He didn’t. As we pulled up, I saw the man leaning against a taxi. Arms folded imperiously across his chest. Dressed in the same suit as before. Or at least the same color. He eyed the car guardedly as I opened my door.
I thanked the Uber driver and brushed off my skirt to make sure it draped properly as I stepped out. I should’ve changed. Nothing I could do about it now. I approached Mansfield with a smile.
“You’re late.” He thumped the taxi with a palm. It drove away behind the Uber car. Then he seemed to actually see me. Maybe it was the oil smeared on my jacket. Or the deep scuffing on my boots. Very little blood had made it onto my clothes. “What happened?”
“Unexpected visitors dropped by my place. The police report took longer than I hoped.”
“One of the perks of being a PI? Angry ex-husbands?”
I eyed him somberly as I unlocked the entrance to the building. “I don’t get angry ex-husbands after me. They’re too afraid. This was because of Gibraltar.”
“Pardon?” He stepped closer. “Vampires did this?”
“They aren’t the only preternatural element on offer, Mr. Mansfield.”
“Anton wouldn’t have attacked you.”
“No. Not Anton. Keep trying. .I’m sure the brain cells will kick in eventually.”
His mouth opened in an ugly snarl. “I didn’t come here to be mocked, Miss Savage.”
“No. And I’m not very congenial after being attacked by three brutish werewolves, either”
He froze, one hand reaching out as if he needed to touch me. To make sure I was real A physical response to disbelief. I’d seen it more than once. One of those things that people did that revealed that they were genuinely surprised. Without even knowing they did it.
“Are you alright?”
I unlocked the door and walked inside. He followed. “A few scrapes. And I need a new holster, apparently. Claws are murder on leather straps.”
“You shot them? Killed them? Who were they?”
I kept walking. Past the closet with the goat. I reached out my power. Completely under my control. Still full to capacity. My hunger was like a bear slow to wake from hibernation. It grumbled and breathed deeply. I let the goat alone. It had water and food according to Janet. It’d wait till the morning.
Truthfully, it wasn’t even appetizing now. I’d eaten something much more substantial. Something powerful enough that I worried it’d be hard to go back to feeding off of livestock and rodents. Well, unless I let myself get hungry again. I hated to do that.
“I didn’t kill them.”
I hadn’t had time to reload the silver-tipped ammo. Not that I was planning on sharing that with anyone. Mansfield might not have known about the werewolf threat, but I liked the element of surprise in case I was jumped again. No telling who he might inadvertently reveal to the wrong person. They weren’t afraid of my guns for now. They would be.
I unlocked my office door and pushed it open. The lights were off but there was no one waiting inside. My succubus power would’ve warned me otherwise. It was safe.
Mansfield touched the back of my shoulder. Fingers on cloth. “Who were they?”
I gave him a withering look, ruined by my sunglasses. “I know you’re used to getting your questions answered because of your position in Gibraltar Global. But take a chill pill and have a seat.”
He scowled and followed me into the office. I walked back past him and shut the door. Locked it for good measure. He seemed surprised. Definitely not security conscious. Amperdyne always had his back. Maybe he was afraid I was locking him in.
Something else occurred to me then. Why had he taken a taxi here? And why hadn’t I seen or sensed any ninjas lurking in the shadows. After what had happened to Thrace, I was becoming a bit more paranoid where the Gibraltar’s were concerned.
“Where’s your security detail?”
“I ditched them.” He looked furtive. “I don’t know who to trust. They know our real identities. If they turn out to be involved—Maureen and I could be next.”
I studied the nervous man. He hardly seemed capable of talking to a judge in court. Much less ditching a highly trained security detail. Maybe they’d let him out of sight because he was bugged in all manner of places.
“What put this bit of paranoia in your bonnet?”
“I called Maureen after the bombing. To make sure she was alright. We talked about things. How nothing was like we’d thought growing up.”
