After a quick stop in the restroom to pull my head together I went back out and scanned the people in the room. Joaquín was gone. I didn’t see Aaron or Lily either so I assumed they’d left together.
I pushed both Joaquín and Ian out of my head and the rest of the night was filled with laughter and excitement. And more than a few drinks.
I agreed to spend the night in town. Wilson and Alli ushered me to their car amid the calls of congratulations and goodbyes from those who stayed behind to party, and drove to their house. I crawled into my old bed, a little drunk and a lot tired. I thought of the little adobe house I’d once called home. With any luck the last renters had left the light-blocking curtains in place. I was switching to the nightshift soon. No matter, I’d buy new ones and a new sofa, maybe leather. As I mentally decorated my old house, and hopefully, soon to be, new house, I drifted off to sleep. I slept soundly until the bed dipped beside me under the weight of someone … something.
Startled, I reached for my gun and was relieved I had kept it neatly tucked under my pillow. Before my hand could grip the comforting hard steel of my Glock someone clasped my wrist. I sucked in a breath to scream.
“Shh, My Love. It is only I.” Ian’s voice was a whisper.
“How did you…?”
“I was once welcome here,” he said wistfully, reminding me he had been invited into Alli and Wilson’s home before.
“Let go of me, Ian.”
“If I do,” he asked cautiously, “will you shoot me?”
“I should,” I snapped back.
Ian leaned closer, his breath tantalizing against my ear, “Perhaps. But will you?” I heard a faint tint of amusement in his voice and couldn’t help but smile. The man knew me well. He was close enough now to fill my senses with the scent of him, the warmth of him. With any other vampire I could have accused him of feeding recently. At one time, that could have meant an attack on an innocent human. Now, since the VRA, there were many humans more than willing to open a vein as a meal for a vamp. Most of the humans still believed it was all a myth but those that knew sought out the vampires and shapeshifters like groupies. Vampires could make their bite feel wonderful, erotic even, with the use of mind control. I had experienced it myself through Ian and, try as I might, I couldn’t blame those who wanted the experience for themselves. Although with Ian and I it had been more of a mind connection than mind control. It was part of the reason we were now bound to each other. At least that’s what I thought at the time. Now I didn’t know if my feelings for Ian were vampire compulsion or my own true feelings.
“You hesitate, My Love.” He was so close to my mouth now I had only to move a fraction to meet his lips.
I fought the urge to do just that. “I’m not going to shoot you, Ian,” I said tiredly. “And it’s Leah, or Agent Wolfe. I thought we discussed this.”
He waved one hand casually. “You discussed it.”
“What do you want?” I was too tired to argue about my name.
“I only wish to speak with you.” He released my arm.
I sat up in the bed, grateful I’d slept in an old T-shirt and not nude. “So talk,” I ordered.
Ian chuckled a little and shook his head. “I have missed you, My Love. Is your probation over?” I reached for my badge that sat on the nightstand beside me. I knew he’d already seen it. He’d slipped into the room silently and I had no doubt he’d taken the time to go through it before waking me. I arched an eyebrow in challenge and held it up for him to see. “It went very well indeed, Ian. Care to test my new knowledge?”
Amusement twinkled in his eyes. “No, My Love, I have not come to challenge you.”
“What did you come here for?” I asked both tired and annoyed.
“I had hoped that when you finally learned to accept what you are … who you are, that you would be better able to understand why I needed to end Elizabeth, and forgive me.”
“I never questioned her need to die…”
“No, but you feel I betrayed you,” he interrupted. “You still think my feelings for you were deceitful. And for that reason alone I do not earn your forgiveness.”
I started to speak but he placed his finger on my lips to silence me. “My feelings for you are true. I want you to know that no matter how this all began, my feelings are real. I’ve been patient, My Love. I’ve given you time to accept who you are. I know you have not lost your interest in romance.” His eyes narrowed and darkened. “You made that abundantly clear with Joaquín.”
