“I don’t know what the heck you think you’re doing, but you’d better stop it now and fess up,” she said, her voice as cold as ice.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Bullshit. You’re trying to shove me away. If you want to do that, fine. But I just got you out of jail, and I deserve an explanation, for that at the very least. If you can’t stand my face, or if you’ve decided that you’re better off on your own, or whatever, I’ll respect your opinion. But do me the courtesy of respecting me too, will you? Because I’m about two inches away from slapping you right across the face.”
Her eyes flashed with anger, and for a moment, he considered it. It would be so much easier to fight with her than to tell her the truth. But of course she was right. What he had to say would kill any positive feelings she had toward him, but it would be better that way. She’d be safe, and she’d know that it was all his fault instead of worrying that she’d done something wrong.
All of the fight went out of him in a whoosh. His knees felt weak.
“You’re right. Can we sit in the car? I don’t feel so hot,” he said.
Now worry and anger vied for space in her eyes, but she nodded and gestured to the car.
“The door’s open,” she said.
He got in, and after a moment, she slid into the driver’s seat. She didn’t even look at him.
“Should I leave the lot before they decide to arrest you again?” she asked.
“Nah. My car’s here, and this will only take a minute.”
“Fine.”
She stared fixedly out the front windshield as she waited for him to speak his peace. But he had no idea what to say. He didn’t quite know the truth of things himself…except that he did. As soon as he’d heard the name, there was a pang of recognition.
“My fingerprints match the prints of a man named Ray Vane. The cops told me he was a serial killer. Offed a bunch of people in a bar and then turned the gun on himself. I still don’t remember anything, but I’m pretty sure I was Ray Vane. I don’t know if the voice brought me back, or if I came back to atone for what I did, or…I don’t know. But what I do know is that I’m not a good guy. I never was. Taking people like Maurice Levante off the streets before they can hurt others is a good thing, but it’ll never make up for the fact that I killed all of those people.”
Lara was silent in the wake of his proclamation. Then, after a couple of frozen moments, she got out her cell phone and began typing on it. That was it, then. She was giving him the space to leave without drama, and while he appreciated it and knew it was the right thing to do, it still hurt. He reached for the door handle, trying desperately to come up with some reason that he shouldn’t. He just felt so conflicted and confused, and Lara was the only person he could talk honestly about that kind of thing with. Funny how he’d only known her for a little while, and he was already so reliant on her.
He opened the door and tried to come up with something to say. But there was nothing, and the lump in his throat would have made speech impossible anyway.
“Wait,” she said, holding up a finger. “I’m reading about Ray Vane.”
“Wha…what?” He shut the door, looking at her intently. “What does it say?”
“Ray Vane shot six people in a bar. You’re right about that. But what they didn’t tell you is that the bar was closed. Ray’s girlfriend was the bartender, and he came back after hours to give her a ride home only to find that a gang of bikers was robbing the place. They beat her up pretty bad and were trashing the bar when he came back. He shot those people to protect his girlfriend and defend himself. But the girl died, and he shot himself before the cops came.”
Vincent stared at his knees, numb with grief and emotion for a girl he couldn’t remember.
“Ray Vane was a good guy,” Lara continued. “He was the heir to a printing business. College educated. He had a little brother he doted on. He’d bought an engagement ring for the girl a week before they both died. So if you’re him, and you came back, you don’t need to feel guilty for what you did. It’s just like what you do now. You rid the world of monsters, just like I do.”
He couldn’t help it. His eyes began to leak, and once they started, he couldn’t stop. He balled his fists up and shoved them into his face, but that didn’t help. After a moment, Lara’s arms went around him, and she held him as he cried in loss for a life he still couldn’t remember.
“I think some of your people might still be alive…” she said cautiously. “You look just like him. Do you want to see a picture?”
“Not yet.” He shook his head. “No, not ever. I’m not him. I don’t remember him. But I’m glad to know who I am.”
“You’re Ray Vane,” she said, her voice awed. “I can’t believe it.”
“No, I’m Vincent Malone. And I hunt monsters, just like you said. We’re going to find Ignazio, and we’re going to find Jin’s son, and then I think we should go out for dinner.”
He couldn’t believe he’d said that last part. She looked shocked too.
“I mean, if you want…” he added weakly.
“Of course I do. But you’re right. We’ve got work to do.” He nodded and reached for the door handle again. His car might be crappy, but he didn’t want to leave it at the police station. “And I really like ramen. You know, for dinner.”
“I know just the place,” he said.
“Cool.” Now that the whole emotional fireworks were over, she seemed to relax. “So where are we going? Am I just following you or what?”
“Let me text you the address. I want to swing by Lo Wang’s workplace. That’s Jin’s son. He should be the easier one to find.”
She nodded. “Okay. I’ve got no more leads on Ignazio, I’m afraid.”
“That’s fine,” he said grimly. “The voice is going to lead us to him, whether it likes it or not. I’m done playing around.”
“Can you do that?” she asked cautiously. “Make it obey your commands?”
“We’re going to find out.”
