Blood Song: Refrain (Blood Song Series Book 2)

by Charli B. Rose

  I smiled up at him as he helped me get out of the car.

  “Would you like me to carry your bags?” He gestured to my laptop and camera bags.

  “Thanks, but I think I’ve got it.” Impulsively, I gave him a hug before I pressed the button to summon the elevator.

  The ride to the lowest level of the building took no time at all. Music flooded the air as soon as the elevator opened.

  Like a siren’s song, it called to me. I floated down the hallway to the piano room. Stepping to the doorway, I took in the god of music come to Earth. Though I was certain he knew I was there, his fingers didn’t falter on the keys.

  Quietly, I dropped my bags by the door then pulled out my camera. Once the camera flared to life, I stood and captured the magic unfolding in front of me. Toven creating music was the epitome of sexiness. Tie hanging loosely around his neck and the top two buttons undone. Shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Hair mussed. Eyes closed. Lost in the melody.

  And the melody without the image of its creator was hauntingly beautiful. I could envision movie scenes flickering in my mind—boy meets girl, first kiss, falling in love, misunderstanding, heartbreak, healing, love conquers all.

  Tears tracked down my cheeks as I filmed him birthing life to a myriad of emotions that I was certain went with being in love.

  ♪ The One by Kodaline

  When the music finally stopped, Toven remained motionless for several long moments until the last hints of notes faded from the air.

  I stopped the recording when he turned to me.

  He got to his feet then strode over to me. “That bad,” he asked as he traced the tracks of my tears.

  “That beautiful. I know you said ballads and love songs were not your area, but that was amazing. You must have channeled some new inspiration or something.” I wrapped my arms around his waist, still overcome by the emotions his song had stirred up in me.

  “Yeah or something,” he said cryptically as he pulled me closer.

  “I’ll edit the video I shot so you can send a clip to Mr. Gibson,” I mumbled into his chest.

  “Sounds good. Come on. I need to turn off everything and get upstairs for a meeting.”

  With his hand on the small of my back, he ushered me back into the hallway while he went into the sound booth to shut down the equipment.

  In no time, Toven was kissing me goodbye at my office door. Mrs. Stephenson grinned at us behind his back from her desk.

  I settled in at my desk and booted up my computer. My plan was to update his social media profiles while he was in his meetings. I logged into his accounts, making sure to interact with his followers. As I tried to upload images to his Facebook page, I realized I hadn’t saved them to my laptop. I’d saved them on Toven’s computer at home.

  I ran my fingers through my hair in aggravation. I wracked my brain, trying to figure out a way to finish my task list from here.

  Maybe . . ..

  It was a long shot, but just maybe it was possible. I got up and strode to Mrs. Stephenson’s desk.

  “Celesta, can I help you with something?” she asked.

  “The files I need are saved on Toven’s computer at home. Is it possible to access the company server to get to the files on his home computer?” I chewed my lip as I waited for her to answer me.

  “Absolutely. Mr. Adams has given you access. You just need to enter your employee ID number.” She gave me a sweet smile.

  “I don’t know my employee ID. I’m not sure if anyone ever gave it to me,” I admitted in a whisper.

  She chuckled. “Don’t worry. I have a list of all the employee ID numbers because so many people forget theirs. You’d think they’d remember them since they need them all the time, but they don’t,” she rambled as she typed on her keyboard.

  I peered over her shoulder at the screen. When the file opened, it contained a list of initials and a string of numbers next to each one. While Mrs. Stephenson jotted my information down on a sticky note, my eyes rapidly scanned the page. The pattern of letters and numbers looked very similar to the folded page in Dad’s notebook.

  “Why have employees log in at all if the server in the building is secure?” I asked.

  “Every employee’s actions within the company are traceable through their employee ID numbers. Certain files are only accessible to limited employees. If anyone should do something untoward, their actions can be tracked,” she explained.