“I didn’t know you would be there, Ian. I have a right to live my life.” I scowled at him. “I don’t have to justify myself to you or anyone else.”
“I’m not asking for justification. I’m asking for an equal chance.”
“You had your chance, Ian. You took what I offered and used it, used me.” My voice rose.
“In the beginning…” he started.
“And later…?” I shot back, stopping his words as the heat of anger colored my face.
He didn’t answer.
“Your vengeance against Elizabeth was more important than being honest with me. You didn’t trust me. Go to hell, Ian.”
“Eventually.” His own temper flared. “You are mine, Leah, as I am yours. Never forget that I am vampire and I will have what is mine.” He captured my lips in a fierce kiss and my anger vanished. “I can taste the desire on your lips. Hurt and anger also flavor them, but the desire is still there.” He spoke softly and then kissed me again, a gentle brush of lips that had my pulse jumping. “Your desire is for me, not Joaquín.”
My stomach fluttered in anticipation against my will. I squashed it back and turned my back to him. “Get out of my head, Ian,” I warned weakly.
“I am sorry, My Love. I sometimes forget to be…” he blew out a breath, “human with you. It is my vampire nature that is very territorial. Forgive me.”
“I will not succumb to your will, Ian. Not again.”
“I did not force you to love me. You must believe me in this!” he said with a touch of desperation.
“Get out, Ian. Just, leave.”
“As you wish, My Love. For now.”
I turned back around to face him.
He was already gone.
Chapter Ten
My phone rang Friday evening as I was getting ready for my date with Joaquín. I’d already pulled on a pair of jeans, tank top and a light button-down shirt to help conceal the gun at the small of my back. I checked the caller I.D.
“Hey, Wilson, what’s up?”
“I need you to come down to the warehouse district.” His voice was all cop.
“What happened?” I cradled the phone to my ear as I pulled on a boot.
“I was hoping you could find that out from the corpse. I’ve got one dead body, male, in an abandoned building.”
“Supernatural?” I switched the phone to my other ear to pull on the second boot.
“Gunshot wound. Double tap to the head. It looks execution style. Can you come down?”
“Give me the address.” I checked the time. “I’ll be there in about fifteen minutes.” I hung up with Wilson and called Joaquín. He wasn’t thrilled about me calling off dinner, and that was the problem. My job as a SINS agent wasn’t exactly a nine-to-five deal and it took one hell of a toll on my personal life. What little personal life I actually had. If he wanted to be with me, Joaquin had better get used to it.
* * * *
The warehouse district was a series of old brick buildings on the fringes of downtown. Developers had been steadily converting them to loft condos and business parks. The crime scene’s address was off the trendy strip in a still-dilapidated area. What little windows were left were just broken glass haphazardly covered by wood planks. As I climbed out of my car I could see slivers of the brightly painted, refurbished buildings in between the dingy brick of the warehouses still left untouched. I flashed my badge to a nearby uniform and lifted the police tape. I found Wilson talking to the crime scene photographe
r. The team had already dusted for prints and only the body remained untouched. The man lay face down in a puddle of his own blood and what was left of his head was scattered about like paint splatters mixed with bits of goo that were once his brains. His hands had been tied behind his back, and it looked like he’d been forced to his knees before being shot in the back of the head.
“You want the rundown?” Wilson asked.
I rolled my eyes and walked closer to the victim. Wilson knew I preferred to make my own assessment of a crime scene before getting any actual facts from him. It wasn’t a see-how-smart-I-am ego trip; I liked recording my own observations without any outside influence. I leaned closer, flicking on the voice recorder I kept as part of my equipment. The voices of the dead don’t record—apparently it was only my privilege to hear them—but I always repeated what was said and what I saw so I could use it in my report later. It saved a lot of trouble when some dumb-ass defense attorney tried to have my testimony thrown out of court. No one could accuse me of fabricating information.
