up at me like electricity had run through his chair. “Joseph’s been with me a long time, Miss Savage. I trust him.”

  The vampire clasped his hands together and smiled at me. “There’s no profit in it for me.”

  “So will you do it?” Mansfield again. His eyes on my lips. He hated me. But he wanted my help. Curiouser and curiouser.

  I took a second to consider them. “I’m not cheap.”

  Joseph shrugged. “But you’re discreet.”

  I surveyed the patrons at the tables around us. It was loud. No one was listening. Despite the occasional stares our way.. That didn’t mean someone couldn’t be eavesdropping electronically. Maybe Gibraltar’s people had taken precautions against that. He was an incredibly rich man.

  “That, yes.”

  “Then you’re worth every penny.” Gibraltar stood up. Mansfield joined him. “Enjoy your dinner. I’ve already told the mater di to put it on my tab. A thank you for the inconvenience of meeting me in public. On top of your hourly rate.”

  He and Blake started to move away from the table. The vampire didn’t join them. “Joseph?”

  “You don’t want the lady to dine alone do you?” He purred like a contented cat. Gazing into my eyes behind the sunglasses. Safe from my power, even if I’d wanted to use it.

  “It’s a moot point, Gentlemen. As you must know, I don’t eat the kinds of foods humans do.” I stood, annoyed that there was tempting food all around for the taking but all of it off limits. “I’m not in the mood for experiencing tastes for taste’s sake.”

  I didn’t mention that I’d be sick afterwards. Enjoying human spices and flavors had unpleasant consequences for me. A weakness they didn’t need to know. Some cultures required that I dine with a client. Keeping my vulnerability a secret was part of my long life.

  Joseph grinned without joining us on his feet. “You can drink alcohol. Ask me questions about Vincent’s habits. His circumstances.”

  I didn’t smile. Very few people knew I could drink booze without any ill-effects. Fewer than knew about a vampiric blood-link.

  Had he met one of my kind sometime in the past? Was he old enough for that to be a strong possibility? I was curious about my people. But not enough to sit through a bottle of wine with Joseph on the off-chance.

  “Have the information sent to my offices by tomorrow morning. I’ll read it over. Then I’ll have a reason to talk to you face to face.”

  “I like the idea of us being face to face.”

  Blake glanced at Joseph. It took him a moment to realize that the vampire was flirting with me. The young attorney stared at my cleavage as he spoke. “Can a succubus feed from the undead?”

  Good boy. He’d learned from his grandfather’s mistake. But I frowned at him anyway. It was a personal question. One that I’d never been asked bef
ore.

  Joseph answered for me. “No. No they can’t.”

  “How would you know?” I looked for any hint of deception in his eyes.

  “You aren’t the first woman like you I’ve met.” He leaned toward me. “If you stay I’ll tell you all about it. You might even have a guess at how old I am.”

  “I’m not that desperate for a date,” I said without anger.

  He’d confirmed it. It was tempting. Even I hadn’t ever met another succubus. Not in person. He might know things I hadn’t learned, yet.

  I stared into his eyes. His lips twitched into a smug smile. He thought he had me. Joseph was too confident. Too unafraid of my power. I wasn’t used to being at a disadvantage. And there was one other problem.

  “And just because I can’t feed off of you, doesn’t mean the reverse isn’t true.”

  He ginned, pleased by my words. “Too bad. It would’ve been fun to try.”

  Joseph stood and the three men walked away. I stared at their backs until they were out the door. I touched the Glock at my hip for reassurance, hidden by my jacket. It was an ultra-compact model. Easy to hide when I went out in public, but completely Glock reliable.

  Regular ammunition wouldn’t help against the vampire. If he decided to try something for real. I’d have to start carrying wood-tipped shells. Usually, it was potential sex with me that was dangerous. In his case, I wasn’t so sure.

