BAM BAM BAM. Frowning, he glanced at his alarm clock. A quarter to two in the morning. Seriously? Henry left his bed and grabbed the robe that hung from the back of his bedroom door. He shuffled to the front door of the law office, unlatched the deadbolt, and threw the door open. He narrowed his eyes when he spied a vampire in an ill-fitting leather blazer with slicked-back hair standing on his doorstep.
“What do you want?” Henry grated.
The other vampire sighed impatiently. “It’s about fuckin’ time! I been waiting here. I’m Sal. Had an appointment for one-thirty, ya know!” he complained in a thick Brooklyn accent.
“Why on Earth would you think the appointment was for one-thirty in the morning?” These idiots.
Sal the vampire threw up his pale hands as if this were the most unreasonable question in the world. “‘Cause you’re a vampire, man! Gotta sleep during the day.”
“I don’t! I have mortal clients too. Supernats,” Henry gestured to all of Sal, “are not my only priority.”
Sal narrowed his eyes. “I called your number right after sunset yesterday. Your secretary or whatever told me that one-thirty tomorrow was perfect. So here I am. One-thirty tomorrow. Are you gonna see me or not?”
Henry took a deep breath and leaned against the doorframe. He’d already told Rick to start adding the appropriate “a.m.” or “p.m.” to appointments he made for all supernat clients. Clearly this one had slipped through the cracks. Rick was going to owe him a damn good bloody latte tomorrow morning.
“Is it an emergency?” he asked, unable to take the irritation out of his voice.
Sal extended his hands in the universal “lemme give it to you straight” pose. “Look, I need me a Tom Hagen. I got this DUI a few days ago—”
He waved his hand expectantly. “Is there a reason you didn’t use mind control?”
Sal pointed at the side of his head. “Doesn’t work so great when I’ve had a few, and there were two cops there.”
“Lovely.”
“That’s where you come in. My boss told me you’re the guy who fixes everything.”
“Then you and your boss can come back tomorrow.” Henry had no idea what the calendar looked like, but better to get this nonsense over with earlier rather than later. “Can you be here at nine in the morning?”
Sal expelled a breath. “Breakin’ my balls here, pal.”
“My assistant makes excellent blood coffee. He can probably scare up a bloody cappuccino and the baked good of your choice.” Despite being in a blue bathrobe and half-awake, Henry did his best to be charming.
Sal thought this over and snapped his fingers into a finger gun. “Done, but only because people say you’re the best.”
“Appreciate it. Look forward to seeing you then. Have a good night.”
“Night!” Sal said before throwing a wave behind him and walking over to a shiny El Camino parked on the street.
Henry pushed away from the doorframe, shut the door, and locked it. Part of him was curious about the guy’s legal issue, but now wasn’t the time to deal with that. Not when he was half-asleep and still suffering from a semi. He lumbered back to his bedroom, threw off his bathrobe, and climbed back into bed.
Yesterday a certain chestnut-haired attorney had broadcasted some rather specific thoughts about needing to do “terrible things” to her vibrator because of the effect he had on her. He’d been able to think of little else all night. His cock throbbed, and he tried and failed to ignore it. He’d let Tomorrow Henry worry about how disastrous it was to fantasize about his employee.
Chapter Nine
El Barrio Viejo was a simple, historical neighborhood, so sleek black 1960s-era Dodge Chargers stuck out amidst worn pickup trucks and sensible sedans. There was one parked outside the office, and the glossy paint gleamed in the sun. All the windows were tinted to an illegally dark shade. Emma parked behind it and studied it as she gathered her leather work tote and walked toward the office. Considering the tinted windows, she suspected she should expect a vampire client this morning.
Emma tried to convince herself she was ready to face the day. She’d woken up early for a bike ride on a trail on the western side of town that ran the length of one of the dry riverbeds. She hadn’t gone in a couple of weeks, and it felt good to ride again. She felt more in control of herself with the early morning wind blowing against her face while she took in the trail’s low-hanging trees and scrub brush. It was a good workout because it forced her to clear her head and focus only on each push of the pedals. Certainly helped burn off excess sexual energy better than the walk to Daphne’s house or her useless vibrator. Her body tingled with warmth, and her legs were pleasantly sore, though she knew they’d be worse tomorrow.
