by Kallysten
"Lisa. You need to get dressed. The police want to talk to you."
Immediately, she pushed the pillow off her face and sat up, leaning back on her elbows. The sheet slid off her torso, leaving it bare. She didn't seem to notice. Brett, on the other hand, had to force himself to look away; they didn't have time for that now.
"Talk to me about what?"
The awkwardness of the answer forced Brett to stand and walk over to the dresser so he wouldn't have to meet her eyes.
"There was another murder."
Seconds passed in silence. Brett dared a glance back after slipping on an undershirt, and regretted it when he saw the dark look Lisa was giving him. He was sure she was upset with the situation, not him, but that didn't make being the bearer of bad news any easier.
"And they think I did it? Why would I...” She shook her head and made a low noise that sounded like a growl. “Let's get this over with."
In the time it took Brett to simply slip sweat pants on, Lisa dressed into underwear, leather pants and a shirt, so that next to his frumpy look, she seemed to have spent an hour primping. Even her hair appeared fine, even though she had done nothing more than run her fingers through it. Without waiting for Brett, she stepped out of the bedroom, a barefoot general marching into battle. When he joined her, she was facing the two detectives, arms crossed and standing at her full height. Had she been a cat, she would have been bristling.
Ritter had pulled out a picture and was showing it to Lisa, who made no gesture to take it.
"Do you know this man?"
Despite her body language, Lisa sounded calm when she answered, more cool and composed than Brett would have thought her capable of at that moment. “I danced with him last night."
Behind Ritter, Carson made a note in a small notebook, not looking up to ask: “Anything more?"
From where he stood on the side, Brett could see her look up from the picture and at the badges pinned on the two men's chests. He wondered if her answer would have been different if she had discovered they were regular cops rather than from the vampire department.
"We talked for a while. He let me feed from him. And before you ask, he was alive when I left him."
"Can anyone confirm that? Did anyone see you two part ways?"
For the first time, Lisa hesitated. “I don't know—wait, Leo might have, he was looking at us."
More scribbling was followed by more questions, which Lisa took in stride.
"Who is Leo?"
"The new bartender."
"Where can we find him?"
"Across the hall."
The two detectives exchanged a look at that. Brett came forward to stand at Lisa's shoulder, expecting them to ask more about Leo. Instead, they seemed to backtrack.
"What about night before last, Miss Shetfield? Where were you?"
When he glanced at her, Brett could see a muscle twitching in Lisa's cheek, and he decided to answer before her temper got the best of her. “She was here when I came up from work; she went to dance and I followed her. We came back upstairs and didn't leave again. Lisa wasn't out of my sight for more than five minutes."
As short and unquestionable as he tried to keep his explanation, Brett felt as though each of his words was being weighed and recorded for later scrutiny.
"Anyone to corroborate that?” Ritter asked after a few seconds.
"Leo."
The investigators shared a look that Brett didn't like one bit.
Chapter 7
The music was pounding in Leo's veins, slow and sensual, so loud it obliterated everything else—everything except the hammering of Brett's heart. Leo could not only hear it, but also feel it, a light tattoo against his back where Brett's chest was pressed. He tightened his arm around Lisa, pulling her closer to him. The music and Brett's heart were accelerating, and he wanted to dance faster to go along with them, wanted to—
Leo opened his eyes. He was alone rather than with Lisa and Brett, in his bed rather than on the dance floor of the club, but the beating sound continued until he finally understood someone was at his door and knocking with some unnecessary enthusiasm.
"Comin',” he called out, the word ending on a wide yawn.
Part of him was hoping it might be Brett or Lisa behind the door, but as he approached, he could hear voices now that the knocking had stopped. Stopping down in his tracks, he returned to the bedroom and picked up his pants from the floor. Pants were the extent of his effort at covering himself, however, and he opened the door bare-chested.
Immediately, two men shoved police badges in his face. The badges included the cross that was part of the town's vampire department insignia, a cross small enough that, had he been fully awake, Leo wouldn't have blinked at it twice. But with sleep weighing on his brain still, the cross and the burn it could inflict if it touched him startled him enough that he took an involuntary step back. The men took the opportunity to walk in, and before Leo quite knew what had happened, they were moving about the small loft, looking at everything—even though there wasn't much to look at, seeing how Leo hadn't yet unpacked his travel bag.
"What is going on here?” he asked, dumbfounded.
The answer came from behind him, where Brett was standing on the threshold. It had all been so fast, Leo hadn't noticed him until now, but he certainly was glad to see him there.
"What's going on is that these gentlemen are going to stop right there because they don't have a warrant or the beginning of probable cause, and they wouldn't want to be sued for entering your residence without your consent and performing an illegal search."
The detectives stilled instantly and turned back together toward Leo and Brett.
"My apologies,” the shortest and oldest of the two men said with a smile. “I thought you stepped aside to let us in. I'm detective Ritter; this is detective Carson."
Leo's foggy mind had cleared enough by now that he could realize the smile was as fake as the excuse. He didn't say anything about either, and simply asked, “Anything I can help you with, detectives?"