  Chapter Two

  I arrived at my East Village office the next morning an hour earlier than scheduled. My hair was tied up in a pony-tail. To keep it from distracting me while I worked. My daytime sunglasses were too dark to be seen through. I wore a navy-blue silk blouse that would allow easy movement if I had to fight. Or run. The frilled edges of a fashionable black sports bra peeked out of it. A silver cross nestled in the press of my breasts. My navy skirt was short. I could kick a man in the face with the heel of my running shoes without trouble. It would flash him my panties but not slow me down. A shiny black leather belt with silver clasp in the shape of a sitting-cat finished the outfit.

  Janet Frisby, my receptionist, was arranging her desk as I walked through the door. She jumped a bit at seeing me.

  “Bianca! You’re never this early.”

  I smiled at the woman. Janet was fifty-four-years old. Thin but not frail. Her moplike, curly hair had started to grey. She left it natural. Wire-rimmed glasses sat on her small, no-nonsense nose. She wore a conservative one piece dress with a dark floral pattern that surprisingly didn’t make her look like a granny. Her lipstick was a muted pink-brown. Just enough eye-shadow and base to keep from being washed out. She’d been unremarkable when I’d first hired her thirty-years earlier. Now she had character. No. Character was something a man had. She had a beauty which had been hidden behind her youth.

  “A new client. Any files in the drop box?”

  “I haven’t checked. Give me a mo’.” She trotted out into the hallway.

  The office complex was on Broadway Court, between First and Ocean. From the third story rooftop, I could see a sliver of the Pacific Ocean to the south. The individual office doors were kept locked and unlocked by the tenants. Depending on the hours each business kept. But the entrance into the main building hallway was almost always left open. Security cameras and a full time guard kept it safe from burglars, homeless people and amorous teenagers.

  Most of my tenants had mail slots in their doors. I had a drop box in the hall big enough to hold a dishwasher. The advantage of owning the place.

  Janet came back in, carrying an armful of files. “I’m glad we’re on the first floor. Someone has their reading cut out.”

  “I don’t suppose you’d like to help?” I grinned at her.

  “No, thank you. I remember the last time you conned me into taking files. I still have nightmares about the mutilated corpse.”

  “I really didn’t think the police would include crime-scene photographs, Janet. I promise.”

  “I know. I’m not mad. Just—I’m just not willing to risk it again.”

  I smiled back at her grimly. “I was just kidding anyway. I think the less you know about this case, the better off you’ll be.”

  “Dangerous?” She watched me. Worried. Looking for any trace of a lie.

  “Probably. They don’t come to me when it’s not.”

  Janet made a noise of disapproval and walked the files into my office. Placing them carefully on the only clear corner. “Have you eaten?”

  Her voice always tightened when she asked about my meals. She forced herself to say ‘eat’ instead of ‘fed.’ That would’ve been impolite. And Janet was anything but impolite. She’d gotten used to my rituals. The ones necessary for maintaining my celibacy. Neither of us wanted to think about the last time I’d slipped up.

  “Not yet. I want to get a start on that.” I pointed at the stack of files. “See what Kenny has today, would you?”

  Kenny Lestrange was part homeless—part entrepreneur. Twenty-eight years old. Lanky. Filthy clothes because he liked them that way. Blue eyes that were haunted by memories no one else could see. He had connections on the streets that could provide me with questionable items. His business dealings were like Henry Gibraltar’s. Grey area. Nothing illegal. Obtaining things that I could never ask Janet to track down for me.

  She nodded. Even managed a weak smile. I hadn’t seen the smile for several weeks after Kenny had provided three adorable puppies. Usually he had crates of rats. Animals suffering from terminal illnesses with no one to care for them. I’d had a little talk with Kenny after that. He promised no more puppies. Or kittens. Nothing cute and cuddly.

  I plopped into my padded leather chair and got comfortable. Janet hadn’t been joking. It was going to be a very long read. I pushed my sunglasses onto the top of my head and grabbed the top file.

  Flipping it open, a picture of Vincent Gibraltar was the first thing I saw. Cute. Doe-eyed. Innocent. I glanced at the back of the 8x10. Dated three months ago. He looked younger than sixteen.

