Blood of Innocence

by Tami Dane

If only we could get off the subject of my father ...

  “I know very little about him, to be honest. He just recently ‘resurrected’ from the dead.” I made quotes in the air with my fingers when I said the word “resurrected.”

  Damen gave me a doubtful, slant-eyed look.

  “Let me clarify. He let my mother and me believe he was dead for over two decades. Then he just suddenly reappeared, got my mother knocked up, cheated on her, and then talked her into marrying him today.” I bit my lip. “Okay, that was probably a little more than you wanted to hear.” I determined it was a good time to busy my mouth with something besides talking. I was saying too much. I sucked on the skinny straw in my glass.

  “Actually, I appreciate the honesty.”

  I shrugged, hoping to appear relaxed, confident. “What’s the point in lying, right? We don’t know each other. I don’t need to impress you.”

  He stirred his drink. The ice clanked against the glass. “I wish more people felt that way. Just about everyone around me lies. They’re either trying to advance their career, or they’re trying to get to my mother, or they’re trying to push a political agenda... .”

  “Must suck, being a prince.” No, I didn’t feel that way. I could think of a million reasons why being a prince or princess would be downright fabulous, but I felt he was looking for some empathy.

  “No, it doesn’t ‘suck.’” He tipped his head slightly and studied me for a moment. Even though his gaze wasn’t hard or assessing, I felt my face warming. “It would suck having to stay away from your family, from missing every major event in your child’s life. From living day after day wondering what was happening to the woman you loved. Don’t you agree?”

  I lifted my chin. “I thought we were talking about you, not my father.”

  “I guess what I’m saying is I have it great, compared to some people.”

  I respected him for that. I lifted my glass to him. “Well played.”

  “I’m not trying to win a game, or a debate. I’m just trying to ... connect with someone.”

  “I—”

  Frankie Goes to Hollywood’s “The Power of Love” started playing, interrupting what I was trying to stammer out. “My folks love this song.”

  Damen took my hand and led me to the dance floor. His arms enfolded my body and the beat thrummed through me. I closed my eyes and leaned a little closer. We swayed to the beat.

  Now ... this felt good. Better than good. It felt right.

  When the song ended, I tipped my head back to thank him. He was looking down at me. His gaze locked on mine, and a current of sensual energy buzzed through my body.

  It was a magical moment.

  Until my freaking phone rang.

  It was in my handbag, but I knew from the ring that it was JT. Bad, horrible, atrocious timing. I decided to ignore it.

  “Are you going to answer it?” Damen asked as he released me and took a step back. It rang again. I gritted my teeth. “Sounds like someone is anxious to talk to you.”

  “It’s a coworker, but I’m off the clock.”

  My phone rang a fourth time.

  Damen and I exchanged a look. He took another step back and motioned to my purse. “I’ll let you get that.”

  “Thanks.” I dug my phone out and hit the button. “This had better be a matter of life or death.”

  “I need to talk to you. Now,” JT said.

  “I’m busy. Can’t it wait?”

  “No.”

  “JT, I’m at a wedding.”

  “It’s a matter of life and death.”

  “Does this have to do with our case?”

  He didn’t respond right away. “I can’t say for sure yet.”

  “What’s going on?” I asked.

  “It’s Brittany. She’s missing. And with our case ... you know ...”

  I glanced at Damen, who was staring out at the dance floor and pretending not to listen. I grumbled, “Where are you?”

  “I’m at home.”

  I heaved a heavy sigh. “I’ll be there in a half hour.”

  “Nice dress.” JT stepped aside, letting me into his house. Earlier, we’d packed up our things and vacated the rental.

  “I told you, I was at my parents’ wedding.” I gave him some seriously evil eyes as I click-clacked into his entryway.

  “No, actually, you said you were at ‘a wedding.’ You never specified.” JT ushered me toward the living room.

  I stood, arms crossed, next to the couch. “Whatever. So what’s the story with Hough?” I gritted my teeth as I said her name. Then I reminded myself that I didn’t have to be jealous of the woman who was carrying JT’s child. After all, I had just danced with a gorgeous prince who had a traffic-stopping smile. Of course, I had no idea if I’d ever see said gorgeous prince again. Because JT had called me, interrupting my evening.

