“I’m well aware of that,” she snapped back. If words could be laced with poison, those would’ve just killed the vampire overlord of New Orleans.
Isadora eased in, her voice tentative. “So what’s the app’s name? Ruben, can you send Jules an invitation to join? And that way maybe we can help narrow down suspects together.” She was using the same voice she used on Emma in the hospital, trying to diffuse the anger-bomb about to explode in the confines of Ruben’s Mercedes.
He veered off of Canal and onto Magazine Street. “It’s called iBite.”
Isadora laughed. Jules didn’t.
Without looking at Jules, Ruben muttered, “I’ll send you an invitation.”
The rest of the car ride was steeped in heavy, burdened, angst-laden silence. And fortunately, most of that was between the two in the front seat.
When Ruben pulled up the Savoie driveway, I told him, “I’ll meet you there.“
He glanced at Isadora and then nodded without comment. Jules was out of the car and storming up the driveaway while Ruben was peeling out into the street before I’d even had a chance to say a word. So when they both disappeared in clouds of fury, I turned to Isadora and smiled.
“It was a pleasure spending time with you tonight, Miss Savoie.”
She was staring off at Ruben’s taillights disappearing down the street, then turned to me and laughed. “You’re such a liar.”
“I’m not,” I protested, smiling at her smiling. I couldn’t help myself.
“I don’t even know what that was, but it was not a pleasurable evening.”
“For me, it was. I enjoyed your company immensely.”
Her smile slipped, and that wariness reappeared in her emerald-green eyes. “You’re going to interrogate that guy now?”
“I am.”
She straightened her spine and tilted up her chin. “I want to go with you.”
Bracing a hand on my hip, I said, “I can relay anything he says. You don’t need to be there.”
Suddenly, her hand shot out and planted on my chest, shocking me still.
“I do need to be there.” Her eyes swam with anxiety and need and compassion all at once. “If you knew what I sensed when I was healing Emma…” Her voice broke and she shook her head, licking her lips.
My attention dropped to her mouth.
“Devraj. Please. I want to be there. I want to help these girls any way I can. I need to. I have to.”
Desperation sang from her fingertips, pushing into me. I covered her dainty hand with my own larger one, pressing it close above my heart, warming it beneath my palm. Her mouth opened on a tiny gasp, staring at our hands on my chest as if she didn’t realize she’d even put it there. I wanted to lean forward and devour her lovely mouth, but that’s not what she needed from me right now. She trembled with a heady combination of despair and desire to help these women. If I could ease her pain, her need, no matter what she wanted, I would.
Gripping the back of her neck, I pulled her to me and pressed her cheek to my chest, then whispered to her temple, “Okay. Don’t worry.” Her hair tickled my cheek. I couldn’t help but press my mouth to the crown of her head with a comforting kiss. “I’ll take you.”
“Thank you,” she murmured, settling her weight against my chest.
We stood there in a silent hug for what might have been one minute. Maybe two. But that small moment filled me with dizzying bliss. Her slender body pressed to mine felt like holding home in my arms. I knew then that there wasn’t anything I wouldn’t do for Isadora Savoie.
It also dawned on me that it was getting harder and harder to fool myself. What I wanted with this beautiful witch was anything but casual.
Chapter 11
~ISADORA~
* * *
Somehow, I wasn’t nervous at all as Devraj led me through the back door of The Green Light. We walked down a hallway where a few offices were, a supply closet, then he stopped at a closed door and punched in a code on a keypad.
The door swung open to reveal a short hallway where one of Ruben’s men—the big, brawny one with a shaved head—sat at a chair next to another door with a keypad.
“Ruben here already?” asked Devraj, his hand on the small of my back as he punched in the other code.
“Him and Gabriel been here for about ten minutes.”
The door clicked open. Devraj took my hand and pulled me in behind him.
Ruben’s icy gaze swiveled from the man who sat in a chair, his hands bound and head bowed, to us as we entered. His frown deepened. “Why is Isadora here?”