  “That’s probably a good idea, especially in a company as large as this one, with so many different divisions.” I nodded as I spoke, my mind trying to reconcile the file with my dad’s notes.

  “Exactly. Many companies have a similar policy. Matter of fact, I think Toven was advised by another corporation to do this many years ago.”

  That made sense.

  “Here you go, dear,” she said as she handed me the neon-colored square.

  “Thank you so much,” I said and went back to my office, shutting the door behind me.

  Back at my desk, I pondered the list I’d given a cursory glance in Dad’s notebook. The more I thought about it, the more I was convinced that the list contained employee ID numbers from Dad’s work. I needed to look at it again. My heart rate sped up at the possibility of finally finding an answer.

  I made quick work of loading some new images to Toven’s profiles. I was just finishing up when the man himself knocked on my door.

  “Hey there, already done with your meetings?” I asked.

  “Sadly, no. I was just checking in before the next one starts.” He sauntered over to me and leaned against the edge of my desk.

  “Oh. Well, do you mind if I head home? I finished updating your accounts.”

  “Sure. I’ll have Joe take you home. He’s still here. And I’ll see you later.” He tugged me from my chair and lowered his face to mine.

  My heart rate increased with each millimeter he moved closer, making his lips twitch up in a grin.

  Tired of waiting, I gripped his tie and yanked his face down to mine. “Quit teasing me,” I growled playfully.

  “My star, I like teasing you very much. And then pleasing you. Too bad I have to ask for a raincheck on both.” He finally closed the gap and laid his mouth against mine. His tongue licked against my lips, seeking entrance. I obliged immediately.

  All too soon the kiss ended, though I was breathless.

  “Later,” he promised. Using his phone, he alerted Joe that I needed a ride home.

  He escorted me to the elevator and sent me on my way.

  At home, I opened Dad’s notebook. Scanning the list, I started to imagine names to go with the initials. One set of initials stood out among all the others. Seeing the VCS on the list made my heart pound with anticipation.

  The more I stared at the handwritten list, the more I was certain that they were employee initials for Casa Del Sol Naciente and their ID numbers.

  I pulled up the website for Dad’s old company. After scouring the page, I found a company directory and printed it out.

  Jackpot. I found names to go with all but a couple of the sets of initials in Dad’s list. Rapidly typing names into a search engine, I gathered information on each person and their roles within the company. I found the financial officer: Craig Parker, assistant accountant: Benjamin Smith, personnel director: Wyatt Jernigan, a couple of personal assistants: Stephanie Banks and Catherine Jones, lead designer: Olivia Martin, and one Victor Suarez.

  These must all be employees who either had access to company accounts or who had specifically accessed the account where Dad found questionable information.

  Now Victor was more than a name starred on Dad’s suspect list. Now, he was a legitimate suspect in my mind. But I was terrified of him. Maybe I should spend some time with Lucy and feel her out for information about him. Or maybe I should ask Toven, since they seemed to know each other.

  29

  Toven

  “Sorry I’m late. I seem to be saying that a lot lately,” Abigail said as she ru
shed through my office door.

  “No problem,” I said, standing until she settled in the seat across from me.

  Excitement radiated from her features as she bounced on the edge of her seat.

  “Come on. Out with it,” I demanded unable to wait a second longer.

  “We have finally managed to unfold the genome after finding the right combination of enzymes to cut the complex folds. We’re starting work on the sequencing pronto. Now that we’ve dealt with the secondary folding in the DNA, we can purify it and get a sequence on the entire viral genome.”

  “That’s good, right?” I asked slowly.

  “Yes, very good. Once we can get the actual sequencing done, we can compare vampiral’s sequence to other virus sequences. We’ll be able to make connections, maybe use some of the things we know about similar proteins in other viruses to try to figure out how to cure the disease. Maybe even make a vaccine.” She scooted forward, clasping her hands in her lap.

