BloodlustandMetal

by Lisa Carlisle

  “Why would a bouncer lie about something like that?”

  “People lie for all kinds of crazy reasons. Or she returned and he just didn’t see her. People come and go in clubs all night long. It’s hard to remember all the faces.”

  “But then why wouldn’t Angelica answer my calls?” My voice lilted at the end and I made a conscious effort to keep it level before I continued. “Why wouldn’t she call me back when I said I was worried?”

  A part of me knew it might be because I was pushing her too hard. That she had enough of my protective streak always looking over her. This Westcott guy picked up on this right away.

  “Was your relationship strained in any way?”

  “Why do you ask that?”

  “Because when people go missing there are usually two reasons. Either they’re in trouble. Or they’ve disappeared of their own free will for some personal reason. Do you think either one of those are more likely here?”

  I could debate this in my head all day long with arguments for each. “I think it could be either one.”

  Westcott said he’d go by the club Vamps when it opened up again for the evening. I paid him for two days work and hoped I wasn’t wasting money.

  Layla

  I didn’t say a word to Devon on the way to Stefano’s place. Devon used the silver handcuffs just as he promised, only at least he had the decency to let me sit up in the backseat of the car this time.

  The windows were tinted. And the car door had childproof locks. I checked. Oh, he was so thorough it just made me sick!

  As the lively bustle of London gave way to the rolling fields outside of the city, my anxiety heightened. We were getting closer. Several minutes passed before I recognized the turn that led to Stefano’s place.

  He lived in an old Tudor outside of London. Close enough to get into the city, but enough of a distance to have more privacy. The Tudor stood formidably against the night sky. I always thought it held a majestic, Gothic appeal, but now it only appeared dangerous and foreboding. Shivers of terror shot into me, which I forced away, putting on a brave face. If I was to meet my eternal end tonight, I’d meet it with dignity.

  Neither Stefano nor Devon would have the satisfaction of seeing me beg for my life.

  “Ready, sweetheart?” Devon asked.

  I answered his question with a glare, fully aware that my anger probably turned my eyes.

  “I’ll take that as an ‘I’m as ready as I’ll ever be, Devon!’” he added.

  “What you’re doing is horrible enough. You don’t have to be an asshole about it.”

  “You’re right,” he said. “But at least I got you to talk to me. It’s been quite the long drive with your hateful gaze boring into the back of my skull.”

  “And how would you know that with your eyes faced front?”

  “I’ve had to keep an eye on you the whole time, my feisty little minx. The rearview mirror isn’t enough. I have a camera on you that I can watch up here.”

  I looked over the front of the seat, but couldn’t climb high enough to see his device. “Wouldn’t you make a splendid James Bond?” I added with contempt.

  “Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind the next time they’re casting for a new one.” He looked into the rearview mirror as if sizing up his appearance. “You’re right, I would be perfect for the role.”

  “I never thought I’d say this,” I said. “But I’m looking forward to going to Stefano. Because that means I no longer have to spend any time with you!”

  “Aww, sunshine. Why do you say such cutting words? That’s okay, your body spoke volumes earlier as to how you truly felt.”

  Scowling, I said, “Let’s get on with this.”

  Devon

  We met Stefano’s bodyguards Lee and Garrett at the front entrance. They sized me up when I walked into the foyer area and I returned the favor.

  Garrett nodded at me and then said, “Layla. Is that you? I almost didn’t recognize you with the new hair.”

  “It’s me, Garrett.”

  “Good to see you. Although I wish it was in better circumstances.”

  “Thanks,” Layla said. “Me too.”

  “I hope it goes well for you,” Lee said.

  “How has he been? Any clue as to what he’s going to do with me?”

  Lee shook his head. “Sorry. He only mentioned that the bounty hunter had found you and that he’d be returning you tonight.”

  “Good luck, Layla,” Garrett said.

  “Thanks.”

