Sam shrugged. “Technically, no. When someone throws something away, puts it on the curb, it’s considered abandoned property, and therefore public domain. Cops don’t need a search warrant to pick up trash bags and go through them, and neither do I.” She ignored the silence that greeted the statement and continued. “It was the logical next move. Without the account information I couldn’t trace the money once it left the United States. I went through everyone else’s trash too,” she added quietly. “There were a few red flags, but nothing yet that I’d want to say. Not without a little more verification.”
“Good work, Sam.” Beth ignored Damien’s snort of disdain. If Damien didn’t knock it off, Beth was going to smack him, suspected Nephilim or not. She kept her attention on Dante, aware they’d need to do something about the unexpected information Sam had uncovered. “We need to talk to Kensington.”
He nodded. “I’ll need to talk to Gabriel, tell him what we found out. Or rather, what you found out and were kind enough to pass on to me,” he said to Sam. “If Kensington is one of the Shem, he hides it very well.”
“Meaning?”
“I haven’t sensed anything around him like I would normally.”
Damien’s scowl turned to a look of concern. “There are only a few types of Shem who could hide from us, Dante.”
“I know, and that worries me.”
“What’s a Shem?”
Sam’s innocent question shocked both men into silence. “Oh, shit.” Damien looked ready to puke. “Nothing you need to concern yourself with.”
Beth patted Sam’s arm. If she was going to try and get Damien and Sam together she’d have to let Sam in on their secret, but she wasn’t going to do it while Dante and Damien were there. She’d fill Sam in on the secret in private. “I’ll explain later.”
“Like hell you will.” Damien glared at Beth.
Beth glared back, crossing her arms over her chest, daring him to do something to stop her.
“Stop it, both of you.” Dante smiled sweetly at Sam. “Did you discover anything else?”
“The property in the Cayman Islands? I did a little more digging, and discovered that the property, while in the name of Jennifer Blake, had a cosigner.”
“And the cosigner was?” Beth asked.
“Todd Blessing.”
Dante whistled soundlessly. “So, now we have a motive for murder. Kensington was blackmailing Blessing about his affair with Blake. Blessing kills Blake to hold on to his political career, but Kensington gets something on him and ups the ante.”
“Which means that—if you’re right—Kensington would be Blessing’s next target. Kill Kensington and you’ve effectively silenced the blackmailer.”
“What if Kensington were the murderer?” Sam asked quietly. “He could be making it appear that Blessing is the bad guy and blackmailing him to keep quiet about it. If the affair came out, Blessing would look like the natural suspect.”
Beth shook her head slowly as she pondered the theory. “It has possibilities, but it’s a bit convoluted. Too easy for the police to figure it out.”
“Just like it’s too easy for the police to place the blame squarely on Blessing?” Dante shook his head in turn. “Sometimes an egg is just an egg.”
Beth grimaced. “Still, sometimes you get a surprise in the egg, like a double yoke.”
“Or a dead baby chicken,” Sam added quietly.
“Thank you for that lovely image.” Damien stood. “Seth and I went through Beth’s apartment, but we didn’t find anything that stood out other than the obvious. There were some prints we lifted, and I’m going to run them through the database to see what we can find.”
“What database?”
Damien shot Sam a look, clearly uncomfortable with telling Beth anything while the blonde was in the room. “Have Dante explain it.” He grabbed his jacket off the arm of the sofa and headed for the front door. “I’m going to get to work on that immediately. I’ll call you the minute I know something.”
“Thanks, Damien. We appreciate it.” Dante slipped his arm around Beth’s shoulders. “Stay safe, my brother.”
Damien smiled. “Stay safe, my brother.” He left quietly, refusing to acknowledge Sam’s quiet goodbye.
Sam bit her lip. “He hates me.”
“He doesn’t hate you. He just doesn’t trust you.” Dante ruffled Sam’s hair. “Give us time. I’m pretty sure Beth plans on fixing that.” He winked at Beth. “Right?”