  “She called me a few hours ago, but I’d left my cell phone in my car and missed the call. She said something about hearing a strange noise. Naturally, I got worried.”

  “Naturally.”

  “So I tried to call her back,” he continued, pacing back and forth so fast he was making me dizzy. “She didn’t answer.”

  I leaned against the side of the couch. “When did you call her?”

  “About an hour ago.”

  I checked the time. “Maybe she fell asleep?”

  “I went to her place. She’s not at home.”

  “Isn’t she married? Shouldn’t her ... wife ... be worrying about her?”

  “Whitney’s out of town on business. And she is worried. I called her from their driveway, and she gave me permission to break in.”

  “And ... ?”

  “I found Brittany’s phone and purse sitting on the kitchen counter. Her car’s in the garage.”

  I had to admit, that sounded suspicious. “So she left, but she didn’t drive. Have you checked local hospitals? Maybe she was taken in for some reason.”

  “No. Good idea.” He gave me a wilted smile. “Thank you for coming. I’m sorry I made you miss the wedding.”

  “It’s no big deal. The wedding was over. It’s just a reception.” I dug my cell phone out of my purse. “Let’s find Brittany.”

  “I’m sorry I made you worry,” Brittany told us an hour later. It was nearly midnight. We were at the hospital. Brittany was looking sleepy. I was feeling sleepy. JT had overdosed on caffeinated energy drinks. He would probably be up all night. He might even be up for the rest of the week. “You didn’t have to come here.”

  “Of course we had to come. We’re your friends,” JT said, sitting on the edge of her bed.

  Friends. Right.

  He continued, “Besides, we weren’t doing anything tonight.”

  Brittany glanced at me. “It looks like Sloan was. I doubt she puts on a full-length gown to watch Criminal Minds reruns.”

  “Actually, I do,” I said, shooting her a grin.

  I could tell by her reaction, she didn’t believe me. I wouldn’t believe me either.

  “What’s going on? Why did you call 911?” JT asked Brittany.

  “It’s no big deal. I heard something outside, so I went to check what it was. I tripped and fell then. The doctor told me I had to come in and be monitored for a few hours. My neighbor drove me in.”

  “And ... ?” he asked, brows raised.

  She pointed at the monitor sitting on the stand next to the bed. “Everything’s fine. I should be clear to go home anytime now.”

  “Thank God.” JT patted her hand. “We’ll wait until you’re released. I’ll drive you home.”

  “But maybe Sloan has somewhere to go? Did you two drive together?”

  “No, I drove myself. It’s okay,” I reassured her. “The reception was over at midnight. Which is”—I checked the clock on the wall—“was five minutes ago.”

  Brittany grimaced. “I’m so sorry, Sloan.”

  “Don’t worry about it.”

  “Just tell me it wasn’t someone very close to you,
” Brittany said.

  “It wasn’t someone very close to me,” I echoed.

  For my lie, I received a grateful smile from JT.

  “Sloan, you look tired,” Brittany said. “You don’t have to stay.”

  “I’m fine. Though I’d be more comfortable if I could sit down.” I glanced around the tiny curtained-off area, looking for somewhere to sit. I found a chair shoved way back, against the wall.

  I sat.

  I closed my eyes.

  What felt like five minutes later, JT was nudging me awake. “Sloan, it’s time to go. Are you sure you’re okay to drive?”

  “Sure. Wow. I guess I’m more tired than I thought.” I stretched and slowly pushed to my feet. Following JT, who was walking next to Brittany, riding in a wheelchair, I concentrated on getting alert enough to drive safely. At the hospital’s exit, I gave JT and Brittany a clipped “See you on Monday,” before heading out to find my car in the dark parking lot. As I walked, I powered up my cell phone, which I’d shut off while I was in the hospital.

  Three messages.

  The first was from my mother, who wanted to let me know how disappointed she was that I’d left her wedding reception without saying good-bye. I’d expected as much.

  The second, however, was very unexpected.