She shivered at the blast of air conditioning as she walked through the door. Rick’s desk was empty and his jovial laughter was absent, so she assumed he was on a coffee run. Despite her brain’s warning bells, she approached Henry’s office. The door was open, so it was only polite to say good morning, right? She strode on through—and froze.
Henry was seated with his feet perched on his desk and his cat in his lap while he flipped through the pages of a file. He stroked Ingrid’s fur absently while he scanned the papers. Emma tried not to melt. Oh, she tried. But the man was in a dark blue suit and had a sleeping cat on his lap. Henry noticed her and smiled. A shot of heat radiated through her. Biking was useless. Absolutely useless. What a wasted, worthless heap of metal and rubber.
“Good morning,” she said with all the professionalism she could muster.
“Morning,” he said, his voice gravelly.
Emma returned his smile and tried to remember why she’d come to talk to him. Small talk, right. She could do the small talk.
“Cat seems happy with you.”
Ingrid looked up from Henry’s lap and mewled sleepily. Henry gently set his feet down on the ground and placed Ingrid on his desk blotter. Arching her back and stretching, she threw Emma a smug glance. Emma wondered if she would also look that content after leaving his embrace. And now she was comparing herself to a cat. Dear God, these thoughts had to stop.
“Seems that way. I’m glad you came in. I want to brief you on a potential new client who’s coming in this morning.”
He stood and approached her, brushing white cat hairs from his shirt and slacks. Emma stared at his hands and told herself it would be a very bad idea indeed to offer to help him wipe it all off. This man was not an option for her. Not an option. If she was failing to see him as a boss, she had to at least see him as an ultra-platonic friend—and quickly. Maybe walking and talking would be a solid distraction.
“I need to grab some files from Rick’s desk. Want to walk while you brief me?”
“Sure.” He followed her out of his office.
“What’s the case? And does the client drive a Charger?” she asked, keeping her back to him.
Henry paused. “I saw an El Camino near my place last night, but I suppose anything is possible. This idiot vampire woke me up at one in the morning because he thought all my appointments were nocturnal.”
Emma snickered and pawed through papers and folders. “Wow, he even found out where you lived. That’s some dedication.”
“Uh, yes. Dedicated. Anyway, the guy is named Sal, has a thick Brooklyn accent, and told me he’s looking for a criminal lawyer to work his DUI. His boss says I come highly recommended.” He gave her a droll smile. “I told him to come back this morning at nine so you could deal with it.”
“Gee, thanks. Do you know anything about it besides it being a DUI?”
Henry glanced at the front door and shook his head. “I was out of it. Since you’re my criminal defense lawyer, I figured I’d let you tackle it. I’ve got to get back to this commercial lease, but let me know if you need anything.” He gave her a disappointingly professional nod before walking back to his office and shutting the door.
Emma stared unabashedly at his ass as he did so and tried not to sigh stupidl
y while thinking about the phrase “you’re my criminal defense lawyer.” She finally found the right files on Rick’s desk and headed to her own office to see who she was seeing and when. She looked up at the clock in time to see the hour hand hit nine.
The door swung open, and two figures entered. One slammed the door behind them. Emma furrowed her brow. The person on the left wore black slacks and leather Italian loafers. The person on the right wore dark skinny jeans and fine brown leather Oxfords. Each wore a black trash bag over themselves that covered them from head to knee. Emma’s eyes widened as both bags began to stretch and rip. Arms clawed out and then heads emerged. It was like two trash babies being born. This was officially the weirdest thing she’d seen in this office. Tattered plastic slipped to the floor. A man and a woman glared at her and breathed heavily, a light sheen of sweat covering their skin.
“Um. Hello,” she greeted.