“And you both decided your security details were a two-edged sword. Unless they’re innocent. Which by my last reckoning they were.”
“Their men took Vincent! Isn’t it obvious? Someone’s paying them more money than even we have to destroy us.”
I sat down and detached my beret. Tossing it into the same bowl I usually put my sunglasses. It’s also where my keys wound up half the time. Anything else in my jacket pockets, too.
“The men who disappeared with Vincent are dead. At least, we’ll get confirmation soon, I hope. Charred body-bits apparently take longer for forensics work. I hardly think they did it to their own people.”
“Charred body-bits? What do you mean?”
“I asked you here to get information, not catch you up.” I paused, studying him. Too much white in his eyes again. His hands fidgeting. Playing with the edges of his suit jacket. Sweat forming on his upper lip. I knew a bad case of the jitters when I saw them. “But you’re the client. After a fashion. I can spare time.”
He paced, eyes never leaving me. I motioned to the chair. “Just sit!”
Reluctantly he dropped into the comfortable seat. I’d made sure that they were comfortable when I bought them. No power play to encourage clients to leave quickly. People who came to me had complex stories to tell. They needed a safe haven while they explained their needs. It was part of the service that most private investigators failed to focus on.
“A pile of charred human parts were found. Faces smashed in to delay or prevent dental comparisons. And when I say parts, they weren’t cut into hands and feets and stuff. This was like someone took a butchered chicken and threw it in a woodchipper. Then grilled the pile on high.”
He paled, gripping the armrests. “Vincent?”
I shrugged and shook my head. “We don’t know for sure. But my gut says ‘no.’ I think it’s just the two Amperdyne men who disappeared with him.”
Mansfield was quiet for a few long heartbeats. “That’s why you asked me here?”
“No. Not exactly.” I leaned forward. “We talked about trust at our first meeting. You didn’t seem to trust me. Maybe you still don’t.”
“I do.” He stammered and averted his gaze from my reflective sunglasses.
“Then I think you know more than you’ve told me. Perhaps even more than you’ve told your grandfather?”
He looked up. Afraid. “About what?”
“I’m not talking about porn and prostitutes, Blake. If that’s what you’re afraid of. Or recreational drug use. None of that’s relevant to finding Vincent. It’s your personal business.”
“Then what? I don’t know anything about the kidnapping! I swear! Or I’d have said. I like the little shit.”
“Why’s he a little shit? He’s more like a prisoner. Sheltered. Protected from the world. I haven’t heard anyone say a bad thing about him.”
“That’s because there’s nothing to say. Not really.”
“So you knew he was gay?”
That startled Mansfield. His expression was surprise. No denial. “How’d you find out?”
“How did you?”
He rubbed his hands together as if the friction would help materialize his words. “Vincent hinted. Asked me questions that let me put two and two together. I’m not as clueless as you seem to think.”
“Did he mention anyone specifically?”
“Not really. He was feeling me out about coming out. Without actually coming out. I haven’t been the best cousin. It’s hard not to be jealous sometimes when your pos
ition in the family has been buried beneath ages of paper-trails and misdirection.”
“If your mother had lived, you still wouldn’t be the heir. Or a Gibraltar.”
“I am a Gibraltar! Maybe Maureen and I don’t carry the name. But it’s our blood. He’s our grandfather, too.”
“What would be different then? If she were alive?”
“People would know we were his grandchildren! We’d have their respect. Access to Gibraltar resources like members of the family instead of well-paid executives. She’d have fought to make sure we were treated better.”
I studied his expression. “So you resent Vincent.”
“I did. Growing up. Then he started treating me like his big brother. Turning to me for problems that he couldn’t trust to anyone else. And Maureen. He made us his family even if the old man didn’t.”
“So you were okay with him being gay.”
“He’s a sweet, innocent kid! How could anyone not be okay with him loving anyone?” Mansfield grew agitated. “If our goddamned grandfather would stop living in the eighteenth century and open his eyes! The son of a son doesn’t need to be the heir. A woman shouldn’t be on the bottom of the inheritance pile because she doesn’t carry the name. She still carries the blood.”