  “That does sound promising. Were there any other new developments?” Please let there be more.

  “No. We turned all our focus on the folding. The mice are still alive. No change in their behavior or status since my last update. I’m sorry.” Regret stole some of her enthusiasm.

  I reached across and rested my hand on hers. “It’s fine. I know you’re doing all you can. Keep me posted.”

  She squeezed my hand and stood. “I will.” Turning on her heel she left my office.

  I allowed myself a moment to linger on my disappointment, then I stuffed it down and turned to my computer. There was a new email from Victor.

  FYI. Things with the new development are ahead of schedule, so I’m going to be there the rest of the week to oversee things.

  Victor

  Damn it. Balling up my fist, I punched my desk. I didn’t want him anywhere near the development. But I was unsure how to command him away from it without arousing his suspicions.

  This day, which had started so promising, was going downhill fast. Against my better judgment, I dialed Marcus.

  “There you are,” he greeted me after a single ring.

  “Here I am. Praying you have answers,” I responded on a sigh.

  “I’m making headway. I’ve traced her to Texas.”

  I pushed my chair back from my desk and sat in silence for a long moment.

  “She’s here?” Jim Whitfield’s daughter had been under my nose all this time. What were the odds?

  “You know Texas is a rather large state, right?” He guffawed over the line.

  “You’re right.” I shook my head at my ridiculousness. “Thanks for keeping at it.”

  “It’s your dime, man.”

  “Any progress on the security breach in my company’s server?” I asked.

  “There was a file loaded into your security program. It appears to have originated within your building, but I haven’t isolated the specific computer terminal that was used. The files are being copied then routed somewhere else. I have no idea where they’re ending up. They’re bouncing a lot of places before they reach their destination.”

  “Can you prevent it from happening?”

  “Already taken care of. No one but you and my team currently have access to your security system. Until we figure out who under your employ can’t be trusted, we trust no one.”

  I knew he was right. But it pained me that someone in my company would continue to betray me. I shouldn’t be surprised. Someone I trusted had stolen from me for years.

  “Thanks. Do what you have to.” I disconnected.

  I shut down everything in my office then headed to my studio to lay down some samples for the action scenes for Jim. Hopefully, I’d play out my frustrations and disappointment so I could go home to Celesta in a better mood.

  Sinking to the bench in front of my piano, I started to pour out everything in me. Anger. Irritation. Questions without answers. Hope. Darkness. Flickers of light. Defeat.

  My emotions vacillated. I was a pendulum, swinging back and forth. I couldn’t go home this conflicted. So, I played some more.

  Finally, when my fingers ached, my heart was filled with light—even under the shadow of the ticking clock.

  30

  Celesta

  “Let’s work from home today,” Toven said as he trailed his fingers up and down my spine.

  My head rolled toward him. I stretched my limbs, luxuriating in the sun shining down on me. He seemed happier this morning than he was when he got home yesterday. I examined him carefully, looking to see if the quiet contemplation remained. He was consumed by thoughts he wouldn’t share last night, wanting only to hold me. Whatever was going on, he must have worked through it.

  “That sounds amazing. I can work in my PJs.” I grinned at him, not lifting my head from the fluffy softness of the pillow.

  He eased off the bed and moved to his dresser. Much to my dismay, he pulled on a pair of plaid sleep pants, covering his muscular thighs. Reaching into another drawer, he removed a dark green T-shirt. I pouted at the prospect of his chiseled torso disappearing from sight.

  He chuckled at me and dropped the shirt back in the drawer. I still wasn’t convinced he didn’t wield mind-reading abilities.

  “How about breakfast?” he asked, sitting next to me. The smile on his face was genuine.

  “Bacon?” I asked eagerly.

  “Absolutely. Come down when you’re ready.” He got to his feet, pressed a kiss to my forehead then swatted me on the behind before he sauntered toward the door.

