The non-interfering kind who let their children grow up and make their own mistakes. In other words, not my mother.
“That woman won’t hurt Jack. I simply will not allow it. I have every intention of saving him by whatever means necessary. If that includes destroying a few pesky humans, then so be it. I’ve already notified your brothers that we have a family crisis and I’ll need all of you at tea tomorrow.”
Code for “I’m butting my nose into his business and I expect the fruit of my loins to show their support and join in.”
“Eight o’clock sharp,” my mother added. “Do not be late again.” Beep.
The again lingered in my head and I remembered my mother’s first message when she’d switched hunt night.
If the police had been monitoring my voice mail—and Ty had assured me they were—then they had known about the hunt. Which meant they’d had my parents staked out on the off chance that I would show. I did and so they’d followed my from my folks’ house, back to the city, to Ty’s place. Hence, the raid.
Then again, if they had been following me, why hadn’t they nabbed me when they’d first spotted me in Connecticut? Why tail me all the way back to the city and risk losing me along the way?
Because no one had been watching.
Except Remy.
I thought again of Ty’s accusation. The dead certainty in his gaze. The conviction in his voice.
But we’re talking Remy. We’d been fixed up dozens of times. We’d talked. He liked me.
Duh.
He’s head over heels for you, pining away every night, plotting various ways to make you fall in love with him.
Meanwhile, you’re hiding out, playing kissy-nibble with a megalicious made vampire.
On top of that, you’re trying to set the poor schlub up with someone else. Of course he freaked and tipped off the cops. He’s jealous. You’re the one and only as far as he’s concerned and he can’t stand the thought of facing eternity without you.
It made sense.
Message two played and a familiar male voice slid into my ear. “Hey. It’s Remy. I know I told you to call me, but I figured why wait? So here I am. I know you’re not picking up, but I’m really psyched. I can’t wait another minute.”
What’d I tell ya?
“I know it’s short notice, but I have a city council reception on Friday night and I need an escort. I usually go solo, but I’m getting sick of being named Fairfield’s Most Eligible Bachelor. It’s time I took myself off the auction block and settled down. You mentioned Ayala and she sounded so perfect that I figured there’s no better time than the present to bite the bullet.”
Wait a sec. Ayala?
“Set it up and send the bill to my office.” Beep.
So much for jealous. Unless he was just a really skilled actor.
My pride went with number two and I made a mental note to call Evie and have her set up the Friday night date. Come on, if the guy had it bad for me, I didn’t want to return his call and put him through even more agony with the sweet sound of my voice.
And, of course, I didn’t want to have the cops after me again. While Ty had said the cell was untraceable, Remy Tremaine was very well connected. And a born vampire. I wasn’t taking any chances that he might be able to sniff me out at my new location.
The third message was from Evie.
“Ayala called again and said she absolutely can’t sit home this weekend. At least, that’s what I think she said. I hadn’t had any coffee since noon and she called really late. I think I might have missed something. But then I realized that I wrote it down so it seems I’m not so brain dead after all. The woman’s a ball buster. Help!”
Woman being the key word. Evie was still clueless when it came to my Other clients. She thought Ayala was simply a snotty, spoiled, pampered princess instead of a snotty, spoiled, pampered princess of darkness.
I smiled. Evie was going to be majorly psyched when she heard about Remy.
Message four? Nina One.
“I went for the pink, and I absolutely love it! At least, I think I love it. I won’t know for sure until I see it with a pair of shoes. The problem is I can’t decide between the ones I mentioned, or a pair of pussycat slides I saw at Gucci. I know, I know. Gucci and Vuitton? Arrest me now. But these slides are really the bomb and they look totally phat with the bag. But maybe not. Call me.” Beep.
Message five…
“Would you please call Nina?” It was Nina Two, the brunette half of The Ninas who’d recently committed to her soul mate—a born vamp accountant named Wilson—thanks to moi and my fantabulous matchmaking instincts. They were now living eternally ever after in Hoboken and desperately trying to populate the race.