“So you and Maureen looked out for Vincent.”
“Yes!”
“Could Vincent have told her about a boy?” I didn’t say man. It would just muddy the waters and I needed answers.
“Sure. I guess. He was more comfortable opening up to her. The only woman in his life. If you don’t count Cook. Cook’s a hardass just like grandfather. But she kept us in line on family holidays.”
“You were together for holidays?”
He laughed. “Not in public. Or anywhere that people existed. Tiny chalets in the middle of dense forests. Cement bunkers alongside secluded lakes. Once a year to look over his progeny. Like counting livestock.”
“So the three of you had a relationship. You said you hardly knew him.”
“I don’t. Not really. We had minutes alone together. Occasional haphazard encounters. The family get-togethers stopped about the time Vincent turned eight or nine. He wasn’t allowed to call me. But we’d talk when I stopped at the house to deliver legal documents. Occasionally Maureen would be allowed to visit on the pretense of doing electrical work. She pushed harder for a relationship with Vincent. He remembered our holidays together. Missed us. Otherwise grandfather would’ve never let us see each other after that.”
“I thought Vincent grew up alone and guarded his whole life. It’s helpful to know that he had a relationship with the two of you. Don’t underestimate the value of family. Especially family you aren’t allowed to know.”
He nodded. “Does this help? Did someone take Vincent because he’s gay?”
“We’ve been assuming that this has to do with your grandfather. What if it doesn’t. What if all the people we’ve been questioning are the wrong people. Vincent might’ve run away to be with a romantic interest.”
“He’d have to. Grandfather would never knowingly let him be near someone he loved if they were a guy.”
“I figured as much. I appreciate your candor. It’s been helpful. Is there anything at all you can think of that Vincent might’ve said. Hinted at about someone he liked. No matter how vague.”
“Well, I suppose he did say something odd. I thought it was about family. But the way he said it. ‘You can love someone your whole life and be invisible to them at the same time.’ I thought he was talking about grandfather. But Vinnie’s not invisible to grandfather. Overprotected. Maybe burdened with the responsibilities of being the heir. But that man spends time focused on Vincent every day of his miserable life. Grandfather’s, not Vincent’s.”
“Sounds like unrequited love.”
“It never occurred to me he might’ve been infatuated with someone. He’s homeschooled. The staff are pretty boring. They’re paid to keep an arm’s length from Vinnie.”
“How did Vincent feel about Anton Thrace? Did they get along?”
“The werewolf? He’s alright I guess. Never talks about anything personal. Takes his job seriously. Feels a huge amount of gratitude for the old man. Grandfather saved his ass or something when he was in the preternatural prison.”
“Detention center. It’s not a prison. Bad people aren’t sent there. People who need to learn to control their urges are.”
“Yeah, I know. Sorry. I remember that’s the one thing Anton said about the place. It was nice having a high security room to keep you from hurting someone during a full moon.”
“But he learned to control it there.”
Mansfield shook his head. “No. That’s the thing. He never could. He takes these shots that keep him from losing it during the nights around the full moon. A strong enough dose can even keep him human.”
“He can control the change with drugs?” I was confused. Thinking about what Chandler had said. Thrace wasn’t an alpha, but he could stay human on the full moon.
Werewolves could control their killing urges when they changed. Maybe not at first. During the first few moons, they were dangerous because it was a confusing transition. Took a while to come back to their humanity. Back to self-control.
“More than that. Even if he transforms, he doesn’t lose it. He doesn’t turn into a wolf up here.” He tapped his temple.
“So without those drugs, he’s dangerous?”
Mansfield consulted his phone. “Shit. Whoever took him may be in real danger. The full moon’s tomorrow.”
“And whoever’s with him.”
“Pardon?” He blinked at me. Confused.