The tallest man—Carson—pulled out a small notebook and pen. “We could start with your full name."
It was useless to try to dodge the question.
"Leo Balkins."
The information was dutifully recorded.
"Where were you the night before last?"
Leo looked at Brett, wondering how much detail he should give. All Brett did was give him an encouraging nod, which didn't help Leo at all. It was much too early for this.
"I came for an interview, but I arrived too late. I saw my friend Lisa on dance floor and spent the rest of the night catching up with her. And getting to know Brett."
He had tried to make his words as innocuous as possible, but he had a feeling that the detectives knew exactly what he meant—or it might have his own hyper-awareness of what he had done with Brett not that long ago.
"What about last night?"
Ritter's question echoed Leo's thoughts, reinforcing them and sending a rush of wariness through him.
"I was at the bar until two thirty,” he said, trying to keep his voice level.
"And after that?"
Another look at Brett brought forth another nod. This time, the detectives wouldn't need to wonder or guess. Even if Leo kept his answer to the minimum, he would be saying too much to keep their relationship under wraps.
"I was with Brett."
Eyebrows went up. There was even a shared look between the detectives, and the barest hint of a smile pulling at Carson's lips when he asked, “Until when?"
He thought about it. He hadn't actually looked at the time. Usually, knowing if it was day or night was more than enough. “About ... six this morning."
"What about Miss Shetfield?"
It had been so long since Leo had heard Lisa's last name that he needed a few moments before he understood what they meant. Or it might have been that he was so tired still. He had left the apartment not very long after his talk with Lisa. She hadn
't asked him to, but he had been too restless to fall asleep and had preferred to leave rather than letting her see just how affected he had been by their conversation. Even after getting into his bed, he hadn't fallen asleep for a long time.
"Mr. Balkins? Answer the question please. Did you see Miss Shetfield at the bar?"
Leo blinked and came back to the present. “Yes.” They seemed to be waiting for more, so he gave it to them, hoping the entire time that he wasn't getting Lisa into trouble. “She was with a man for a while. She told me to go see Brett after my shift, and she went back to the dance floor."
"Did you see the man leave?"
Leo frowned. “You mean, leave the bar?"
Carson nodded impatiently.
"I wasn't looking for him. I saw him walk out of the booth at the same time as Lisa did, but I don't know what he did after that."
As soon as the last word came out, Leo regretted not having lied. From the corner of his eye, he could see Brett, and the look of disappointment on his face was as clear as it suddenly was in his scent.
"When did you see her again?"
A second was all Leo needed to make up his mind. If he told them she had been back at almost six in the morning, it was giving her three hours unaccounted for after the closing of the club. If she had already given them a time, he could always blame the discrepancy on his distraction at the time.
"She joined us around ... three thirty. Yes, I think it was a little after three thirty."
Leo counted in his head. He had reached seven before the detectives finished conferring silently, and the challenge to his assertion that he had expected did not come.
"Thank you. We will be back if we have more questions."
They walked to the door together, and Ritter started down the stairs while Carson stopped by Brett for a second.
"Please tell Miss Shetfield not to go anywhere."
The relief that had come with their acceptance of the time he had given them disappeared in a flash, and Leo could only wonder if he had helped at all. Still, he never wondered for an instant whether she had done what they suspected her of. And in truth, he didn't care if she had.
* * * *
Once the detectives had left, Brett returned to his apartment to reassure Lisa. She welcomed him with a grim face and open arms.
"They're gone,” Brett said as he returned her hug. “But they don't want you to go anywhere."
She tensed in his arms and pulled away. “They still think I did it?"
"I'm sure it's all just routine,” Brett said, but he didn't believe his own words.
Behind them, Leo walked in through the open door and hid a yawn behind his hand. Brett half turned toward him and found that his eyes were lingering over the taut abs and that thin trail of dark hair disappearing past the low-riding waist of his pants.
"Let me try that again since I didn't get an answer the first time around.” Leo yawned once more. “What's going on?"
When Brett looked up, he could see by Leo's small smile that Leo had caught him staring. He had to clear his throat before explaining what the police had been doing there.
"There was another death. This time it was Lisa's prey from last night. That's why they wanted to know what time she came back."
The smile vanished, replaced by a slight frown as Leo glanced toward Lisa. From the corner of his eye, Brett could see her tilt her head. He looked at her, wondering what was passing between them in that silent exchange. She seemed about to say something, but Leo didn't leave her time to do so as his eyes returned to Brett.
"I've got to say, I didn't think you'd be OK with the cops knowing about us."
Brett and shrugged. “They'd have figured it out eventually, and then they'd have wanted to know why we lied. Plus, it's not like I made my relationship with Lisa a secret. This isn't any different."
Leo's brow furrowed, as though he didn't understand something, but he didn't say anything. Instead, he looked at Lisa, and she answered his unvoiced question with a tight smile.
"Yes, he means it."