  With my heart floating, I went to my room to brush my hair and teeth. With a couple of bobby pins, I secured my hair on top of my head in a messy bun.

  The smell of bacon convinced me to deem myself ready to face the day.

  When I entered the kitchen, Toven was alone, standing over the stove. I sashayed over to him and wrapped my arms around his bare torso. Muscles flexed and rippled beneath my palm as he flipped the bacon sizzling in the pan.

  I planted my lips between his shoulder blades, reveling in the shudder that rolled through him and the tiny growl that slipped out.

  “I think I like PJ work days from home,” he said. With super speed, he spun in my arms then waltzed me to my seat at the kitchen table. “Don’t want the bacon grease to pop on you.”

  His nose dragged along the column of my neck just enough to cause goosebumps to rise along my flesh. Before I could anchor him to me, he was back by the frying pan, lifting crispy bacon from the hot surface and placing it on a paper towel-lined plate.

  “How do you want your eggs?” he asked, opening the carton.

  “Hmm.” I tapped my finger on my chin. “Sunny side up.”

  With one hand, he cracked a couple of eggs and deposited them in the hot pan.

  My stomach growled as the aroma of breakfast grew heavier in the air.

  A chuckle boomed from Toven. In a flash, he had our food plated and on the table. I didn’t even wait for him to sit before I dug in.

  “You’re doing wonders for my confidence in my cooking abilities,” he said as he brought a forkful of egg to his mouth. “So, what’s on your agenda today?”

  “I’m going to work on the video of the ballad you worked on yesterday. We need a clip to send to Mr. Gibson. And I need to go through some of your other videos so I can load something new to your YouTube page.” I chewed a piece of bacon. “What’s your plan for today?”

  “Emails, going through some of the development plans, putting together a new bid for a project, then maybe work on creating an action sequence piece to show Jim Gibson.”

  I clapped my hands in excitement, imagining him creating something for a big superhero fight scene.

  Once breakfast was over and the kitchen had been cleaned up, Toven ushered me into his office. We each settled at our desks and set about our respective tasks for the day.

  As I checked his profiles, I kept glancing at him out of the corner of my eye. I responded to comments and messages while noticing him peeking at
me.

  I plugged my camera up to the computer to retrieve the video from yesterday. Turning to him fully, I caught him staring at me. He gave me a panty-melting smirk, flashing me that dimple that always did me in. I slipped on my headphones and loaded up the video.

  As the Toven on the computer screen began to play, I lost myself in the emotions of the melody just like I did the previous day. A single tear fell out of my eye and rolled down my cheek. I swiped it away when the song ended. When I glanced over at Toven’s desk, he was typing away on the keyboard, but he was looking straight at me.

  I lifted one speaker from my ear. “You have certainly gotten in touch with your inner muse. The chains that bound you, which kept you from creating things inherently beautiful, have been released. I am so proud of you.”

  I replaced the speaker and went back to work, editing and fine-tuning some video clips. Though I was focused on what I was doing, I still managed to be tuned into Toven’s every move.

  Toven threw down his pen and peered closely at his computer screen. Anger radiated off him.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked, pausing the video I was working on.

  Without answering me, he slammed his laptop closed. He stood as I spun my chair to face him. With angry strides, he stalked out of the office. Moments later, the sounds of fury flowed from the music room. Livid notes floated down the hallway to me.

  What had upset him so much?

  I knew I shouldn’t invade his privacy, but I was worried about him. With quiet steps, I moved behind his desk. Tilting my head, I listened some more to make sure he wasn’t going to barge in and catch me. Trembling fingers lifted the lid.

  His email program flared to life. A gasp slipped from my lips as the image filled the screen.

  It was an image of me. The picture was taken at Club Night. It showed me dancing, but it had been photoshopped. The glow had been removed from my skin, making me seem lifeless. My irises had been colored red, and blood had been painted on my lips. The caption on the bottom read: She’ll be even more beautiful when she’s one of us.