  Lee picked up his phone and called Stefano. “They’re here.” A few seconds later, he hung up the phone and said, “Go on in. He’s expecting you.”

  “I bet he is,” Layla muttered under her breath.

  “Straight down the hall. Second room on the right.”

  We walked down the dark hallway, filled with dusty antiques cluttering up the way. She held her chin up. I knew she was steeling herself for what lay ahead and I took a few quick steps to catch up with her. Despite the tough front, I saw the worry on her face when I looked over at her. Seeing how small she looked in this giant Tudor, how vulnerable she appeared no matter what her strength, gave me a jolt of guilt for bringing her here.

  I knocked on the heavy oak door.

  “Enter,” Stefano said.

  Did he have to sound like a vampire from a different time? Couldn’t he just say come in?

  “I got her,” I said, pulling her into the room. The looks they exchanged clearly indicated they were not long-lost friends reuniting.

  “Layla,” Stefano said when we entered the open room off the hall. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

  I looked around, surveying the room. What the heck was it? A great room? A sitting room? Certainly not one you’d find in either my London flat or my country home. There was no furniture, just a tapestry on one wall, old weapons displayed on another and objets d’art on the rest. Whatever you’d call a nonfunctional room like this, it reeked of money.

  Stefano appeared as unappealing as always to me with his pale face, cold eyes and pointy nose. His scent was as pungent as ever, what I thought all vampires smelled like—the dead. His taste in clothing was peculiar. He favored English tweed, which I thought far too subdued for a vampire I believed to be hundreds of years old.

  The tension was thick enough to have a physical presence. But then Stefano cut through it when he asked her a question, sounding more like a parent than whatever their relationship was. “What the hell did you do to your hair?”

  “Stefano,” Layla began. “I know you think I did something to betray you, but I didn’t. I never would. Why would I do that to you when you’ve been so good to me?”

  I stayed out of it and tried to remain objective as I watched their interaction.

  “That’s what made it cut so deep. I took you in, cared for you, treated you like family,” Stefano said. “And how do you thank me? You turned on me. Stole from me.”

  “Stefano, listen to me, please. I didn’t steal anything. I would never take anything from you. I appreciate everything you’ve done for me.”

  “Money can make villains out of the sweetest ones amongst us. Especially those who don’t have it.”

  My eyes followed from one to the other. Both appeared to believe what they were saying. Layla pleading her innocence; Stefano believing her guilty. Both his pain and his thirst for vengeance smoldered under the veil of his thinly controlled emotions.

  “Stefano, how can I prove it to you that it wasn’t me?”

  “You can’t. Your actions spoke for you. The painting disappeared and so did you. All you can do at this point is give me my painting back and hope I take it into consideration when contemplating a suitable punishment.”

  “Stefano, I will do all I can to help you get it back, but I didn’t take it. I had to run. I heard you suspected me. I tried calling to explain to you, but your rage was palpable over the phone. You wouldn’t listen to my explanation. You swore you’d kill me for betraying you. I saw no
other option than to run.”

  “Oh Layla, your mistrust in me is unwarranted. Since when have I ever shown anything toward you but fatherly affection?”

  If Layla’s description of the phone conversation was accurate, that might have been one moment. I, however, kept my opinion to myself.

  “I don’t know why you’re so sure it was me. Someone is obviously trying to set me up.”

  “I expected you’d say that. Pass the blame onto someone else.” He waved his hand. “Go ahead. You have two minutes to give me your defense.”

  I’d seen conversations like this play out in a similar fashion more times than I could count. Usually I tried to get my payment and get out of there before it happened, but in most cases, reunion emotions were high. And the blame game had to be played out before I exited as a slightly richer man.

  “I heard you suspected I’d stolen something from you, although I wasn’t even sure what it was until I called you. I was warned that my life was in danger and I had to run.”

  “Who told you this? No, never mind. It’s probably a lie to begin with.”

