Chapter Eighteen
I made it back to my office with thirty minutes to spare. I’d walked around the block a couple of times first. Looking for the cowled woman. I reached out for her with my other senses. Felt nothing.
She’d either given up waiting or expected me to read the note and respond accordingly. I doubted I’d find her casually watching the place again. Especially after knocking me out with her power.
I entered the hallway. Smelled the musky scent of animal before I remembered the closet. Five dead goats. Being dead didn’t lessen their pungency.
Janet saw my expression as I entered the office and she stuck up a hand. “I know. The fridge is on its way. No sense in deodorizing things until they’re safely tucked away, now is there?”
“No, I suppose not. Any more complaints from the tenants?”
“I pointed out the eviction-without-cause clause in their contracts if they opened their mouths again. Didn’t even need to remind them of the phenomenal savings in rent they were enjoying.”
“Hard to get the right kind of people willing to occupy offices belonging to the daughter of the Devil.” I grinned as I said it. But it felt hollow.
I was the daughter of a living man. I knew his name now. Perry Davidson. More than I ever expected to know about him. The woman watching me—if she was a succubus—wouldn’t be related to me through him.
If she was related at all. I’d jumped on that notion too fast. I’d probably get my heart broken. Most succubi didn’t register with the federal government as required by law. They didn’t make themselves public. I’d wanted the legal protections. More than that. I was tired of hiding. Worrying that someone would find me and cut off my head. Or burn me alive. Whatever misguided way they’d try to make sure I stayed dead.
I thought about my motives for registering the moment the law had gone into effect. I hadn’t even hesitated. The answer was easy. I’d wanted to be accepted. Not in the warm and fuzzy sense. I didn’t make friends easily. But I wanted to belong somewhere. The way any new immigrant wanted to fit in.
Canadian born, I hadn’t technically been an American when I first snuck across the borders into Washington. The Registration Act allowed me to petition for citizenship. My past swept aside.
I felt giddy. I was an American after all. Because my father had been. That made me American through parental citizenship. Not that it would change anything. I’d become a naturalized citizen decades ago.
Still, even believing that I’d come to America as an immigrant, I’d lived here for a very long time. Paid my taxes. A lot of taxes. Contributed to society. I felt American. I loved America. Especially California.
“What’re you thinking, Bee?”
Janet was leaning against the doorframe. Watching me. Her eyes full of compassion. A sad smile on her lips.
“Just thinking how lucky I am to live in the greatest country in the world.”
She frowned and laughed in surprise. “What brought that on?”
“Perry Davidson. Turns out my father’s American. I was naturalized in the sixties when regulations were a little looser. When the first registration draft went into effect. Just realizing I would’ve been a citizen by birth if I could prove that I was his daughter.”
“Do you even have a birth certificate? I mean, I’ve never thought to ask. It’s never come up on a case.”
“A dodgy one. Granny Oglethorpe guessed at everything. Father was unknown. That much was true. Made up my mother’s name.” I laughed, bitterly. “I just realized now that the reverse is closer to home. I know my father’s name and have no clue who my mother was.”
Loneliness welled up in me. I glanced at my computer screen as if I could see my long dead mother through the screen-saver. Even a real name would be more than I had. It wouldn’t be enough. But something.
“You want me to see what our researcher can find out on him?”
I blinked as if I couldn’t focus. My skin had grown warm and pinpricks of ice bit into my belly. My hunger rose on its own. Even after consuming five adult male goats. It should’ve been enough to tide me over but Gibraltar had messed that up by touching me.
“Bee?”
“I’m listening. Thinking.” It wasn’t the complete truth. I didn’t want Janet to worry. She worried too much as it was. “Amperdyne supposedly dug out everything there was.” I thought about what I’d just said, focusing on my father to ignore the flash of hunger. “Only, they didn’t provide original sources. Just notes on the DNA test.”