This reassurance seemed to trouble Leo even more, although Brett couldn't fathom why. He watched Leo run a hand through his hair, creating more of a mess than there had been before, and wondered what that wary look meant exactly. In the end, Leo shook his head, and looked away as he yawned yet again.
"It's much too early for any of this. I'm going back to bed."
He sounded as though he hoped someone would invite him to stay, but Brett didn't plan to go back to bed, and Lisa's reply was only to tell him they would see him later. His disappointment was obvious, but he nonetheless left with a smile toward both Lisa and Brett, leaving the latter to feel a little guilty. He would make it up to Leo later, he told himself. Right now, he was too much on edge to think of anything that wasn't the club.
His address book was down in the office, but a quick search on his laptop gave him the number of the video surveillance store. The answering machine picked up when Brett dialed the number, and he left a message, putting all the ice and anger he could summon into his voice.
"This is Brett Andrews, again. I want some sort of video installed before tonight. I don't care that it's not the full system, I want something by tonight or I'll find another contractor to do it. And sue you for breach of contract. Try explaining to a judge why you didn't put up the cameras that might have helped save two people."
When he disconnected the call and turned to place the phone back on its cradle, Lisa was right there, so close that he almost bumped into her. She was grinning, and her eyes had a small fire to them that Brett knew quite well.
"I like it when you get aggressive like that. You look sexy."
She slithered against him, resting her hands on his chest in a familiar gesture. Brett smiled.
"It's our club. We've worked too hard to make it work, I'm not going to let some idiotic vamp ruin everything."
She laughed, then kissed him, her lips as light as her laughter, and Brett breathed a little more easily. If she wasn't worried, things would turn out all right.
Chapter 8
It wasn't too difficult for Lisa to convince Brett to come back to bed once he had stopped ranting about the contractor not having installed the cameras yet. The dark circles beneath his eyes made it clear that he hadn't slept enough. They laid down fully clothed in each other's arms, their gentle petting and touching designed more to comfort than arouse. She fell asleep, warm and at peace, the anger roused by the police dissolved into the certitude that everything would be fine.
She woke up to more touching, this time bolder as the sneaky hand slid inside her blouse and bra to find her nipple. Groaning her displeasure at being awakened, she batted Leo's hand away, not needing to look to know who was in bed next to her. Her mind drifted back to when she had seen him last, earlier that morning, and her eyes opened abruptly. Mere inches away from her on the pillow, Leo blinked beneath her hard stare.
"What did you tell the police?"
Instantly, Leo's body language shifted, losing its relaxed pose for a more rigid one. Nevertheless, his voice remained cool when he answered.
"That you were here by three thirty."
She had known he had to have said something of the sort, but she still couldn't help sighing. “Why did you lie?"
Leo snorted. “Because saying you were back at sunrise probably wouldn't have impressed the cops."
Sighing again, Lisa rolled onto her back. A dozen of people might have seen her leave the club a little when it had closed at three.
"I didn't kill that man,” she said after long seconds, but her voice wavered. She had just remembered something her Sire had said, about her blood being every bit as sweet as her prey's. She had still been too caught in his thrall at the time to pay it much attention, but it could only mean one thing.
"I know you didn't. Can you prove it?"
She glanced back at Leo and rolled her eyes at him. “How can I prove I didn't do something?"
"Exactly.” His
tone sounded much too calm, much too reasonable. “So if anyone asks, you were home by three thirty."
Old bitterness Lisa had thought forgotten and gone slowly awakened, and her voice hardened. “I won't lie to Brett."
"He already believes you didn't kill that guy, so what does it matter? Better for him if he doesn't know."
Leo's words were enough to bring the ancient resentment back to the surface, so violently that she had to bite the inside of her mouth to keep from screaming in frustration. She couldn't be this close to Leo. Rolling out of bed, she stood and stalked out of the room. She followed her instincts to the kitchen—to the blood. Unfortunately, Leo followed.
"What's wrong?"
She wished she could ignore him, and she tried to do just that for a while, focusing on the blood package she had pulled out of the fridge, the mug in her hand, and the microwave settings. But Leo repeated his question, shattering her self-control. She turned fast enough that he took a step back, startled.
"You haven't changed a bit,” she spat. “It's been what? Fifteen years? Almost twenty? And you still don't get it. When I'm in a relationship with someone, I need to be able to trust them. I need them to trust me. If Brett can't trust me, if I can't trust him, then what I have with him is no different than what I do down there with my prey."
Leo shook his head, arms crossed in front of him in a defensive posture. “How do you even know it's different in the first place?"
The anger disappeared just as quickly as it had surfaced. She smiled sadly. As much as Leo's blindness infuriated her, she also pitied him for having to ask such a basic thing.
"This, right there ... That's the reason I left you. If it doesn't make any sense to you, I can't teach you. I couldn't back then, and I still can't now."
The look of loss on his face was more than she could stand. She turned back to the microwave and waited for her blood to be ready. When it was, she took the mug with her into the bedroom and closed the door behind her. She hoped Leo wasn't silly enough to try to follow.