  “Hi, this is Damen. Your father gave me your number. I wanted to call to thank you for the dance and see if you’d maybe like to go out to dinner sometime.”

  The answer to his inquiry was hell yes.

  After saving his cell phone number on my phone so I could call him during a decent hour, I checked the third message.

  Katie.

  “Sloan, you won’t believe what happened tonight! I’m spending the night in the Presidential Suite at the Washington Court. Call me.”

  Deciding she was probably too busy to take my call, I headed to bed. The instant my head hit the pillow, I was in dreamland.

  It is easier to find a score of men wise enough to discover the truth than to find one intrepid enough, in the face of opposition, to stand up for it.

  —A. A. Hodge

  27

  The next morning, I lazed in bed until almost nine o’clock. It felt so good getting that much sleep. When I finally forced myself to get up, I was rested, alert, and more than a little giddy.

  The dreams I’d had—all triple-X-rated—starred a certain handsome, polite, charming prince.

  Yes, it was a good thing, stepping back from the stress and pressure of our case for a day or two. Now I could see how wound-up, how anxious, and how narrow-focused I’d become.

  When we’d been working our first case, I’d barely slept. I was on the run constantly, and pushed myself to exhaustion, and beyond. I’d done a little better with this case. But I had still been pushing hard, taking personal responsibility for every new victim we found, for every infant who was stolen.

  If I kept this up, I’d burn out before the end of the summer.

  Making a vow to myself to keep my life a little more balanced—or at least make more than a halfhearted effort at doing so—I started the coffeemaker. That done, I showered and dressed. Katie came bouncing in just as I was making my way back to the kitchen for my first cup of caffeine.

  “Oh, my God!” she said, hopping up and down. She was rumpled; her clothes were a wrinkled mess; her hair was a tangle of waves; and her makeup was totally gone. But she was practically glowing. She flopped onto the couch, grinning. “What a night! What an incredible, magical, unbelievable night!”

  “That good?” I poured her a cup of coffee and sat beside her. After handing her the cup, I said, “Tell me everything.”

  “First, I did not sleep with him. Just so you know. But I wanted to!” Grinning like a goof, she closed her eyes and tipped back her head. “His name is Viktor, with a k. He’s so polite, and charming, and funny. We just sat up and talked all night long. And then he kissed me, and, I swear to God, I saw fireworks.”

  “Fireworks, huh?”

  “Yeah. Beautiful fireworks. Sparkling colors.” She opened her eyes. “Wow, I sound like I’ve totally lost it, don’t I? It’s crazy, but I think I’m in love. Just like that. I’ve fallen in love in one night.” She slurped her coffee.

  “Katie, this isn’t the first time... .”

  She waved off my comment. “I know, I know. It’s insane. And I know I’ve said that before. But this is different. Viktor’s different.” She sipped again, smacked her lips. “Great coffee.” She took another sip. “Don’t worry. I won’t do anything impulsive, like run away to Vegas and become Mrs. Viktor.”

  “I’ll kill you if you do.”

  “That’s why you’re my best friend.” Katie took another slurp, then set the cup down and propelled herself off the couch. “Gotta get going. Viktor’s taking me sailing today. On his yacht. He’s picking me up in an hour. I don’t know if I have anything yachtworthy. What does a girl wear on a yacht?”

  “A hot bathing suit and a smile?” I suggested.

  She grimaced. “The latter I can do. The former?” She glanced at the clock. “I wonder if I have time to run over to Macy’s and pick up a new swimsuit? Maybe if I hurry ...” She dashed into the bathroom and slammed the door.

  While Katie readied herself for her sailing date, I sat down on the couch with my dad’s research and started reading through it. While I had just made a vow to keep my life in balance, I was bored. I needed something to occupy my mind.

  Twenty minutes later, Katie zoomed out the door.

  A couple of hours after that, my phone rang.

  It was Damen. I couldn’t poke the button to answer the call fast enough.

  “Hello,” I said.

  “Hi. It’s Damen.”

  “What’s up?” I hugged a sofa pillow to my chest. I swear, my heart was pounding so hard, it was bruising my breastbone.

