“Well, a resident. But it’s still a doctor. I work at the ME’s office in the city. I was just having a nightcap with my future in-laws and my future sister-in-law.” She spared me a smile before flashing her left hand. The massive diamond caught the glare of the flashlight and sparkle of light streaked across the cab’s interior. “I’m getting married.”
“Congratulations.” The beam shifted to me and I stiffened.
Lights, camera, action!
“Hi.” My lips tilted in a sexy, inviting smile. Sexy was the key. And sultry. And seductive. This woman was going to fall hook, line, and sinker for me.
And if not?
I inched my right hand toward the door handle.
“Name?” she snapped as my fingers tightened around the slim handle and pulled.
Nothing. My gaze shifted to the lock button.
“Miss?”
My attention swiveled back. “Yes?”
“Your name?” the officer prodded.
“Vanderflunkinpitt,” I blurted. Sexy, you idiot! “But you can call me Bambi.” Bambi? Hey, I’m a vampire, not an actress. Besides, I was nervous and disappointed and desperate, and so I wasn’t thinking clearly. “But enough about me. What about you, Officer…” My gaze dropped to the nametag on her uniform. “Morris?”
My memory stirred and I recognized her as the rookie who’d been with Remy Tremaine a few nights ago on my parents’ doorstep. Not a good thing to recall since I also remembered that Remy had vamped her. Which meant she was straight. Which meant I was F-U-C-K-E-D.
I forced a smile. “What’s your first name?”
“I don’t think that’s relevant right now,” Officer Morris told me, wagging her free hand at me. “Hand over some identification.”
“I didn’t know your middle name was Bambi.” Mandy nudged me as I reached into my purse. “Jack said it was some French thing.”
“Bambi’s French.” I rummaged in my bag.
“Bambi is not French,” she said beneath her breath.
“Sure, it is. It comes from the word bambino.”
“That’s Italian.”
“It sounds French.” I pulled out my ID and reached over the seat to hand it to Officer Morris. Her gaze collided with mine and I smiled again—ultra sexy this time. “Here you go.”
“This doesn’t say Bambi,” she said after shining her light on the laminated card.
“Bambi is my, um, stage name. I’m a dancer. Yeah, that’s what I am. A female dancer. That is, I dance for females. Males, too, but they tend to get much too loud and rowdy, and most of them couldn’t spot a pair of Kenneth Coles if their life depended on it…”
Yikes, I was sinking fast. “But I bet you would. I bet you have excellent taste in clothes.”
Here goes nothing…
And I bet you like dancers, too, I added mentally. In fact, you love them. You think they’re hot, particularly me. I’m the hottest you’ve ever seen—especially wearing my new lip gloss—and you can’t wait to see me peel off my clothes one piece at a time. You’re picturing it right now because you want me. You want me B-A-D.
“I need you to step out of the car…” she started, but then her words faded. A bright gleam lit her eyes and a look of pure rapture slid across her face.
I reached across and plucked my ID from her hands. She didn’t budge. She simply stood there, frozen. Enamored.
What can I say? I totally rock.
“Actually, I’m the one who rocks.” The deep, familiar voice slid into my ears as I stuffed my ID back into my purse. My head swiveled and I found myself staring through the glass at Remy Tremaine.
Relief swept through me, followed by a mega dose of “Oh, no!” when he motioned for me to step out of the car.
My fingers went to the unlock button, but I couldn’t make myself press it.
“Come on, Lil.”
“No.” What if Remy had changed his mind about me? What if he now believed the mounting evidence? What if he’d gambled away all of his earnings and desperately needed my bounty to bail his own ass out of a difficult situation?
“I don’t gamble and my ass is perfectly fine, and I don’t just think you’re innocent. I know it.”
My gaze snapped up and collided with his. He grinned. “You were thinking out loud. Now open up.”
I stabbed the button, opened the door and climbed from the car.