“Male, brown hair, no discernable eye color or facial features remaining,” I spoke into the recorder. “My best guess puts him at early fifties, perhaps five foot ten and one hundred eighty pounds. The victim is wearing a navy blue pinstriped suit, black loafer dress shoes. His hands are tied behind his back with duct tape. It appears he has been shot twice in the back of the head at point blank range. Autopsy to confirm.”
I scanned the room. “Have you had the dogs in here yet, Wilson?”
There were boxes of various sizes and shapes filled with foam peanuts and coffee beans. Coffee beans are used to hide scents from drug-sniffing dogs. Most commonly, drugs, but they could also hide the scent of blood.
“They didn’t find a damn thing. Not surprising given the coffee beans.” Wilson had to raise his voice because he stood on the opposite side of the warehouse. He usually gave me a wide berth until I’d finished.
I pursed my lips in thought and searched the corners, looking for the soul.
I found him, or rather his soul, sitting atop some boxes, running his hands through the foam and coffee beans. I didn’t know if he could see them fluttering through his fingers or not. I sure didn’t.
“My name is Agent Wolfe,” I offered.
“I never even had a p-parking ticket.” His face was filled with disbelief. I don’t know why he had a face as a soul when his body was missing most of his head, but I guess that’s how it works.
“What’s your name, sir?”
“Larry. Larry G-Guarden,” he stuttered.
“Have you ever been involved with drug trafficking, Larry?”
His eyes widened in shock. “No.”
“Any type of trafficking?”
“Of course not!” he added indignantly.
The dead could lie just as convincingly as the living but I didn’t think Larry was lying.
“Do you know what happened to you, Larry?” I asked softly.
He nodded toward his body. “That’s me isn’t it?”
I always hated having to tell them they were dead. I’d never had a soul attack me and I was pretty sure they couldn’t anyway, but that didn’t erase the reaction in their eyes. I couldn’t imagine the despair of having to look down at your own dead body. “Yes, sir, I believe it is.”
“My God! Please, please don’t let my wife see me like that.” He sobbed. “She’s going to have a hard enough time with this.” He put his head down and it bobbed as he cried.
“Mr. Guarden? Do you know who did this to you?” He was fading fast. I didn’t want to lose him before I had some idea of who killed him.
He leveled his tear-filled eyes with mine. “Tell her to move to Florida with her sister. She shouldn’t be alone.” He reached for me but his hands went right through me like smoke. This really freaked him out and he kept grasping at me, desperate to hold on to something. “Promise me you’ll tell her!” he shouted.
“Mr. Guarden! Larry! Tell me who did this to you!” I demanded. I was truly touched that he needed to take care of his wife, even in death, but I really needed some solid information from him.
“Promise me you won’t let her see me. Tell her to go to Florida!”
“I promise, Larry.” I took a deep breath. Larry was barely visible now. “Do you know who did this?”
“There were lights…” Larry trailed off.
“What kind of lights?” I saw Larry encircle one wrist with his hand and then he was gone.
“Damn!” I shouted at the empty space Larry Guarden’s soul once occupied.
“Did you get anything out of him?” Wilson stepped up behind me.
“He was too worried about his wife to give me much information. He said there were lights.” I ran a variety of lights through my brain searching for logical possibilities. “He circled his wrist with his hand,” I said thoughtfully as I walked back to the body. “Why the reference to his wrists?” I wondered aloud. “May I?” I stooped by the body.
“Go ahead.” Wilson swept his hand wide toward the victim.
I pulled a pair of gloves out of my pocket and put them on. Carefully, I unraveled the duct tape around his wrists. “Gotta flashlight?” I asked Wilson.
He aimed the light on the wrists. I ran my finger along a reddened ridge.
“Handcuffs?” Wilson asked.
I nodded. “Looks like it.”