  Not that that meant anything. To me, everyone looked younger than they were. I’d lived almost seventy-some-odd-years among humans. Out in the open once they’d passed the Preternatural Tolerance Act in the 1960s. Before that, well, I’d spent my childhood in the forests of Canada. Alone at first. Hunters had killed my mother. Succubi didn’t have fathers. Not living ones, I’d learned years later.

  I rubbed my neck. I hadn’t slept well. Something about Gibraltar’s reaction to me at our meeting left me feeling dirty. Gave me dreams about the past. Reminding me of eager and aggressive men who’d gazed too long into my pre-adolescent eyes. Men who’d tried to do more than just look once they’d been mesmerized.

  I hadn’t known what I was. Not until a half-blind Christian woman found me. Took me in without judgement.

  Matilda Oglethorpe had been old enough to be a grandmother. Not that she’d had any kids of her own. Kindly. Lonely. She’d taken me in and saved my life without realizing it. Too many people had witnessed my first mistakes. Instincts for self-preservation that left the victims dead but my virtue intact.

  Granny Oglethorpe had only seen a helpless young girl wandering alone in the woods. Dirty. Hungry. Always hungry because I didn’t know how to feed properly. Only out of fear. Because men had tried to force themselves on me. Or kill me.

  Even when Granny’s weathered hands had first felt along my scalp, brushing my hair so long ago, she hadn’t been afraid. She’d paused, touching the nubs of my horns. Took the time to feel them for several minutes. But she hadn’t thrown me out.

  She was the one who’d told me what I was. Her. A devoutly religious human. A Christian who’d never met another creature like me. I asked if the horns made me evil. She’d laughed. She said she didn’t believe anyone was inherently evil. Not even the Devil. She believed that he was a trickster. Put in our path to tempt us. But we all had free will. God would never be so cruel as to force someone into darkness. It was the first time someone had made me feel valu
ed for more than lechery.

  Granny taught me how to hide my needs. Suppress them. She even kept me from encountering any men who might come around. Men were the temptation of any girl she said. Human or otherwise. She hadn’t known just how right she was. I’d never told her what they’d tried to do. It was too dark for a soul as pure as hers.

  Women were safe for me. Mostly. I didn’t have accidents with women. Feeding on them wasn’t any more satisfying than draining a dying mongrel. I’d have settled for a dying animal just then. My arms trembled with need.

  “Bianca?”

  Janet stood in the open doorframe. Watching me reminisce. Her expression reminded me of Granny Oglethorpe’s face. Kind. Worried. Demanding. Each in their own ways. Hopefully Janet hadn’t seen the hunger in my eyes.

  “Yes?”

  “Kenny says he’s having an inventory problem.”

  I stared, brows furrowed. “What the Devil does that mean?”

  “That’s what I asked.”

  “And?” I tried not to lose my patience. Janet had a habit of forcing me to pry for the details. Dramatic presentation I supposed.

  “He said no one’s seen a rat in the city for three days.”

  “That’s a first.” I kicked off my shoes and placed my feet on the desk. It annoyed Janet but she’d learned to pick her battles. “The Mayor’ll be happy about that. Good for tourism I suppose. Kenny knows I need a regular delivery!”

  “He said things came up. Sends his apologies. He also said he doesn’t know when he’ll have anything in stock.” Janet wasn’t smiling. We both knew how serious this problem was. Maybe for Kenny. Definitely for me.

  “What about the Rodriguez family?”

  Janet blinked, confused by the segue. “The lawyers?”

  “Really? Attorneys might help out my food problems?” I demanded.

  “No need to get sarcastic.”

  I bit back another sardonic remark. “The Rodríguezes that make the tamales for us at Christmas. My old clients. Doesn’t the son raise goats?”

  Janet threw her hand to her mouth. “You’re not bringing goats in here! And what would we do with the bodies after? No!”