  “I was wondering what you were doing tonight?”

  “Hmm. Let me think. I may have plans. To go out to dinner? With a certain man I’d met last night ...”

  He chuckled. I really, really liked the way that sounded. “Well, damn. I guess I’ll have to try another time.” After a well-timed beat, he suggested, “What about we get together tonight, then, around six or so. How does that sound?”

  “Sounds wonderful.”

  He told me where he planned on taking me, and that we’d have a six o’clock reservation. “I’ll see you tonight, at the restaurant.”

  “Okay. Bye.” I didn’t end the call. I waited for him to hang up. Then I sat there stunned for a few minutes. Once the gray matter started functioning again, I decided I needed to run out and pick up something new for tonight’s date. Something a little sexy, but also sophisticated.

  I grabbed my purse and headed out.

  At six-thirty, I roared into the restaurant’s parking lot. Everything was messed up. I was late, looking like crap, and feeling like crap for wrecking Damen’s plans. After a quick makeup check in the rearview mirror, I glossed up my lips and racewalked inside.

  At the hostess table, I said, “Hi, my name’s Sloan. I was supposed to meet a man named Damen here about a half hour ago. I don’t suppose he’s still waiting ... ?”

  “Let me check. I just started my shift.” The hostess looked at her little grid of tables, then stepped away from her podium. She returned a minute later, smiled, and said, “This way, please.”

  I couldn’t believe it. I mentally rehearsed my apology while I followed her through the main dining room to a quiet room set off to one side. There were maybe a dozen tables in the room. Only one was occupied.

  Damen stood and greeted me with a smile that made my heart do a little flip-flop.

  “I am so sorry,” I said as I scurried up to the table.

  He leaned into me, offering a quick, much-too-polite hug. “It’s okay. I was late too. I just got here about ten minutes ago.” He motioned to the chair across from his.

  I sat, accepting his help with the chair. “Thanks for being so understanding. I ca
n’t believe how crazy things have been today.”

  “I’m sorry it was bad. I had a rough day too.” He lifted a bottle of wine, showing me the label. “I’m sure we could both use a drink.”

  I’m not much of a drinker. The label meant nothing to me. I wouldn’t be able to recognize the difference between a five-dollar wine and a five-hundred-dollar bottle. But wine sure sounded good after my insane afternoon. I lifted the empty glass sitting next to my appetizer plate. “Thanks, I’ll take a little.” As he poured, I asked, “So what’s a rough day for a prince like?” I sipped. Delicious.

  “There’s a brother you didn’t meet last night,” he said, looking grave. He set the bottle down, leaving his hand resting on the table. “The youngest. He’s been in Afghanistan for weeks, serving in an MP unit of the U.S. Army. I don’t have all of the details yet, but we received word that his unit was attacked during a training exercise with the Afghan National Army. He’s missing.”

  “Oh, my gosh, I’m so sorry.” Our gazes locked, and I was blown away by the worry and agony I saw in his eyes. My afternoon had been pretty crappy, but nowhere near as bad as that.

  Damen looked down at the table; he fiddled with his napkin. “Of course, my first instinct is to get on the first flight out and go find him.”

  “Of course.”

  “My mother is refusing to let me go. There are some complications. I’m not a member of the U.S. military. As a civilian, I can’t just fly out there and join the hunt.” He shoved his fingers through his hair. “But my mother could make it happen, if she tried.”

  “She doesn’t want you to go.”

  His jaw clenched. “She said she won’t send two sons into a war zone.”

  “She wants to protect you.”

  He shrugged. “I know.” He sighed. His lips twitched. “Anyway, I don’t want to dump all this on you. We don’t really know each other.”

  I reached across the table and set my hand on his. “Don’t worry about it. You needed someone to talk to, someone to listen. I’m flattered you trust me.”

  His glance slid to our hands. He flipped his over so that my fingers rested on his palm. “I thought about canceling tonight, but I thought a distraction would be good, since my hands are tied.” Then he curled his fingers a tiny bit and his fingertips grazed the sensitive skin on my wrist. A tingle buzzed up my arm.