  “Stefano, no,” she pleaded. “I wouldn’t lie to you.”

  This time, it was more difficult to me to remain impassive. I tried not to look at Layla as she defended herself, but failed. There she was, looking so fragile, vulnerable and hurt, not looking at all like the strong vampire I knew she could be. Hell, I’d experienced the fury—and the passion—in her delicate limbs myself. Now it took all my willpower not to go over and cradle her in my arms, pull her into my chest and tell her it was going to be all right.

  Because it wasn’t going to be.

  “Why did you do it?” Stefano continued. “The money was so important to you?” He motioned around the room. “Living here wasn’t enough?”

  “I didn’t, Stefano. I swear on it.”

  “Would you swear on your own grave?”

  “I would.”

  “Ha! That’s nothing but an empty expression coming from a vampire. How many of us have graves? And if we do, they’re empty. Or not our bodies.”

  “Then I swear on whatever you want me to swear on! It was somebody else.”

  “And you do you think it might be?”

  I watched Stefano for a change in his reaction. Was he about to listen to her? Would he even entertain the notion that it could be someone else? Or was he humoring her since he’d already condemned her in his mind?

  “I don’t want to throw out accusations, but it could be anyone.”

  “Go on.” He held his hand out as if encouraging her to spill her line of thought. “Like who?”

  She tapped her chin. “Any of us who live here could have been involved. Or it could have been an outside job.”

  “All the evidence points to you, my dear.”

  “Why? I don’t get it. It could be anyone you know, Stefano. Even someone else in this house.”

  “Did I leave out the most incriminating parts?” He chuckled in a mocking manner. “How silly of me. Eyewitness accounts.”

  “From who?”

  “From so many resources that it’s impossible for you to refute. You were seen looking at the painting while discussing it over the phone. You were heard discussing some sort of financial transaction over the phone. You were seen leaving the house with a package that matches the size of the painting.”

  Layla appeared taken aback. “Not one of these things ever happened, Stefano!” She took a few deep breaths before continuing. “I’m not accusing anyone, but for the sake of argument, let me show you how it’s possible. Lee and Garrett. What’s to say that either one of them—or both—didn’t hatch a plan? Then there’s Jon. Or even Gayle. Any one of them could have been involved. Then me, as the newcomer, could easily be framed to take the blame.”

  “They’ve been loyal to me for years. Garrett has been with me the shortest time, but still, eleven years is long enough for me to know him well. Gayle has been with me for a century. And during that time, they’ve never given me reason to suspect them of anything. They’ve been handsomely paid for their services, more so than they would elsewhere, so I’ve given them no reason to want to steal from me. And Gayle, she’s my life partner. She has everything she wants or needs. You, on the other hand, just lived here. You didn’t have a job or a way of making money.”

  “I was in between jobs. They cut me as a bartender and I was exploring new options. Considering I can only work nights, it cut down on the avenues I could pursue.”

  Stefano raised his hand to stop her. “I wasn’t finished. You’ve only been with me for a couple of years. You’re young, you’re broke, you’re skittish and haven’t even grown accustomed to becoming a vampire. You have never proved any loyalty to me. And worst of all, you ran away.”

  “I had to. Lee and Garrett warned me you were going to kill me.”

  “So that’s who warned you,” Stefano said. “I’ll deal with them later. You know, you’re lucky. If I saw you the day I saw the painting was gone, you’d be nothing but ashes right now. You know how much I loved that painting, not to mention its value.”

  Layla gave up trying to appear tough. “I know you do. I’m sorry about what you think I’ve done, but I swear to you, I didn’t.”

  “Enough. I’ve spent enough time and money trying to find you and get my painting back. I left finding you to the shifter here.” He nodded my way. “His reputation is well-known. So although he’s expensive, I knew if anyone could find you, it was the shifter. And finding you was the key to finding my painting.”