“I’ll have the coroner check for metal residue but it looks enough like cuffs to me. I wonder why someone would cuff him, then remove the cuffs and duct tape his hands.” Wilson scrubbed a hand along his chin.
“It looks like Mr. Guarden was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. Maybe he stumbled in on a drug deal. Do you have an I.D. on him?” I stood.
“Lawrence Guarden…” Wilson pulled a notebook out of his pocket. “He worked for the city as an accountant. Straight-as-an-arrow kind of guy, not even a…”
“Parking ticket.”
Wilson raised his eyebrows in question.
“He told me. He also asked me not to let his wife see him like this and to tell her that she should move to Florida with her sister.”
Wilson’s eyes widened. “And?”
“This so-called gift really sucks sometimes.”
Chapter Eleven
I dry swallowed four Motrin as soon as I dropped my gear on my kitchen table. Telling a woman her husband had been murdered moved up to number one on the “shit I never want to do again” list. Compound that with trying to devise a way to keep my word and convince Larry’s wife to head to Florida with her sister. As it turned out, her sister was visiting and brought the subject up for me. I only had to suggest that it might be a good idea and my honor was intact. Still, it was heart wrenching to watch the poor woman’s face crumble as I told her her husband wasn’t coming home for dinner, not tonight, not ever. I could only pray that Wilson would catch the son of a bitch that killed him and Mrs. Guarden would find comfort in that.
A nice long shower later, I curled up on the sofa to watch a sitcom rerun on late night TV. I had to turn up the volume to drown out the sounds coming from the adjoining apartments. I really needed to find a house soon. I just wasn’t cut out for apartment life.
Still shots and fragments of the conversation I’d had with Mrs. Guarden raced around my brain. My cell phone rang and I cursed as I picked it up.
“I knew you would still be awake,” Joaquín said. “Care for some company?”
“I’ve had a hell of night, Joaquín. I don’t think I’d be good company right now.”
“I know. I saw the news reports. You look good on camera.” I could feel the smile in his words.
“On camera?” I stammered.
“Don’t you watch the news?”
I’d seen the news crews when we left the scene but hadn’t really paid attention to them. I shouldn’t really bitch about them though. They could be a useful source of information sometimes. Mostly, though, the media is just a pain in the ass. People don’t like to talk
to cops, but put a good-looking reporter in front of them with a camera and all of a sudden they have tons of information. As a cop, you just have to sort through the bullshit.
“God no! Life is depressing enough without seeing that crap,” I finally answered.
“Come on, Leah. Give me twenty minutes. If you still don’t feel like having company, I’ll leave.” He paused, waiting for a reply. “Deal?”
“Deal,” I agreed hesitantly.
“Great. Open the front door.”
I walked to the door, still clutching the phone in my hand, and raised up on my toes to peer out of the peephole. Joaquín stood there holding a vase full of flowers and a bottle of wine. I smiled. It had been a bitch of a night and in spite of my exhaustion, I was glad not to be alone for a while.
Joaquín’s eyes wandered from my toes up as I stood in the doorway wearing sleep shorts and a tank top.
Suddenly self-conscious, I crossed my arms over my chest. “I wasn’t expecting to see anyone tonight.”
“You look great.” He pressed the flowers into my hands and walked past me into the kitchen. He uncorked the wine and began scrounging through the cabinets.
I set the flowers on the counter and pulled two glasses out of the pantry. “Is this what you’re looking for? I don’t have wine glasses.”
Rolling his eyes mockingly, he took the glasses, set them on the counter and filled them to the brim with wine. “These will do.”
Joaquín took both glasses to the coffee table and set them down. Then he kicked off his shoes and stretched out on the sofa.
“Make yourself comfortable,” I quipped with my hands on my hips.
He patted the seat next to him with raised eyebrows.
With a laugh I sat down, grabbing my glass and taking a sip. “It’s good,” I said approvingly, taking another sip.
The Order of Chaos Page 4