“Damn straight.” She’d fix what Damien had broken if it was the last thing she did.
“Thank you, Bethie.” Sam’s shy smile was all the payment she needed.
“You’re welcome, Sammie.”
Chapter Fifteen
Dante pulled up in front of Kensington’s home, surprised at the quiet elegance and the high end neighborhood. He would have expected Kensington to live in one of the newer, more modern condos in town, not one of the older, historical homes in the area. It was a family oriented place someone with Dante’s salary would never be able to afford. The row of brick homes and store fronts lined Main Street, standing side by side with free-standing Victorians. Kensington lived in one of the latter.
Dante found a parking spot on the street fairly close to Kensington’s home. “Stay close, and let me do the talking. If he is a Shem, you’ll need to back off if fighting starts.”
“You’re going to go all Johnny Storm in the middle of the day?”
He stopped dead. “You know who Johnny Storm is?”
She made a rude noise. “Pfft. Yeah. He played Captain America. I think every woman in America wanted in his tight, shiny pants.”
He didn’t like the little yearning sigh that followed that, nor the faraway look. “Elizabeth?”
“Mmm. Shiny.”
He muttered something in Italian, growling when she laughed at him. “Very funny.”
“I thought so.”
He started up the steps to Kensington’s front door. Just as he reached for the bell, the door opened. Dante tried to peer into the gloom of Kensington’s home, but he couldn’t see a thing. Not even a hint of Shem stench. “Kensington.”
Kensington appeared startled to see them. “How can I help you, Detective?”
“We have a few questions for you concerning a possible hit and run, and blackmail. Care to talk to us about that?”
Kensington paled. “Hit and run? What the hell?”
Dante grinned savagely. “No question on the blackmail, huh?”
Kensington stared at them for a moment, and Dante tensed. He’d seen that expression in other perps’ eyes before. “Don’t even try—”
He’d said it a moment too late. Kensington slammed the door in their faces. He could hear the man running through to the back of the house, his footsteps fading away.
Dante broke into the front door just in time to see Kensington head out the back. “You take the rear!” He ran swiftly through the house, chasing after Kensington.
The bastard was quick. Dante barely caught sight of him before he was through the alley and into the street. Kensington went sailing past Elizabeth.
“He’s got a gun!”
“Merda.” Dante ran after him, dodging cars left and right, always keeping Kensington in his sight. There were lots of people shopping and dining in this area, even in the cold. Dante shuddered and poured more energy into the pursuit as all of the things that could go wrong went through his head, from hostages to accidental shootings. Dante had to stop him before that happened.
He pulled his own piece, prepared to shoot if necessary. Dante felt his knees jarring against the hard pavement as he threw everything he had into stopping Kensington.
Kensington forced his way through the crowds while Dante was forced to weave his way through, unwilling to hurt
civilians. They raced across another street, Kensington knocking down a little old man in his flight. As Dante gasped for breath and considered going for the car, Elizabeth came flying out of a cross street, tackling Kensington to the ground.
The gun went off, and Dante’s heart stopped right in his chest.
No.
Dante froze, terror keeping his feet rooted to the ground.
No. Not Elizabeth.
His fire filled him, thawing him enough to move. He darted through the milling throng of terrified onlookers, praying with all his might that Kensington was the one who’d taken the bullet.
Not my Elizabeth. Please, God. Not her.
He slowed to a walk as he approached, his heart in his throat. He couldn’t lose Elizabeth. Not now, not ever. He felt the fire within him begin to swell, a volcano ready to erupt, to obliterate the man who tried to kill his mate.
He thought he’d pass out in relief when he heard Elizabeth cursing up a storm. The fires died, the subtle warmth he was used to once more filling him.
She was alive, and that was all that mattered.
Kensington lay on the ground, staring at Dante in horror. “It wasn’t supposed to be loaded, I swear! I’m sorry, so sorry. I only wanted you to back away. I never load it.” The gun lay on the concrete, as Kensington slowly lowered his head into his hands and began to cry.