“I asked to come,” I piped up. “I want to help if there’s any way I can.”
Ruben made a disgruntled sound deep in his throat as he turned back to the bedraggled looking guy in the chair. “Not sure this is the place for you, Isadora.”
The tall, hawk-eyed vampire named Gabriel stood behind him. His arms rested at his sides, but there was a tension to him that told me he was ready to act if their captor got out of hand. But it was Ruben fisting one hand that warned me this was about to get physical.
“No need.” Devraj gripped Ruben’s shoulder and squeezed then let go. “This is why you brought me here. Remember?”
Normally so calm and congenial, this feral, cold-eyed Ruben sent a shiver down my spine. He cracked his neck and stepped aside to lean back against the wall, crossing his arms, which pulled his dress shirt tight over his lean torso.
The man in the chair finally looked up as Devraj lifted a chair from the wall and set it directly in front of him. Devraj settled facing the guy, his hands on his knees. There was a palpable sizzle of magic pumping into the room. All of it emanating from Devraj.
I stepped aside to the wall to stay out of the way and watch. The vampire in the chair was handsome, of course. All vampires were beautiful. But there was a savage edge to his dark eyes. As he focused on Devraj, who hadn’t said a word, his eyes widened and he gulped hard, fear washing over his face.
“Oh, fuck,” he muttered. “You’re one of them.”
“I am.” Devraj’s arm shot out. He gripped the man by the throat, but he didn’t appear to squeeze. “Tell me your name.”
A pulse of pressure in the room made me suck in a breath. It was the residual magic rippling from Devraj’s target.
“Darren Webber.” No hesitation, but his voice shook.
“What were you doing in Barrel Proof tonight?”
“Hunting for a woman.”
“What did you plan to do with her?”
Darren swallowed hard, squeezing his eyes shut, tears streaking from the corners.
“Do I need to repeat myself?” asked Devraj, his voice rough as rock.
Again, there was an electric snap in the air and a pulse of pressure swirling outward. He was using Stygorn persuasion to get the information. There was no supernatural with the kind of persuasive influence like a Stygorn. Not even an Influencer like my sister Livvy.
“No, no, no,” he muttered, trying to shake his head, but Devraj’s hold on his throat kept him immobile. “We were going to use her for our blood ring.”
“Blood trafficking?” asked Devraj carefully.
“Yes. We get paid twenty-five percent of her sales as a finder’s fee on top of the flat rate he gives us.”
“Who is in charge?”
“Bellingrath.”
Ruben made a subtle movement, straightening from the wall. “Blake Bellingrath?”
Darren gritted his teeth, but Devraj squeezed his throat and apparently pushed more persuasion into him.
“Yes.”
“Tell us how it works from start to finish,” commanded Devraj, his voice rolling hard and deep.
“Brandon, Patrick, and I find the girls.”
“Full names,” interrupted Devraj.
Ruben had his phone out and was typing.
“Brandon Schuller and Patrick Hobbs. We find the kind of girls he wants. Docile. Easy to pick off. When I have the target, I text Brandon and Patrick and th
ey meet to help snatch her.” Tears of frustration streaked down his face, his skin mottled red from the pressure of spilling information he didn’t want to.
“Then what happens?”
“Bellingrath meets us at a different spot each time to pick up the package.”
My stomach rolled with nausea. The package? These women were nothing but cattle to them.
“Where are the women being held?” I asked, desperate to find them and help heal them.
His fevered gaze snapped to me, fury riding him that he couldn’t resist Devraj’s power.
“Answer her,” ordered Devraj.
“I don’t know!” he yelled, squeezing his eyes shut. “Bellingrath doesn’t tell us.” He was heaving giant breaths, his face almost purple. “Please stop,” he begged. “I’ll answer anything. Just stop.”
Devraj dropped his grip from his throat. This guy was totally defeated.
“What else do you know?” asked Ruben, his calm veneer back in place.