  Although a client was giving me a nod for my qualifications, something didn’t feel right. Knowing I was the one who brought Layla to face this circumstance left a heavy feeling deep in my gut. For all my rules about staying out of the affairs of clients and just doing my job, I started to feel like the bad guy. Over all these years, I’d justified my services as finding the bad guy—or girl—and bringing them to justice. Yes, most of the time justice was served by another bad guy or girl, but it wasn’t for me to judge. Now for the first time, I was rankled by complicity in the situation. Maybe Layla was innocent. If she was telling the truth, then I brought her into a very messy situation. One she probably wouldn’t have been in without me getting involved. She’d pulled off her cover as Angelica for months. Who’s to say she would ever have been found?

  Stefano continued, “Now that you’re here, I’m sure we can get to the bottom of it in no time. In my experience, torture can get anyone to talk. Some take longer than others. But they all break eventually.”

  “Hey,” I said, stepping in. Although I was breaking my rule on not getting involved in my clients’ affairs—especially vampire affairs—I couldn’t just stand by and listen to him threaten her with torture.

  Stefano looked at me as if noticing me for the first time. “Good work finding her, Mr. St. Clair. I will pay your fee promptly so you can go.”

  “Torturing her isn’t going to help find anything,” I said before I knew what I was doing.

  “Mr. St. Clair,” Stefano spoke to me as if I were a child. “Of course it will.”

  “Why don’t we start with the easy solutions before the messy ones?”

  “What are you proposing?” Stefano asked, as if amused.

  “If she sold a painting, there should be a money trail somewhere. Why don’t we start by looking in her bank account?”

  Stefano squinted as he considered my proposal. “Let’s all go into my study.”

  Chapter Seven

  Layla

  What the hell was Devon doing?

  I walked into the study with Stefano right behind me, waiting for something to happen. Would he strike at me now? Or did he want something from me first?

  His study was filled with a massive mahogany desk with a laptop on it he never really figured out how to use. He was too old-fashioned to understand this wave of technology and often had me log in to websites to check things for him.

  Stefano pointed to a chair in front of his desk.<
br />
  “Log in to your bank account.”

  “No problem,” I said, sitting down. “You’ll see the usual piddly amount that’s always in there.”

  “Don’t talk back to me, Layla. My patience is already worn quite thin with you.”

  I pulled up the chair to the computer desk and opened up a browser on the laptop. Then I entered the URL for my bank and entered my user name and password.

  “What the heck?” I said after reading the message.

  “What is it?” Stefano asked.

  “I can’t get in.”

  “How convenient,” Stefano drawled out. “Perhaps you’ve forgotten your password. Or maybe you’re not entering the correct one for a reason.”

  “No, it’s not that. I know what they are and I entered them exactly. Why wouldn’t I? I have nothing to hide. But look. My account is locked.”

  Stefano leaned forward to read the notification on the screen. “Your account has been locked for security reasons. Contact a customer service representative for more assistance.” He looked at me, eyes blazing red with fury. “What is going on, Layla? What game are you playing?”

  “Stefano, I assure you this isn’t a game. I haven’t logged in to my account since before I left.”

  “Apparently you think I’m stupid. Where else do you keep your money? You must have another account.”

  I shook my head. “Stefano, I don’t know why my account is locked. The only thing I can think of is somebody else has tried to gain access and that’s why they locked it down.”

  Stefano put his fingers on his chin. “Call them. Talk to customer service at once.”

  “I doubt there will be anyone available for me to talk to at this hour, but I’ll try.”

  I used the phone on his desk to place the call and listened to the automated message. “Nobody is available to take my call. I have to wait until the morning.”

  Stefano moved over to me quicker than any human would register and put his hands around my neck. “Where is the painting, Layla? Did you sell it? Tell me now.”

  Although I didn’t need oxygen to breathe, the constriction of the blood vessels to my brain elicited a very human response from me. Panic of not getting any air. Fear of dying. I tried to pry his hands from my neck, but it was useless.