“Tell it to the judge.” Dante reached for his cuffs, wincing when a sharp pain stopped him cold. “Aw, fuck.” He handed the cuffs over to Elizabeth. “I’m hit.”
Her face went white, but she cuffed Kensington with all the efficiency of an experienced officer. “Sit your ass down, you’re bleeding like a stuck pig. I’ll call nine-one-one.”
Now that he was feeling the pain of the gunshot wound, he was really feeling it. Dizzy, he settled on the curb to wait for the ambulance. “Make sure they send a squad car.” He glared at Kensington as Elizabeth pressed her scarf to his bleeding arm. “He’s assaulted a police officer.”
Kensington only cried harder.
Once the police arrived, Beth gave a brief statement while the paramedics worked on Dante. He could barely hear her, the sound of his own heartbeat was so loud in his ears. The paramedics looked concerned at the large pool of blood that surrounded him.
One of the paramedics shared a concerned look with the other as they started IVs on him. Dante barely felt the pinch of the needle. “Let’s get him loaded.”
He let them help him onto the gurney, cursing. “Elizabeth?”
“Here.”
He blinked. He hadn’t noticed her coming over to the ambulance. How badly was he hurt? “Stay safe.”
She nodded sharply, but he could see the tears sparkling behind her glasses. “I’ll be right behind you, I promise.”
He smiled. “And when Elizabeth Rand gives her word...”
She kissed his cheek. “She keeps it. No matter what.”
They wheeled him into the ambulance, the jerk of the gurney hitting the back of the ambulance making his vision gray out. Or that might have been the blood loss, he wasn’t sure.
He barely remembered the ambulance ride. Only the sound of quiet speech, and the occasional question he was forced to answer. For the first time in a very long time, Dante was frightened. He’d been shot, stabbed, covered in Shem gore, but he’d never come quite so close to passing out. Hell, he could barely feel the wound, but consciousness slipped in and out of his grasp.
When the driver hit the sirens, Dante knew it was bad.
They pulled into the hospital, the EMTs rushing him inside. A swirl of motion around him nearly made him sick. A man in a white coat poked his arm, and Dante wanted to howl. “Sir? Can you tell me what happened?”
He glared at the doctor. “I was shot.”
The doctor turned aside and said something quietly to one of the hovering nurses before turning his attention once more to Dante. “You’ve lost a lot of blood, Detective Zucco.”
“No shit, Sherlock.” Dante grimaced. His voice was slurred.
“Get him ready for surgery.” The surgeon patted his shoulder. “Your family has been contacted.”
“Elizabeth?”
The doctor frowned. “Who’s Elizabeth?”
Dante reached out with his good hand. “Elizabeth Rand. My fiancée. Let her in.”
The doctor nodded. “I’ll inform the front desk that she’s to have access to your room.”
Dante sighed in relief. “Thanks.”
When the darkness covered his sight, the last thought on his mind was Elizabeth’s tearful expression.
* * *
The police—once they were done questioning her—finally allowed her to leave. She’d promised she’d be right behind him, but she’d been forced to renege thanks to a cop who couldn’t seem to understand that she and Dante were working together. She’d refused to play the relationship card, unsure if Dante wanted his coworkers to know about them.
She drove like a woman possessed all the way to the hospital. The bleeding had been bad, the way his pupils had gone wide even worse. All sorts of scenarios were dancing through her mind as she made her way to the front lobby.
What if Kensington had done more damage than she’d thought?
She marched up to the front desk. “I’m looking for Detective Dante Zucco.”
“Name?”
“Elizabeth Rand.”
“One moment.” The woman typed on the keyboard. “He’s in surgery right now, but you’re welcome to go to the waiting room.” The receptionist gave Beth directions from the elevator to the waiting room.
Beth didn’t waste a second, heading straight for the area where she’d get news on Dante. Once there, she found her way blocked by Francesca. “What are you doing here?” Francesca’s gaze blazed with anger. “Don’t you know you’re not wanted?”