He hadn’t connected Thrace and Vincent despite my questions. He didn’t have as much upstairs as he thought. Sadly, most men didn’t. Even the smart ones overestimated just how much smarter they were than the people around them. It made catching them easier when they turned to crime.
“Nothing. Thank you. Can you arrange for me to talk to Maureen? Now? I’m worried that tomorrow night’s our last chance to save Vincent.”
“Save him from what?”
“Himself.”
Chapter Thirty-Four
Meeting Maureen was problematic. I had to talk Mansfield out of calling his grandfather first. What could he tell the old man? That Maureen might know which man Vincent fancied? That she might know if they had a relationship? It would kill my investigation as surely as finding his cold hard corpse.
If Thrace and Vincent had run off together, the boy might be fine. Surely the werewolf would’ve taken a stash of the drug with him. Keep himself from hurting Vincent. But if Anton had been taken by or because of the boy—that would be very bad.
Maureen didn’t want to meet. Not outside of the anonymity of work. Not surprising after that explosion meant to kill me had failed. So we opted for a ‘random’ encounter in a parking garage that served the boardwalk area of Long Beach.
I found her sitting in the driver’s side of a newer silver Lexus. Nice. But not expensive enough to draw undue attention. A car with tinted windows was parked strategically four stalls away. An Asian man in a trench-coat was leaning on the parking structure’s exterior half-wall. Smoking a cigarette. Pretending to survey the lights from the boardwalk. Not very stealthily.
I rapped gently on the window and she rolled it down. “Should I come in? Or you going to come out?”
“In, if you don’t mind.”
I walked around to the passenger side. The door unlocked as I reached for the handle. I slipped inside and shut the door before speaking again.
“Thank you for agreeing to meet.”
“You said Vincent’s life may depend on it. Or was that an exaggeration?” She glared at me with that Gibraltar imperiousness. Mansfield was right. She didn’t need the family name to carry the blood.
“It might.”
“Fine. Whatever I can do. Though I’m not sure what I could possibly tell you that Blake didn’t already say.”
“The fact that we have to meet in person to avoid electronic surveillance is a pain, but I’m hoping you know something. Not about the kidnapping. About Vincent.”
“Such as?”
“You’re probably the closest person to him in his life?”
She frowned. “I’d think that would be our grandfather. I hardly get to see him.”
“Blake hinted that Vincent might’ve confided in you. On those rare occasions when you find a few minutes to talk?”
“Blake needs to learn discretion. If anyone found out that I even talk to my cousin, it puts everything we’ve given up at risk.”
“I understand that. I’m not planning on sharing this information. I didn’t even tell the FBI I was meeting you.”
She rolled her eyes theatrically. “They leak like a sieve.”
I felt a strange surge of loyalty to defend the agents. They’d been more than fair with my involvement in the case. Bigoted first meetings aside. “Hard to contain big news. Important stories. Someone always has to tell a sister or mother that they have the inside track.”
“I like you, Miss Savage. Or may I call you Bianca?”
“Bianca’s fine. Better actually.”
“Then you must call me ‘Maureen.’ So, what is it I might possibly know to help Vinnie out?”
“I know he’s gay.”
“Ah. The real family secret. Bigger than our secret identities! The heir will never have heirs of his own. And the Gibraltar name dies despite Grandfather’s machinations.”
“You don’t sound like you like your grandfather.”
She turned her face away to hide the bitterness. “He’d never win an award for outstanding parent. Or grandparent. But we’re comfortable. If a life inside a box is comfortable.”
“Must be hard. Harder still on Vincent.”
She jerked back toward me. Defiant. “Vinnie? He has it easy. Just don’t make waves and he’ll get everything. Make waves and he’ll be beaten into submission—figuratively. And he’ll still get everything. He’s no more sheltered than Blake and I’ve had to be. He gets to do things with the money. Trips with grandfather abroad. Nice clothes.”
The Billionaire's Heir (Sucubus For Hire Book 1) Page 26