“A DNA test? Bee, there wasn’t any DNA testing back in the 1930s.”
I shook off the hunger. Astonished that I’d ignored something so important. “I know that! Blast it. I should’ve asked about that when I saw the notation. How could anyone know that I was related to Perry Davidson?”
“I’ll get Mack on it.”
“No. Use Deshawn. He’s expensive, but the best.”
“He’s also a criminal.”
“Hackers aren’t all criminals. Doing illegal things doesn’t make someone a criminal.”
“Um, by definition I think it does.”
“Um, no.” I gave her the look she hated. It reminded her I was much older than she was. That she was the child by comparison. “Speeding is against the law. Murder is against the law but excused in self-defense. People who commit certain crimes aren’t criminals.”
“I understand what you’re saying. But I think the dictionary will prove you wrong.” She turned and went to contact Deshawn Brown as I’d requested.
Deshawn and I had crossed paths twice. Once because he’d been curious about meeting a succubus. Not in any kinky perverse obsessive way. Just intrigued by preternaturals. The second time had been because he’d needed help with a non-hacking criminal charge. I’d proven that he was innocent. He owed me for that. But I paid him for his services anyway.
Janet didn’t understand that dynamic. I couldn’t fully explain. Someday I might need him to do something important. More important than looking for information about my father. Someday, someone’s life might depend on calling in a favor that money couldn’t buy.
I looked at the clock again. Time was running out. And I was letting my personal life interfere with finding Vincent. I choked down laugher. What personal life? The name of my father. Impossible DNA. And a woman who had the power to make me fall asleep from a distance. I was more of a mess than I realized, if that was my idea of a personal life. Shaking my head, I returned my focus to Vincent until it was time to meet Beverly.
Chapter Nineteen
Beverly called to say she was off work even earlier than expected. I told her not to bother meeting me at the office. I still had a few calls to make. She didn’t object to meeting me at Dalton’s Speakeasy. As long as I didn’t stand her up.
I managed to arrive only five minutes late. That was a record for me and social obligations. Business meetings I arrived early. Maybe that said something about my priorities.
I scanned the room for the best place to sit when I recognized Beverly’s rigid but well-dressed back. Former military, she never relaxed her ramrod posture.
She was at the bar instead of one the few empty tables. I preferred to be a little more isolated for conversations. Jimmy was the greeter. Curly brown hair and pierced ears distracted from his angular features. He was only five-five and thin. His slight build made his large hands and feet look awkwardly disproportionate.
He knew me well enough to check the seating chart before glancing toward the back where I usually sat. “Let me move the suits to a window.”
He smiled and dashed off without waiting for confirmation. Polite but determined, he approached a group of businessmen at my table. I watched apprehensively. I didn’t want to cause a scene. Or bring any grief to the energetic young man.
One of Jimmy’s many decorative pins, which the employees were required to wear on their shirts, was a pink triangle. He didn’t cater to me out of sexual interest. Or because I tipped well. Although I’m sur
e that didn’t hurt. No, he was loyal because one night, I’d scared away a bunch of drunken, out of state frat boys. They’d seen the pin and decided to show Jimmy what Denver ‘thought of fags,’ as they put it.
The suits, three men and a woman, all beamed at whatever he told them. Picking up their drinks, happy to move. Maybe they preferred a window view to being near the kitchen door. Not me. I was happy with the clank and noise that kept people away.
I glanced back toward Beverly. She’d seen me and raised her drink up, pointing at the barstool next to her. I shook my head. Pointing to the table abandoned by the suits. She glanced forlornly at the hunky bartender for a few seconds before turning back to me. Her shrug was eloquent.
I gave the bartender a better look. It was Bryce. Jimmy’s on again off again boyfriend. He was incredibly handsome. Muscular and athletic. Smart. Kind. Funny. Early thirties. I wasn’t surprised by Beverly’s interest in him.