Ugh. Wonderful. Beth would get the sister who hated her. She pushed her glasses up, determined to get into that waiting room. There was no way Francesca was keeping her from Dante. “Look, Francesca—”
“Lillian is already here. She’s the one who belongs, not you. Why don’t you go home and wreck someone else’s life?” Francesca turned on her heel and, in a loud voice, told the nurse at the duty station, “Under no circumstances is Ms. Rand allowed into my brother’s room.” With one last venomous look in Beth’s direction, Francesca returned to the waiting area.
Beth kept her mouth shut. As much as she wanted to bitch Francesca out, now was not the time. That would come later, when she was certain Dante was all right.
All of them were there. Teresa, crying, was clutching a rosary in her hand. She fingered the beads, speaking softly in Italian. Russ sat right next to her, rubbing her shoulders and looking grim.
Anna had her children, and was talking quietly on the phone. Francesca, her white lab coat gleaming, was talking to them quietly about her brother’s condition. Beth strained to hear, but Francesca deliberately pitched her voice too low for Beth to get more than one or two words. With a sigh, she flopped into a chair, prepared to wait it out.
Soon, a man in scrubs appeared in the doorway. “Mrs. Zucco?”
“Si.” Teresa rose and shook hands with the doctor. “How is my son, per favore?”
“He pulled through surgery just fine. The bullet nicked the superior ulnar collateral artery, but it missed the ulnar nerve. We extracted the bullet and I expect him to make a full recovery. We’ll be moving him to a room shortly.”
Teresa collapsed against her husband. “Grazie, doctor, grazie.”
“You’re welcome, Mrs. Zucco.”
She waited until the doctor left the room before resuming her rosary. The soft Italian prayer soothed Beth, the words bringing to mind Dante. “Padre nostro, che sei nei cieli, sia santificato il tuo nome, venga il tuo regno, sia fat
ta la tua volontà come in cielo così in terra. Dacci oggi il nostro pane quotidiano, e rimetti a noi i nostri debiti come noi li rimettiamo ai nostri debitori, e non ci indurre in tentazione, ma liberaci dal male. Amen.”
Before long a nurse popped in to inform them that Dante was in a room. “But you have to remember, the detective will be coming off anesthesia, so I’d only go in one or two people at a time, and for no longer than a few minutes at best.”
Teresa stood and placed her rosary in her pocket. “I will go first, then Elizabeth.”
Beth started. She hadn’t realized Teresa even knew she was there. “Thank you.”
Teresa smiled gently before slipping out of the room, her husband right on her heels. Francesca was scowling, but there was little she could do.
Teresa had spoken, and Beth would get to see Dante.
Francesca left the waiting room, possibly to go check on her broom or stir her cauldron. Beth couldn’t care less.
She tried to wait patiently, but damn it. She needed to see that Dante was all right. She was going to have nightmares about the amount of blood he’d lost.
“Elizabeth?” Russ was in the doorway, waving her over.
She stood immediately. “How is he?” She made her way to the door and followed Russ to the room. She could hear the soft voice of Teresa speaking Italian to her son inside.
“Hurting, and slightly out of it.” Russ hugged her before pushing her toward the door. “He’s asking for you.”
“She’s not allowed in, Dad.” Francesca’s clipped, angry voice made Beth want to growl.
“Yes, she is.” Russ turned on his daughter with a scowl.
“I’m the doctor in the family. I say she isn’t.” Francesca smirked at Elizabeth. “Besides, Lillian is waiting to see him.”
“I say Elizabeth is, and that Lillian can wait until hell freezes over.” Russ pointed toward the door. “Go, Elizabeth.”
“Yes, sir.” Elizabeth went. She took a deep breath and headed into Dante’s hospital room. He lay there, his arm swaddled in bandages, the various monitors beeping out their you’re in the hospital song. “Hey, you.”
The Fire Within Page 19