Emma clutched the files to her chest and shifted her leather tote so that it hung more securely over her shoulder. She stepped one determined foot forward and extended her right hand for each of them to shake. Sure enough, the white guy with the Italian loafers looked like he’d stepped off the set of a 1950s mob movie. He had dark, slicked-back hair and wore a burgundy button-down.
“You must be Sal.” She smiled then turned to the woman. “I’m Emma Parker, associate attorney. Who do I have the pleasure of meeting?”
“Salomé. Nice to you meet you,” she said curtly.
Based on the woman’s light accent, Emma guessed her first language was Spanish. She was presumably Sal’s boss, based on what Henry had said. Looks were a useless age barometer with supernats, but she appeared to be younger than Sal, maybe twenty-five. She had brown skin and wore a loose gray V-neck t-shirt and a necklace with a dagger pendant. Tattoos snaked up her right arm.
Jesus, was that a gun tucked into the waistband of Sal’s pants?
Okay, so maybe Daphne had a point. Henry might be a little vanilla for the Underworld. But you know, vanilla was delicious, especially with whipped cream and chocolate sauce, and it was far less intimidating than whatever Rocky Road nonsense their clients had to offer. But neither vanilla nor Rocky Road were on the table for her consumption, so she needed to forget about ice cream altogether.
Salomé kicked at her ripped plastic bag on the floor and frowned at Sal. “I thought we were seeing the vampire lawyer.”
He shrugged. Sighing, she pulled him aside and began speaking to him in quiet Spanish. Sal became visibly irritated and came back with a steady stream of Italian. Emma only caught some of what Salomé said, but she got the gist: “Is this the right place? What are we doing here wasting our time with a mortal?” and “Look at the mess your arrogance got us into.”
Their conversation became more and more heated until Salomé broke off into English and said, “Enough—I can’t with you when you go too fast in Italian!”
Chastened, Sal crossed his arms over his chest.
“No offense, lady,” Salomé continued, “but where’s the vamp lawyer? He didn’t have the decency to meet with Sal at a normal time, so we accommodated.”
Emma held her tongue. The woman’s irritation was understandable. Dragging her ass out of bed at the equivalent of three in the morning to meet with a lawyer would piss her off too. But Emma had a nasty feeling they really wouldn’t be pleased to learn she was their attorney while the vanilla vampire hid behind his paper. She tried to keep her smile cheerful.
“Of course,” Emma said, “but why don’t I show you to the conference room? Henry’s focusing on non-criminal matters now, so the three of us can discuss Sal’s case instead.”
A scowl darkened Sal’s features, and Salomé rolled her eyes. It’s fine, you’ve got this, Emma tried to convince herself. She held the woman’s gaze, trying to seem more confident than she felt. Which turned out to be an incredibly stupid thing to do around a vampire. Any traces of optimism she’d had died when the woman’s irises turned from brown to gold. It’s entirely possible you don’t have this at all.
“I didn’t wake up in the middle of the day to deal with this noise.” Salomé tilted her head to the side, her tone oddly cajoling. “That’s right. Focus on me.”
Emma stared into the woman’s golden eyes, transfixed. This was not good. A strange energy overtook her, like the first wave of a wine buzz, except this was not at all pleasant because she hadn’t caused it. Panic coursed through her.
“Drop everything,” Salomé said, her voice firm yet calm.
Emma’s files and bag tumbled to the floor. “Goddamn it,” she said absently. “I don’t like messes.”
“Now walk.”
Emma watched in horror as she was forced to walk backward with stilted, jerky steps. Salomé and Sal followed behind as she was mentally frog marched out of the reception area and into Henry’s office.
“Hey, Boss, I have to say I’m getting a little tired of how clients react to the fact I’m not you,” Emma commented mildly, her back facing Henry.
The barest tinge of fear laced her voice. Part of her wished the woman had taken over her mind as well as her body so she wouldn’t have to be here for this. A werewolf growling in your face was terrifying, but at least you had the free will to run away.
She heard the squeak of Henry’s chair swiveling, presumably to stare at her and the new clients. “Emma,” he said with the same degree of tranquility, “I have to say I agree.”