I met her at the table as Jimmy rushed back to wipe it down. Beverly didn’t catch the look in my eye as she touched Jimmy’s wrist politely. “The bartender. Is he single?”
Jimmy glanced at me and I laughed. “I’ll fill her in. The usual Jim.”
“Coming up, Bee the Beautiful!”
“Fill me in on what?” She glanced at Jimmy, saw the slight swish to his gait. “Oh. They a couple?”
“Sometimes. He just can’t seem to stay faithful.”
“With a body like that, I can imagine.” She sighed, wistfully. I laughed again and she glared at me as if I were mocking her. “What?”
“Not Bryce. He’s head over heels for Jimmy. Jimmy’s the one with intimacy issues.”
“He’s the tramp?”
“A sexy little tramp,” I replied, quoting Bryce on a rare moment of mutual intoxication. Well, maybe not mutual. But I’d matched him drink for drink.
“If you say so.” She eyed me sternly. Her gaze eventually flickering down to a file she’d placed in front of her. “Two drinks before we talk shop.”
“Okay. Why?”
“Because once we start, it’ll be nothing but.” She slammed the rest of her drink. Unlike me, Beverly didn’t have a ‘usual.’ The glass had a green residue at the bottom. Something Midori probably.
“Fine. How are things on your end?” I asked with a smile.
“About two pounds heavier than the last time I saw you. When are we going to start working out together again?”
“I take it Mario didn’t work out?”
She glowered at me. Then beamed when Jimmy dropped off a Malibu and Coke. “Bring me another Midori Sour. Oh, and a shot of tequila.”
“Are you driving?” I watched her for any hint of a lie.
“Not tonight. I’m going to make sure I can barely stand when I leave here.”
I frowned. “What’s the occasion?”
“How often do I get to go drinking with my girl, Bee?”
“So you and Mario are done.” It wasn’t a question this time.
“What makes you think that?’
“He’s the reason we stopped working out together.”
“Fuck him. On to new and better things.”
“What happened?” I didn’t need to ask. Mario had been controlling and jealous from the beginning. Beverly had believed that because she was with the CIA, she was stronger than him. That she only made the choices she did because she wanted to. Not because he forced her to.
A lot of strong women did stupid things when they were in love. Hell, so did a lot of strong men. I wasn’t one to judge, though.
“He decided to trade down for a newer model.”
I raised one brow. “How much newer?”
“Twenty-four.”
“Half his age.”
She studied me suspiciously. “You said age doesn’t matter.”
“It doesn’t. Except that I was thinking someone half his age might be more his level of emotional maturity.”
“I don’t think it’s her maturity he’s interested in. Top heavy is an understatement.”
I glanced at her breasts. They were full. Firm. Round. More than a few guys in the bar had been trying to decide if hers or mine were more appealing. I couldn’t help noticing. Being a PI wasn’t something I could just turn off.
“He’s stupid if he left you for bigger boobs.”
“Fuck him.” She looked around the room and then met my gaze again. “I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“For being that friend. The one who dumps her friends because the guy wants more time. Because he suddenly becomes the center of her universe.”
Jimmy came back with her drinks. She practically tore them from his grip before he could set them down. “Thanks.”
She slammed the tequila and stared at Jimmy who seemed startled by her behavior. “Do you need something?”
“No, Ma’am.” Jimmy disappeared on queue. One of his best qualities as a waiter. Not so good in a boyfriend.
“It happens, Bev.”
“I can’t believe I became that woman! Strong women don’t let men do that to them.”
“Now you’re being stupid. Love makes fools of us all. As the saying goes. It’s time tested and well-proven.”
“Fuck love.” She took a sip of her Midori Sour.
I smiled, relieved when she didn’t slam it. I followed suit, sipping my Malibu and Coke. “Mario was never good enough for you.”
“Tell me something I don’t know.”
“He tried coming onto me.”
She put down her drink and blinked at me. “Come again?”