“Give us a sec,” he said to Mandy as he closed the door behind me.
I followed him up onto the sidewalk. The nearest house sat a half mile up the winding, shrub-lined street. Moonlight spilled down around us and lit up the darkness.
Remy wore a white dress shirt, his tie undone, his collar unbuttoned. He had on navy slacks and inexpensive shoes. His badge hung on his belt near a very dangerous looking gun.
He crossed his arms and eyed me for several long moments before I finally broke the uncomfortable silence.
“So how’s it going?” I tried to sound nonchalant.
“It would be better if I didn’t have wanted felons prancing around Fairfield’s most affluent neighborhood in the middle of the night.”
“I’m not prancing. I’m riding. Back to the city with Jack’s fiancée.”
His gaze slid past me to Mandy, who leaned forward in her seat and passed a hand in front of Officer Morris’s transfixed stare. “A human?”
I shrugged. “They’re in love.” I braced myself for the expected “Vampires don’t believe in love” speech so popular with most of my kind.
“I bet your parents are really upset.”
“They don’t actually know, not about the fiancée part. They think Mandy’s a phase.”
“What do you think?”
“I think it’s none of our business. What’s up with the roadblock?”
“It’s not a roadblock. It’s a checkpoint. To monitor activity in and out of the area. See, if I don’t keep an eye on things here, NYPD will move in and do it for me, and I’m not going to let that happen. They’ve been back and forth, stepping on toes as it is. They’re determined to find you.” He eyed me. “And they intend to be first in line.”
“I guess you heard about the bounty.”
“Fifty thousand dollars is a lot of money.”
“It’s one hundred thousand,” I clarified. “They just raised it on account of some really incriminating evidence that makes me look extremely dangerous.” He didn’t look the least bit impressed. Rather, he looked worried.
Remy was a family friend. It only stood to reason that he would be worried about a huge bounty. That would mean more people looking for me. Questioning my parents. Disrupting his town.
“Don’t worry, they won’t find me. I’m keeping a low profile.”
“By showing up at your parents’ on a Saturday night?”
“The hunt was tonight.” ’Nuff said.
Remy nodded. “Still, you shouldn’t be riding around in a cab. It’s too risky. There are too many people looking for you.”
“Not for long.”
“You’re not planning on turning yourself in, are you? Because that wouldn’t be a good idea. This case is really stacked against you and unless you know something that we don’t—”
“Not yet,” I cut in. “But I’m working on it. That’s what I meant. I plan on putting a stop to all of this myself. Soon.”
“How’s that?”
“I’ve got a plan. I’m going to find the real murderer—the person framing me—and expose them.”
“You and what team of investigators?”
“Not a team. Just one, and he’s not an investigator. Not officially, anyway. He’s an independent fugitive apprehension agent.”
“A bounty hunter?”
I nodded. “Ty’s been really great. He let me crash at his place and he’s helping me figure all of this out.”
“Ty? Ty Bonner?”
“You know him?”
“I know of him. Colors outside the lines, but then most of his kind do.”
; “He’s a really decent guy. And extremely smart.”
He nodded. “Obviously. He knows a good investment when he sees one.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“That you’re the key to whoever did it. If you are being framed for murder, it’s because someone’s out to get you. Meaning they’re not likely to sit by while you evade the cops. They’ll go after you again, and when they do, Ty will be right there. He gets the real murderer and the bounty. And you get to clear your name. Sounds like a mutually beneficial arrangement.”
I’d never really thought about it like that. Instead, I’d been thinking of Ty as this white knight, believing in me, rescuing me, sacrificing for me. When all he was really doing was making an investment in his own future.
Still. He had believed me and rescued me and he was sacrificing his own bed for my comfort.
“Nice work.” I killed the subject and pointed to the female officer, who stood transfixed by the driver’s window. “But I thought she was married.”
“What can I say? She’s got an active imagination starring yours truly.”
“Just her imagination?”