Chapter 15
Lara followed Vincent through the hectic Vegas traffic. She was used to driving in all kinds of stressful situations, but somehow this one had gotten to her on a completely different level. She found herself gritting her teeth as a truck trailing a bright, flashing sign featuring a bunch of shirtless men in cowboy hats tried to wedge its way between her and Vincent. She closed the gap, but still the pickup driver persisted, edging into her lane until she could reach out and hit his passenger side mirror with her hand.
She did it, too. He gave her a shocked look and started shouting incoherently, and she found herself angrily yelling back. It wasn’t like her at all. Under normal circumstances, she would have coolly informed him that she was following the person in front of her, that she didn’t intend to let anyone between them who could interfere with that process, and that if he didn’t like it, he could go stick his head in the sand. But somehow, she’d lost her cool, and she had to admit that it had to do with Vincent.
Although she’d taken the news about his identity easily, something was bothering her. She didn’t know what. She didn’t mind the fact that he’d killed. She’d had to do it a few times herself. And based on what she’d read on the web, it wasn’t like he’d lured innocent people into his house and disposed of them as he pleased. He’d been protecting someone, and he’d still felt so guilty about the deaths that he’d taken his own life…and come back to continue protecting people who couldn’t protect themselves.
That wasn’t the kind of thing that she could judge him for. In fact, it seemed pretty heroic to her. So what was bothering her?
She didn’t know. She didn’t like it. It was selfish, but part of her wanted things to go back to the way they had been, where she was the only person he had to rely on. Because it had felt good, to be needed like that. But now, he had this entire past, and a girl he’d been willing to kill for, and she was still a loner. He’d made her think that maybe she didn’t have
to be a loner any more, and maybe they could start up some kind of partnership. Romantic or otherwise. But it looked like that wasn’t going to happen, and it sucked.
There was nothing to be done about it now, though. Yelling at the other drivers didn’t help, and Vincent was shooting alarmed looks at her in his rear view mirror. She forced herself to shut her mouth and turned up the music, but she didn’t feel like singing along this time.
When Vincent pulled into the parking lot of Hard Stallions, a seedy looking bar with signs outside that promised “well hung studs” and misspelled “cheep beers,” the shock of it took her mind off the lingering feeling of discontent. Vincent looked similarly confused as he got out of his car. She parked hers and followed him.
“I thought you said he was too important to come work for Jin. This place is a dump,” she said.
“No kidding,” said Vincent. “Either he was too embarrassed to tell her the truth, or…”
Lara finished the sentence for him when he was unable to. Or maybe just unwilling.
“Or he’s an egotistical ass,” she said.
“Yeah, that.”
They moved to the door as one. Vincent dug his wallet out of his back pocket, expecting to be carded at the door, but the stool where the bouncer usually sat was empty. The reason quickly became obvious; a pair of drunken, haggard looking women were clawing at each other near the empty stage while the music bumped and throbbed. The bouncer was attempting to peel them off each other but to no avail.
Lara’s eyes scanned the room in a reflexive movement that was as natural to her as tying her shoes. She did it without even thinking of it, and this time, it paid off.
She elbowed Vincent and leaned in close to speak quietly.
“The man in the black tank at the back is carrying,” she murmured.
Vincent might not have been quite as experienced at surveillance as she was, but he knew how to look without making it too obvious. He asked her where she wanted to sit in a normal tone of voice and scanned the room as if trying to pick out the perfect table. His eyes skimmed over the man in question naturally.
He slid his arm around her and murmured in her ear as if they were lovers enjoying a spicy trip to an adult show. “Looks like he’s guarding that door.”
She nodded and leaned into him. His body felt hard and lean, and she took a moment to enjoy it before she responded.
“Let’s sit near him. I’ve got an idea on how to get backstage and look for Lo.”
But this place seemed bigger than Lo. Now that she was inside, she noticed a few things. Like the tense watchfulness of the bartender and the guard. The desultory drink menu and lack of a dancer. Places like this could rake in tons of cash, but this place seemed to be barely scraping by, if the tiny audience was any indication. It looked like a down on its luck business, and those were a dime a dozen. But what if the shabbiness was intentional? Because if Lara wasn’t mistaken, this room took up less than half of the building. The dressing rooms couldn’t be that extensive, and there wasn’t a kitchen. So what exactly sat behind that door?
She was determined to find out.
Vincent sat down across from her, shooting a questioning look across the table. She leaned forward to speak to him quietly.
“Just play along. I was to get backstage,” she said. He still looked puzzled, so she clarified. “Lo might be back here.”
Among other things. But that was explanation enough for Vincent, and maybe she was wrong about the backstage. After all, she was only going on instinct here. But her instincts were frequently correct.
She leaned back and stretched, summoning an arrow. It materialized at her bidding, a tingling fire between her fingers. The guard looked at her with desultory caution, and so she stuck her chest out, making it look like the exaggerated stretch was just an attempt to get his attention. His eyes locked in on her. He was a seedy looking fellow with tattoos on every visible inch of his body except for his face. Most of them were skulls, knives, or some combination thereof.