He tilted his head back to stare at the ceiling, despair written in every line of his face. “Only what Bellingrath tells us. We each get a round with the girls. Drink off them first then sell them to some party boys he knows before they head out on the town.”
“What a piece of shit you are,” muttered Devraj. “So he sells these girls to his friends for a quick high?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know their names or who they are. Just that they’re willing to pay the fee and keep their mouths shut. We’re supposed to rotate the girls out after a while. To keep them fresh.”
“You mean when they get sick?” I asked.
His petrified gaze met mine. He nodded. “That one chick seemed to get sick fast so we had to let her go first.”
“Emma Thomas,” clarified Ruben.
“Yeah. Her. Bellingrath said she was getting sick. Too weak to handle it.”
I wanted to storm across the room and punch him in the face. Because what woman wouldn’t get sick after being sold for her blood and held captive against her will?
“By release you mean dump in a fucking alley,” Devraj clarified, revulsion in his tone.
Darren squirmed and whimpered. “Dude, we have to do what Bellingrath says. He’s in charge.”
“So he intends to release the others? Not kill them?”
He scoffed in disgust. “We’re not murderers, bro.”
Devraj struck him so fast it made me jump. My pulse pounded against my ribcage at the sudden act of violence. When Devraj spoke, his voice grated with malice.
“You may not be murderers, mother fucker, but you’re kidnapping and terrifying innocent women and selling their blood for profit. You’re violating them.”
Darren shuddered, meeting Devraj’s gaze with nothing but fear in his eyes. A drop of blood dripped from the corner of his mouth.
“I’ll need to do a quick sweep,” he told him before standing and pressing a hand to his skull.
“No, please!” he yelled.
“It won’t hurt,” Devraj said with disgust. “Just be still.”
After one quick minute, he pulled his hand away and gestured for us to leave the room. When I pushed off the wall, Devraj turned to me, keeping his body between mine and Darren. Not that this poor fool planned to do me any harm, but Devraj didn’t seem to care. He put a protective hand on the nape of my neck as he guided me into the hallway.
“What did you see?” asked Ruben as soon as the door was closed.
“No more than what he said. I got a look at the ringleader, Bellingrath. And the drop-off points with the girls. Bellingrath traced away with each girl on his own. Darren doesn’t know where the women are being held.”
Ruben shook his head on a heavy sigh. “Blake Bellingrath. This could be a problem. We need sound evidence.”
Devraj kept his hand on my nape. “His confession isn’t evidence enough?”
“Bellingrath is from an old New Orleans family. Not only that, his father Harold is well-connected politically, both in the human world and the supernatural one. His wife is a witch. Marianne Baxter.” Ruben gave me a meaningful look. “Her sister is Clarissa Baxter.”
“Shit,” Devraj muttered.
“Indeed.”
Clarissa Baxter was the head of the Witch’s Guild over all of the districts in the southeast United States. She was well-respected and a mentor to my sister, Jules.
Devraj maneuvered his body closer to mine, his hand at my neck sliding to my shoulder. “Surely, we could bring him in quietly for a few questions.”
“You know how it works, Dev.” Ruben’s gaze flicked to Devraj’s arm around my shoulder. I blushed, not wanting to dislodge him but also wondering what Ruben might think. Ruben glanced back at the door, scowling. “Dammit! As much as I want to, I can’t just bring that kid in like I normally would. Not without informing the parents of such a family. I’d have the witches on my ass if I tried. Wouldn’t I?” He turned the last question to me. And though his expression was cold and fierce, I knew that look wasn’t for me.
“I’m afraid so,” I admitted. “Questioning him would only tip him off that you’re on his trail anyway. You’ll need to catch them in the act of their next abduction. Having Darren’s testimony isn’t enough.”
“It’s enough for me,” added Devraj, a smirk tilting his mouth up.
I knew people like the Bellingraths. They were the kind I steered clear of. I’d rather be far from the spotlight and live my little life without all the fame and popularity. Which reminded me I was standing next to a man who lived in that kind of world. A pang squeezed inside my chest. Even knowing that, I had to admit a frightening truth to myself. I wanted him.