Which meant a phone call from her these days was pretty rare, on account of her being so busy populating and all. Being mindful of my own responsibilities as a born vampire, I was totally understanding. Being mindful of my own sucky love life, I was also insanely jealous.
“She’s driving me nuts with this purse thing,” she went on. “She called right when Wilson and I were about to have sex during The O’Reilly Factor, and to tally killed the mood.”
Okay, so maybe I wasn’t that jealous.
“Not to mention, she’s turned into a point of contention between us. She blurted out the whole thing to Wilson and sucked him in. He’s voting for Gucci since their corporate stock is on the rise, while I think she should abandon the entire idea, return the Louis Vuitton, and invest her money in a nice CD. It’s safe.”
Did I mention that Nina Two is the practical one?
“Of course, she refused to listen,” Nina added. “The girl wouldn’t know a sound investment if it jumped up and bit her on the ass. Call her. Please. I have to go. CNN is running a special on the national deficit and Wilson gets really excited when they flash the coming year predictions.” Beep.
I ignored the visual that rushed at me courtesy of Nina Two’s parting statement and glanced at the front door. Still no sign of Ty. Not that I was counting the minutes or anything like that. Sure, I knew he’d been gone a total of twenty-six minutes because I’m an extremely conscientious person who keeps track of such things. But it wasn’t like I cared.
“Go for the pink pussycats,” I told Nina One after I pressed my speed dial to distract myself from the clock ticking away on the nightstand. Her answering machine picked up. “It’s totally retro,” I added. “Oh, and I’m fine. No bullet holes from my near brush with the authorities. Thanks for asking.”
I was feeling a little put out. I mean, geez, I’m wanted for murder and all my two best friends can talk about is shoes? Sure, we’re talking totally hot shoes, but still just footwear. Am I evolving or what?
I debated whether to call Nina Two, but a quick glance at the clock confirmed the start of the early morning news—complete with the latest market statistics—and I changed my mind. I was feeling bad enough. The last thing I needed was to interrupt someone having mad, passionate sex. Particularly since I wasn’t having any and Ty still wasn’t back.
Twenty-nine minutes…
I called my brother, Max, next and told him I couldn’t make the intervention/tea.
“I didn’t call Mom because she’s probably still up. I don’t want to talk to her because she’ll make me feel guilty and I can’t buckle this time. I’m already in enough trouble.”
“You worry too much.”
Uh, yeah.
“I’m a murder suspect, Max. I might go to prison.”
I knew I was being a bit melodramatic. I’m a vampire, after all, and so the possibility of me actually rotting away in prison was really slim to none. I had the resources to skip the country and live out my days in some exotic place with servants at my beck and call. Courtesy of my parents, of course. Which meant I could live out my days in some exotic country surrounded by servants and guilt.
But my life as I knew it—the life I’d come to actually like—would be over.
Bye-bye Dead End Dating. A
u revoir Ty. Hasta la vista Neiman’s.
“What am I supposed to tell her?”
“Tell her the truth.”
“She’ll still expect you there.”
“Tell her I met someone—a born vampire—and we’re too busy having wild, crazy monkey sex to come up for air, let alone tea.”
“Vampires don’t need air.”
“The point is, we’re busy. Making grandbabies.”
“And what’s the name of this baby-making vampire?”
Sheesh, did I have to make up everything? “I’m wanted for murder. I’m working the biggest client of my career. I’m barely keeping my hands off the guy who’s helping me out of this mess. Can you say mega stress? The least you can do as my oldest, and most protective, brother is come up with a really great name.”
“Okay, okay. I’ll tell her, but you owe me.”
“Put it on my tab.” I hit the off button and dialed Evie to tell her about Ayala.
“I love you,” she said groggily. “You’re the best boss ever. I’ll set it up as soon as I get to the office.”