From the look on his face, he didn’t usually get much female attention, but then again, there weren’t many females in here. Which was odd for a male review. She was determined to capitalize on it, though.
She shot. Her arrow flew true, hitting the guard at center mass. Vincent watched this production with a knowing expression; although he couldn’t see the arrow, he knew what she’d done. That was good because now he’d be more willing to play along.
The guard’s expression changed in slow stages. She’d seen this kind of thing before with hard men who’d lived hard lives. It took a few moments for the tension to run out of them and the bliss to take over. His face creaked into a smile, and he took a step towards her before frowning and remaining at his post. Whatever he was guarding, it must be important.
She smiled at him and made a show of sidling over. He watched her approach with delight. But not as much lust as she might have expected. Some men immediately wanted to hop into bed with her the moment she shot them, because sex and love were so intertwined in their minds. But not this one, and that took her by surprise.
“You have such pretty hair,” he said, reaching out to touch it but stopping himself just in time.
“You can touch it if you want to,” she offered with a coy smile.
His hand brushed her head, feather light, and then he withdrew it with an awed expression. “It’s so soft. You’re the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen, and that’s no lie.”
“That’s so kind of you to say,” she replied. “I was wondering…see, you caught my attention the minute we walked in. I really love men with ink.”
He stiffened with pride. “I’m completely covered. I mean completely.” He said that last word with an emphasis that left no doubt as to its meaning. For a moment, Lara wondered what kind of lunatic would get his penis tattooed and what kind of tattoo he’d gotten, but she quickly decided she didn’t want to know.
“Well, I’m wondering if you’d join my boyfriend and me. He promised me a three-way for my birthday,” she said playfully.
His face wavered as he considered it.
“I don’t know. I don’t like the idea of sharing.”
She pivoted quickly. “Well, maybe he could just watch us, then. That would be fun. Maybe we could make a video…” She let the sentence dangle with possibility.
He brightened. “I get off work in two hours. You can come to my place.”
“But we have to leave for the airport in two hours. Can’t we just go somewhere? Like, in there? Backstage?”
She pointed at the door and waited while he struggled with his conscience. Clearly, he wasn’t supposed to let anyone in there, but he wanted to very badly. He teetered on the edge of making a decision, so she pushed him over by running a long nail down his chest. He shivered.
“Come on. Bring your boyfriend,” he said roughly.
She gestured to Vincent as the guard unlocked the door and ushered them quickly through. From the look on his face and the darting glances he shot around the bar, he was worried someone was going to see them. But no one called out, and so he stepped inside with them and locked the door. They stood in a hallway lit only by a red exit sign at the opposite end. All of the doors were closed, and so no one noticed when Vincent stepped swiftly toward the guard and immobilized him with a precisely placed nerve strike to the neck. The guard fell in a swift, silent heap.
Lara blinked. “Why did you do that? We might still need him.”
“Well, I didn’t like how he was looking at you. We don’t need him,” said Vincent roughly.
Warmth rushed over Lara, washing away the lingering anger she’d felt earlier.
“You’re jealous,” she murmured.
“Am not.”
“Yes, you are.”
Without taking the time to think through the decision, she closed the distance between them, pulling him down by his collar. Her lips met his, and with a groan, he wrapped her in his arms. He kissed her with an abandon she’d neve
r experienced, not even after shooting someone with one of her arrows. This felt real and deep in a way she’d never felt before.
His hand brushed her breast and then pulled away like he’d been burned.
“We need to stop,” he said against her mouth. “This isn’t the time.”
“But soon,” she said. “Yes?”
He nodded and reluctantly released her. She could see his arousal in the uncomfortable way he rearranged his jeans, but she didn’t comment.
“We should check out these dressing rooms,” he said.
But she held up a finger. “I don’t think these are all dressing rooms,” she said. “We need to be careful.”
She could hear murmurs of discussion behind the single door on the left, and she gestured for Vincent to follow as she pushed the door open and walked inside. She wasn’t sure what she expected. The piles of guns on the tables didn’t take her much by surprise, because she’d suspected that the club was really a front for some kind of illegal activity. The tall Chinese man with the delicate bone structure didn’t exactly surprise her. She figured this was probably Lo, Jin’s son. He wore a sulky expression that was in line with what she’d heard about him so far.
But the presence of Ignazio Balma? That was a shock to her. And to him. He took one look at her and blanched. He didn’t know who she was, but he knew she was looking for him, and he tried to run.
Unfortunately for him, the only way to get out was through them, and she made no pretense this time. She drew and shot him. His steps faltered at the magic took hold, and he stumbled into her, his panicked flight turning abruptly into a search for sanctuary.
“Help me,” he said in an accented voice that would have probably tugged at her if not for her feelings for Vincent. She’d always been a sucker for a good accent, but somehow this one paled next to Vincent’s sensitive intensity. “Help me, please. She’s going to kill me.”
The Supernaturals of Las Vegas Books 1-4 Page 59