“We might have spent a little time together before she tied the knot, but we’re just friends now. I’ve given up humans for a while. After so many, they all start to blend together. I figured I’d hold out for something that might last a little longer.”
As in eternity.
I eyed Remy. Blond. With definite loyalty potential since he’d given up humans. “Are you serious? Because if you are, I’ve got a hot, sexy, mega-orgasmic born female who would be perfect for you.”
He grinned. “I thought I wasn’t your type.”
“I wasn’t talking about me.” Even if my heart did skip its next beat. What could I say? I was wired from my near brush with incarceration and obviously not thinking clearly. Me and Remy? No way. “Her name is Ayala. If you’re game, I could hook the two of you up.” I handed him a card.
He slid the number into his pocket. “I’ll call you.” He motioned to the cab driver who seemed mesmerized by the steady rise and fall of the female officer’s chest. “Make sure he thinks this is all just a really great dream when he gets back to the city.”
“I’m on it.”
His grin faded into a stern look. “And don’t give him one of your cards. The less evidence there is that you’re moving around, the better.”
“Who? Me? I would never do such a thing.”
I would, however, jot Evie’s name and number down on a piece of paper and slip it onto the cabbie’s dash. Just in case, you know, he got lonely.
Not that I mentioned as much to Remy. Instead, I spent the next few minutes talking about my dating service and filling him in on more Ayala facts. In the back of my mind, I pictured Ayala and Remy tying the knot and naming their firstborn after me. I also pictured Ty.
For his own personal gain.
The notion followed me back into the cab after I said good-bye to Remy. After a full five minutes of him lecturing me: Stay inside, don’t go out, don’t do this, don’t do that, don’t let Ty get too close—okay, so what was that about? It’s not like Remy should be jealous. Sure, we’d been on dates, but I didn’t like him and he didn’t like me.
Did he?
Nah. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have practically agreed to a date with Ayala. One that I was certain would be extremely successful. How could she not like Remy?
I tried to dwell on that question rather than the personal gain thing, but number two eventually won out.
What can I say? I was extremely hurt. And angry. And ready for a confrontation.
By the time I reached Ty’s loft, I’d abandoned the idea of a confrontation and glommed on to the notion of delving.
Confrontation was such an ugly word and hinted at wrongdoing, and Ty really hadn’t done anything wrong. The guy was helping me—for whatever reason—and so there was nothing to call him out on.
But delving…That I could do subtly, carefully, without appearing ungrateful and mega bitchlike. I would just kick back, keep the conversation going, and ease into the subject slowly. Very slowly. And sort of feel him out.
Can you say paranoid? I wasn’t trying to be, I just couldn’t help myself. I wanted to know why. Even more, I needed to know. Then, if Ty really wanted the money more than he wanted to help me, I could classify him as a good-looking shit and maybe, just maybe, I wouldn’t be so in lust with him.
But if he really was trying to help me with no thought for his own personal gain…My heart fluttered at the prospect and my determination grew.
“Where the hell have you been?” he demanded when he hauled open the door before I’d so much as turned the knob. He wore the usual black jeans, but he’d traded the black T-shirt for a black leather vest that made his shoulders look even more broad and muscular. He looked as sexy as ever, and royally pissed. “Didn’t I tell you to stay put?”
“Are you just after the reward, or are you helping me because you want to?” So much for delving.
He blinked. “What?”
“You heard me.” I moved past him into the apartment and turned. Our gazes collided. “Why are you helping me?”
“Because you asked me to.” He slammed the door closed and threw the deadbolt. “Not that I’ll have to do it for much longer because you’re this close to landing your sweet ass in jail.”
That wasn’t really the answer I was looking for.
“I know I asked, but why did you agree? Just because I asked or because I’m sitting here with one hundred thousand dollars stamped on my sweet ass and you know if you help me, you’ll find the real killer and collect the bounty?”