“Any luck on the alpha hunt?”
She yawned. “I’ve got five candidates I spotted on line. A construction worker, an extreme sports nut, owner of a local Harley dealership, a fireman, and a bond enforcement agent.” Another yawn. “Actually, the bond guy has a twin which means I might have six. Except the twin is shy and that really isn’t an alpha trait.” Yawn.
“We can deal with shy.”
“Also, I’ve had seven phone calls from guys claim ing to have met me at a Knicks game. I’m assuming it was you.”
“Play along, call them back, and ask them the first screening questions.”
“What screening questions?”
“The ones I’m going to e-mail you this afternoon. It’s just an interview to weed out the serial killers and make sure we don’t have any closet betas in the mix.”
“Oh, I forgot. The super in my building is really bad ass with a power tool. He’s not much in the looks department because he had his nose broken back when he played high school football, but he’s got a great physique. On top of that, he’s single.”
“Does he have red hair?”
“Are you kidding? Anyway, he’s in his late twenties, single, and looking strictly for a little enthusiastic female companionship. Or to quote him, ‘A broad that really puts out.’ Tell me again why we’re remotely interested in players like this?”
“Because our clients want players.”
“For sex.” Yawwwwn. “So we’re like a sex service instead of a dating service.”
Actually, we were more like a procreation service, but I wasn’t going to tell Evie that. I ignored my own twinge of conscience. Survival of the species, I re minded myself. Higher purpose. Yada yada.
“Because if that’s what we are,” Evie went on, “we’ll have to lose the ‘happily ever after’ part of our ad. Maybe we could go with temporarily ever after?”
“You haven’t had your morning coffee, have you?”
“It’s five-thirty. I haven’t even opened my eyes yet.”
“We’re not setting up sex sessions. We’re a matchmaking service, i.e., we provide the initial match. What happens after they meet, be it sex, or falling in love, or both, is totally up to the individuals.”
“True. Besides we’re talking a whopper of a retainer fee.”
Have I mentioned that Evie and I were sisters in a past life? “And a bonus when we provide an Alpha Doody.”
“If we provide one.”
Okay, so maybe we were more like cousins. Second cousins. “Think optimistic.”
“It’s five-thirty. The only thing I’m thinking about right now is how many more minutes I can squeeze in before the alarm goes off. And speaking of squeezing, how goes it with the bounty hunter?”
“For the last time, I’m not with the bounty hunter. I’m flying solo. No accomplices. Nada.”
“You’re not getting any, are you?”
Not yet.
I squelched the thought. “Go back to sleep. I’ll call you later.”
“When it does happen, I want details,” she mumbled. “Lots of details.” Click.
When.
Yeah, right.
Not my type, I reminded myself. I needed a born vampire.
Even more, I needed fifteen alpha males (in addition to the thirteen Evie had come up with), one of which had to be a redhead. And I needed them in less than five days (it was now Sunday and the full moon rolled around on Friday). Otherwise Viola and the NUNS were going to miss their one shot to grow the species.
Which meant they would be pissed.
Which meant they would demand their money back.
That, or my head on a stick so they could plant it right next to the controversial azalea bushes. A little birdseed in my mouth and I’d be doubling as a feeder for the rest of eternity.
The realization was enough to distract me from any lustful thoughts I may have had when Ty arrived back at the cabin with several bags of supplies. He had everything from bottled gourmet blood to a three-pack of plain white Hanes T-shirts and a few pairs of blue jeans.
“Connections,” he told me when I arched an eyebrow at him.
After he put everything away, he stripped down to a pair of white BVDs, and stretched out on the full-size bed below.
All right, already. Maybe I wasn’t completely distracted, but I only looked for a few heart-pounding moments before I managed to tear my gaze away.
I rolled onto my back and shifted my attention to the ceiling, and the real problem—a backup plan to grow my alpha list.