“I didn’t tell you because you were smitten. All the signs were there. I’d be the one you hated. Not him.”
“That’s not fair. Or true. I’d have never hated you for his actions.”
I eyed her sternly through my sunglasses. “I recognize this place. Pyramids. Desert dunes. And that massive river!”
“I’m not in denial!”
I laughed and she scowled. “Okay. So maybe I am. I thought he’d be the one. My biological clock’s ticking. I wanted kids with the bastard. I wanted the ring and the white picket-fence. The works.”
“At least he didn’t propose before this all happened.”
“Enough about my miserable love life. What about you? Still celibate?”
“Yep. Still celibate.”
“It’s just not natural, Bee.” I laughed and she looked sheepish. “I’m sorry, that came out wrong.”
“I know. And you’re right. Celibacy is the most unnatural thing for an adult of any flavor. It’s not like I have a choice.”
“True. Nothing I could do for you if you were up on murder charges.” She sighed and took another sip. “I just wish there was someone for you. You’ve helped so many people. I’d put you up for a sainthood but I’m not Catholic.”
“Neither am. And I don’t meet at least one of the most important criteria.”
She eyed me sadly. “Being human?”
“Being dead.”
We laughed. Her shoulders loosened. Her eyes stopped narrowing with anger. “I’d be very sad if you were dead.”
“Me, too.”
She smiled but her eyes were serious. “Do you realize that you’re my only remaining girlfriend? Everyone else couldn’t compete with the job, long before Mario came along. He knocked you and the last couple of die-hards out of my life. You’re the only one to accept an invitation back in.”
“Give it time. Or make new friends.”
“One good one’s better than a dozen maybes.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“It was.”
I took a bigger gulp of my drink. “Now, if we’re done with the foreplay, can I see the file?”
“I said two drinks!”
“You’ve had two. Working on your third.”
“You know perfectly well what I meant.”
“I know. But if we talk about men all night we’ll both be frustrated and more than a little lonely.”
&
nbsp; “A regular Pollyanna you are.” She slid the folder over to me. “What are you into, Bee? And I don’t mean kink.”
“What do you mean?”
“This guy’s MI-6. Deep cover. I got asked by some pretty important people why I was looking into this identity.”
“What kind of important people?”
“Stop answering my questions with questions. You wanted info, I got it. No questions asked.”
“But now you’re asking.”
“I need to know if this is gonna come and bite me on the ass.”
“What’d you tell the people asking why?”
“I told them it was a background check on an anonymous tip.” She looked worried. “I don’t think it flew too well.”
“It’s closer than you think. Paul Chandler stopped me outside my office last night. Gave me information on the Victor Gibraltar kidnapping.”
“That’s FBI business. Not CIA. We aren’t allowed to operate inside the U.S.”
“That’s not entirely true. Preternaturals fall under CIA jurisdiction, don’t we?”
Beverly nodded and tried to take another sip. She stared at the empty glass annoyed. “You investigating Gibraltar doesn’t make that CIA interest.”
“How about the fact that the kid might’ve been seduced by a local vampire coven?”
Beverly’s eyes perked up. The booze hadn’t hit her yet. She could hold liquor better than a lot of men I knew. Not as well as I could. But that’s only because it was nearly impossible for me to get drunk.
I touched her arm with a gloved hand. “To top it off, Gibraltar’s daytime security’s a werewolf named Anton Thrace. He was kidnapped earlier today.”
“FBI reported that one to us. The director passed on it.” She pushed back in her chair to sit ramrod stiff again. “Might’ve been different if we’d known about the coven. So what’s Chandler’s involvement in this?”
“He claimed to be working for Blake Mansfield. One of Gibraltar’s attorneys. Wanted to give me insight into some of the things his employer did and didn’t say. But my Spidey-sense went off. MI-6 makes perfect sense. Only, why are they involved?”
The Billionaire's Heir (Sucubus For Hire Book 1) Page 16