“That mean you’re the vamp lawyer?” Salomé prompted.
“I am.” Henry emerged from behind his desk to stand next to Emma. “Sal, you were a nice guy last night. That’s why I rescheduled…yet this is how you treat my associate?”
“You’re the one without any manners, pal, pawning me off on someone else without even telling me to my face.”
“Fair point, but this is a little extreme.”
Henry’s hand came into her field of vision and he covered her eyes, breaking the hold Salomé had on her. A warm arm curled around her shoulder, and she sank against him. She was angry and terrified, but the spicy, foresty smell of him and the feel of his arm calmed her a little. True to his word, he was protecting her.
She heard Salomé laugh. “Poor little darling needs you to save her?”
“I’m five-foot-seven, not a doll,” Emma snapped, pulling Henry’s hand away from her eyes, though she was smart enough now to avoid the woman’s gaze. She hated that she needed saving, but that didn’t mean she was afraid to give this woman a piece of her mind.
Salomé folded her arms over her chest, focused on Henry. “We came here for you because everyone says you’re the one who gets things done.”
His mouth was set in a thin, angry line. “Emma is the criminal defense attorney who handles those matters now. Thank you for placing your trust in me so implicitly, but if you would let her, she can help you way more effectively than I can.” His calm voice belied the anger in his stormy blue eyes.
“I wish you would’ve trusted me for more than half a second,” Emma added. “If we can treat each other with respect, then I’m happy to discuss Sal’s DUI.” She meant it. Criminal charges were scary, and her clients deserved help, even if they were rude. “If we can’t get the charges dropped, then depending on the circumstances, Sal might be able to get away with a diversion program without any jail time.” She was irritated that she felt compelled to prove herself, but she refused to be told she wasn’t good enough.
Sal looked at Salomé for a cue. When both remained silent, Emma sighed, out of patience. “You can either quit being tools, or you can leave, but I’m over whatever weird showdown this is.”
Emma reluctantly left the warmth Henry’s arm provided, ready to retreat to her office. Why had Henry even bothered to hire her?
“Fine,” Salomé finally said, jaw tense.
Before Emma could respond, the front door to the building opened and snapped closed. All four of them tensed. Sprightly steps marched across the floor, headed in the direction of Henry’s
office. Salomé and Sal narrowed their eyes.
Suddenly, Rick popped his sunny face inside the room and proclaimed, “I’ve got blood and donuts! Who wants some?”
***
An hour later, Sal pulled two new black trash bags from one of the pockets in his slacks and handed one to Salomé. They each shook Emma’s, Henry’s, and Rick’s hands before encapsulating themselves in the garbage bags. They tore tiny eyeholes into the bags and headed out into the desert sun. The door fell shut behind them.
Henry looked at Emma and frowned. What a mess. Once the two vampires had agreed to sit and talk with Emma, the office settled back into a working hum. He still wanted to smack them upside the head for mind controlling and threatening Emma, though. It had been a long time since he’d experienced real anger. Annoyance? Irritation? Frustration? Sure, all the time. But when he’d seen Emma stumble unwillingly into his office, he’d worked hard to keep himself from tackling first and asking questions later. He didn’t like that feeling, nor did he want to examine it too closely, but he’d made a couple of decisions.
“Are you okay?” he asked her.
She’d looked so shaken when she’d marched into his office at the vampires’ behest. Her face had since relaxed some, but her frame was still rigid.
“I think so. We need to talk about fighting mind control later, though,” she said.
This was shaping up to be a hell of a month for her. Henry knew she was here to ease his workload, but he had to be more proactive if she was going to handle these cases well.
“Absolutely.” He turned to Rick. “I need to talk to you about rescheduling more of my appointments.”
Their assistant saluted him and took a bite of a leftover donut. “Not a problem, but first, Emma, you have a client waiting for you. I said she could wait in your office. Her name is Grace Pennington.”
Henry opened his mouth to stop her, but Emma just said, “It’s fine.” In a daze, she walked away.
Destiny: A Fantasy Collection Page 32