One that didn’t have me visiting every sports store in New York. Or every shooting range. Or every biker bar. I needed a plan that wouldn’t require me to leave the cabin, and risk capture, and piss off Ty.
The possibilities didn’t exactly rush at me, but I wasn’t going to be discouraged. I wasn’t afraid of hard work. Or of getting creative and thinking outside the box.
I lived outside the friggin’ box.
I could totally do this.
“I can’t do this,” I told Ty.
It was Tuesday evening (yes, Tuesday) and I’d spent the past two days racking my brain for a viable method of rounding up alpha males without leaving the cabin, and I’d actually hit pay dirt.
Sort of.
I’d cruised every matchmaking site on the Internet and had come up with five more possibilities. Evie, bless her, had found an additional two, which gave us seven. Seven and thirteen made twenty. We were still eight shy, one of which had to have bright red hair.
Eight.
And the moon grew full in exactly three days.
“I mean it.” I paced toward the kitchen where Ty sat at the table, laptop in front of him. “I’m desperate.”
His gaze stayed riveted on the screen. “If you want out of this mess, you’ll have to be patient. This sort of thing takes time.”
“I’m not talking about the murder rap.” Ty’s quest for the real killer was going about as well as my search for an Alpha Doody.
Thanks to the cabin guy, we’d learned that the tip about my whereabouts had been made by an anonymous caller. What we didn’t know was whether or not the caller had been Remy Tremaine.
I waved a hand between him and the computer screen and he finally glanced up. “I’m talking about the Viola situation.”
She’d called to check my progress twice already.
Well, once to check my progress and the second time to inform me that she was taking out an official contract on my father and that she hoped his imminent death would in no way put a strain on our business arrangement. Apparently my dad had abandoned the weed killer idea and gone back to hacking away at the bushes himself. His choice of gardening tool? A chain saw.
Hey, his chain saw, his problem.
Anyhow, the point is, she’d called.
“I’ve got exactly seventy-two hours to fulfill her re quests,” I told Ty. Short of it starting to r
ain men—I had to admit I’d actually resorted to praying (do not tell my mother)—I’d come to the painful conclusion that it wasn’t going to happen.
I was going to fail Viola and Dead End Dating would be royally screwed.
“Would you just calm down? Everything’s going to be all right.”
“Easy for you to say. You don’t have an ovulating werewolf breathing down your neck.”
He grinned. “That’s true.”
I frowned. “I’m glad you find this funny.”
“It is funny.”
“Because it’s not your ass on the line.” I eyed him. “Do you know how hard it is to sit idly by while everything you’ve worked so hard for just gets pushed aside and your life gets put on hold?”
He glanced around. Half-empty bottles of blood sat here and there (yep, he’d been bottling it since the “other” woman incident). A stack of paperwork overflowed one cabinet and kept growing thanks to the portable printer/fax he’d set up in place of the squirrel centerpiece to keep in touch with the outside world while he was on hiatus helping me. “I sure as hell wouldn’t know about that.”
“Okay, fine. But do you know what it’s like to have your ultimate dream dangled right in front of you, so close you could touch it? But the thing is, you can’t because your hands are tied?”
He eyed me and something dark and dangerous and sensual flashed in his gaze. “Nope.” His voice was deep and husky and I swallowed. “Wouldn’t know about that one, either.”
“Forget that.” My brain raced, desperate to trade deep and husky for clear and to the point. “I bet you don’t know what it’s like to have an employee depending on you for every mocha latte and TiVo and her ultimate survival.”
“Wouldn’t know what that’s like, either. I’ve got three depending on me.”
“Three employees?” My brain stopped racing and tried to process. “But you don’t even have a real office. Do you?”
“I don’t need a real office. I just need a cell phone and a computer. My guys do what needs to be done, wherever it needs to be done, whenever I tell them it needs to be done. I direct deposit the funds in return for their help.”
Dead and Dateless Page 17