He eyed me. “What the hell difference does it make?”
“I know it seems irrelevant because, bottom line, I’ve got a safe place to stay and zero reason to bitch, and I’m not bitching. Not really. And I wasn’t even remotely concerned about it until Remy said that you—”
“Remy?” he cut in.
“Remy Tremaine. He’s the police chief in Fairfield where my folks live. He said that you—”
“Wait a second. You’ve been with the Fairfield police chief for the past three hours?”
“Not exactly. I was at my parents’ most of the time, but then I ran into Remy when I left—he had this roadblock set up—and we talked and he said—”
“You talked to the chief of fuckin’ police?”
“It’s okay. He’s a good guy. Although in this situation, I suppose we could call him a bad guy since I’m considered the bad guy and he’s on my side, but he’s totally cool and he said you were a really smart guy.” There. That should ease the frown drawing his face tight.
The face got tighter. “You mentioned me to the chief of fuckin’ police?” He raked a hand through his hair. “Did you write down my address and invite him over for dinner, too?”
“Well, no. He likes to eat alone, but—you’re being sarcastic, aren’t you?”
“Shit.” He went a little red around the cheeks. “Why don’t you just advertise your whereabouts in Times Square? Better yet, put it on CNN. A late-breaking story. Stop killing yourselves, guys. She’s right fucking here.”
“What? You’re really worried about Remy?”
Even as the question left my mouth, I remembered my own initial panic in the cab when I’d seen the Fairfield police chief. Friend or foe, I’d wondered—for, like, five seconds.
However briefly, the point is, I had wondered.
Still. We’re talking Remy.
“He’s a very good friend of the family’s and completely devoted to my folks, as well as all of the extremely wealthy members of his community. The real killer could torture him and he wouldn’t spill his guts.” At least, I didn’t think so.
“And if he’s the real killer?”
What? “You’ve got to be kidding.” I couldn’t help but smile.
Just as the expression slid across my face, Ty’s look grew even more thunderous. His eyes narrowed to
dangerous slits and I felt a tingle down south.
Wrong time, wrong place, wrong man, I know. What can I say? I was desperately horny and a total sucker for dark, dangerous, delicious-looking bounty hunters.
I forced my lustful thoughts aside and shook my head. “Remy’s a nice guy.”
“He’s a vampire.”
“A nice vampire.” Okay. That sounded ridiculous even to me, and I’m the one who said it. “Sure, we’re all vicious bloodsuckers, but some of us aren’t as vicious as others. We have a civilized layer beneath the hunger. And the greed. And the narcissism.” I was definitely digging my hole deeper. “You just have to peel all the other stuff back to get to the real character beneath. Besides”—I shrugged—“he likes me.”
“He likes you? So you spilled your guts and compromised our position because he likes you?”
“I didn’t tell him where you lived.”
“He can find out.”
“If he wanted to find out, which he doesn’t.”
“Because he’s a nice guy and he likes you?”
“Exactly.”
He shook his head. “You’re going to get us both staked.”
“The cops don’t want to stake me. They want to arrest me.”
“I’m not talking about the cops. There’s a murderer out there.”
“And there are two extremely powerful vampires in here.”
“More like stupid.” His eyes blazed. “You should’ve stayed put.”
“But—”
“Dammit, Lil, can’t you just own up to it? You’ve made a mistake. The least you can do is admit it and apologize.”
He shook his head again and looked as if he wanted to wring my neck. Or kiss me.
I voted for number two. I lost.
“What the hell am I saying?” He threw up his hands. “I don’t need your apology.” He glared at me. “You don’t set foot out of this apartment.”
“I—”
“Or float out.”
“I—”
“Or fly out.”
“But I—”
“Nothing. You got that?”
“I really think you’re blowing this out of propor tion. Even if he had it, Remy wouldn’t disclose our location to anyone. He’s not like that.”
“Says you.”
Dead and Dateless Page 14