Glancing up at his chiseled profile, his close-cropped beard shaped nicely around that sensuous mouth. His strength and power was a potent force still resonating in a halo around him, eking from his fingertips, tingling my shoulder.
Yes. No denying it anymore. I wanted him.
“They have huge political connections,” I went on. “They could say Darren’s memory was tampered with by another supernatural. A witch, Influencer, who has a vendetta against the family in the political arena. No.” I shook my head emphatically. “The only way is to catch Bellingrath in the act.”
Smiling down, he gave me a wink. “Smart witch, aren’t you?”
I couldn’t stop staring, wanting to press my palm to my chest and try to force my heart to stop racing. Despite everything I knew about Devraj, and he was nothing like the man I should be with, I couldn’t help but be lured into his magnetic orbit.
“What is it?” he asked, a worried line creasing between his brows.
I shook my head.
“She’s right.” Ruben sidled toward the door to the interrogation room. I had to wonder who else the overlord of the vampires had needed to hold and question in that room. “I need you to give him the order to pretend none of this happened and to let us know the next time they go scouting for the next target. Like Isadora said, our only hope to make this stick is to catch him in the act. Circumstantial evidence and memory reading by a Stygorn won’t hold up against this family.”
Devraj dipped his chin. “Fine. I’ll be back shortly to take care of him. I want to get Isadora home first.”
With that, he ushered me back through the back halls of The Green Light, his hand on my back. We walked in silence back to my house. He’d suggested they take his car, but it was a short walk and I didn’t want to confess my crazy fears of riding in cars.
The streets were busy with nightlife. Friends and couples sashaying down the sidewalk from one restaurant or pub to another. The lightness of the energy fed me somehow, lifting away the anxiety of my recent discovery. That I not only admired Devraj’s glorious face and body, but I admired the man as well.
His level of control during the interrogation and his obvious compassion about helping these young women showed me a side I was too blind to see when I first met him. I’d erroneously categorized him into the materialistic playboy category
when there was much more depth beneath the charming veneer.
“You’re awfully quiet,” he commented as he opened the front gate leading to our porch.
“Just thinking.”
“I gathered that.” He chuckled.
Before I could step up to the porch, he grabbed my hand and pulled me to face him. Those rich mahogany eyes burned, flaming over my cheeks and down my neck then back up to meet my gaze.
“Are you upset?” he asked softly. Sweetly.
“No.” His tender tone made something ache beneath my ribcage.
“You seem so.”
“And you’re an expert on my moods now?”
“I’m an observant man.” His hand slipped from mine to wrap around my neck. “And observing what makes you laugh or frown, what makes your heart beat faster.” His thumb brushed my pulse. “It’s one of my favorite pastimes.” He eased closer, his voice dropping to an intimate caress. He slid his hand at my nape to cup my jaw, his thumb trailing along my bottom lip. “And you tend to fidget with the hem of your skirt when you’re anxious.” His other hand gripped mine where I did indeed have hold of my hem. He laced our fingers together, his broad palm against my smaller one.
Heart drumming like mad, I stared up at him, reveling in the sensuous feel of his thumb sweeping over my mouth. I wasn’t a liar, so I couldn’t tell him I didn’t want that, too.
Afraid to take that plunge, I simply stepped back until his hand dropped away, mourning that tactile loss. “Goodnight, Devraj.”
I shot up the steps and into the house before he could protest, closing the door on the man who twisted my insides into a nest of mangled knots. Unfortunately, I couldn’t help but lean back against the door and press my fingertips to my lips, relishing the trail of heat he left there.
If I was a risk-taker like Violet, free with my affections and wild at heart, I’d take Devraj up on his offer. To get to know each other better. But the truth kept nagging at me. He’s the kind of man I could easily lose my heart to. After this job, he’d be moving on to somewhere else or jet-setting back to Europe or somewhere exotic and beautiful. And I’d be mending my heart in my greenhouse.
Don't Hex and Drive Page 12
