by Rose Wulf
“Talk,” Jasen’s familiar, even tone greeted a ring and a half later.
Seth hesitated only a beat before replying, “It’s Hunter. Things have gotten worse and I can’t afford to let this drag out much longer.”
“Are you asking for my help?” Jasen asked, the faintest influx of teasing in his voice now.
“Yes,” Seth confirmed abruptly. “Two casualties so far: one vamp—our informant—and one human. And a couple of days ago I ran across a Slayer.”
The almost humor was gone from Jasen’s voice when he spoke again, saying, “Fun. The informant I get, but why’d they go after a human?”
The hesitation returned, but Seth did his best not to let it show. Life would be easier if Jasen didn’t know, at least not yet, about his connection to Veronica. “A human woman was actually the one who identified the traitors. They targeted her, but she escaped. The victim was a friend of hers.”
Jasen was quiet for a second before he said, “You can give me the details when I get there. I’m finishing something up here, then I’ll catch a plane.”
Seth didn’t bother thanking him before pulling the phone from his ear and disconnecting. His stomach was twisted with unease over calling Jasen for reinforcements, but he knew it had to be done. He just hoped that Jasen would be in a reasonable mood when he arrived.
****
It was Friday morning already and, other than a few police, the only people Veronica had talked to since Mandy’s death were Allison, Seth, and her boss. She’d received an email the day before from Mandy’s parents telling her that they were sorry she’d had to see her like that and that they’d let her know when the funeral was. Seth had stayed until well after sunrise the first night, and he’d been over several times since. It was touching to know he cared and that he wanted to help, but she was starting to worry that taking care of her was hurting his investigation. Not that he would admit to it.
Since her boss had insisted that she not set foot in the coffee shop before Saturday Veronica was curled up on her couch, still dressed in her pajamas, when someone knocked on her door at shortly before eleven. She’d been attempting to lose herself in one of her favorite romantic comedies and she jumped half a foot at the unexpected sound. Who would be coming over? Allison or Seth would have called first. Uncertain, she reached over and paused the movie, wondering if they would knock again.
They did.
Okay, Veronica, calm down. So someone was knocking at her door. That wasn’t the end of the world. Releasing a breath, she pushed to her feet, tugged the throw blanket she’d been under around her shoulders, and started toward the door. She hoped it wouldn’t be someone she knew, because her hair was a mess. But at least the bruises around her neck were finally gone. She reached the door and tilted her head in order to see out the peephole, and her eyes widened at the sight of the familiar, faded blonde hair and somber face on the other side.
“Mom?” she asked as she pulled the door open. She wasn’t even sure what else to say: her mother almost never came to her house. And certainly not without calling ahead.
Carol Wyndham offered her a small, sad smile and stepped up, not speaking until she’d wrapped Veronica in a hug. “Oh, sweetheart, I’m so sorry about your friend.”
“You…heard?” Veronica found herself asking. It seemed like an odd question and she felt guilty for not having called and talked to her mother in the past several days. She just hadn’t wanted to go over everything again.
“Of course I heard,” Carol said gently. “And I assumed you weren’t working today, so I thought I’d just come over. Is that okay?” She released Veronica at that point, stepping only slightly back but keeping Veronica’s hands in hers. “If you’d rather I come by later, I would understand.”
Veronica swallowed and shook her head. “No, today’s good.” She stepped backwards, her mother releasing one hand, and gestured with her now-freed hand as she added, “Come in.”
As she stepped inside Carol declared, “Now, just so you know, I didn’t come here so that you could rehash those terrible details. I just want to know how I can help, and if you’d like some company for whatever you’re doing.”
With a glance toward the living room—which, fortunately, wasn’t so bad—Veronica replied, “I would love some company. We’re watching movies, and when we get hungry we’re ordering pizza. I’ve got drinks in the fridge, though.”
“That sounds like fun,” Carol stated with a nod. She didn’t cringe at the idea of an entire day of unproductive laziness, but instead she started toward the couch calmly.
Veronica followed her mother, a smile tugging at her lips. She hadn’t expected her mother to be uncaring by any means, but she would never have expected her mother to behave like this. Since her husband’s death Carol had slowly begun pushing everyone away, with the exception of her daughter, and when Veronica had finished high school she’d seen some of the same signs. They’d grown apart in so many ways, despite all of the things that bound them.
But, today, that all felt like a bad dream. Veronica sat back on the couch, beside her mother, and rested her head on Carol’s shoulder. Carol covered Veronica’s clasped hands with her own, even giving them a squeeze as she told the movie to resume. They sat in comfortable silence, even laughing quietly at some of the better moments, until the movie was done.
Carol was shifting, preparing to get up to switch DVDs for their next movie, when Veronica heard her own voice fill the air. “Does changing the furniture around so often help you not miss Dad as much?”
She regretted the question as soon as it was past her lips. Yes, she had always wondered about the psychology behind her mother’s furniture-shifting obsession, but she had never truly broached the subject. Any time she ever came close, her mother shut down the conversation, and that was something she really didn’t want to cause in that moment. “I’m so—”
“No,” Carol replied quietly, leaning back into the couch. “Not really, at least, not anymore. I don’t think it ever did.”
Eyes wide, Veronica lifted her head from her mother’s shoulder and studied her profile. Carol’s head was tilted up, eyes on the ceiling, but her expression was calm.
“The truth is,” Carol continued, “I hate that furniture. I hate that house. I even sort of hate this city.”
“Then why don’t you move?” Veronica asked carefully. She wanted to keep her mother talking, but she also wanted her to know that she was listening. She’d never heard her mother speak so honestly.
Carol sighed and said, “I can’t.” She lifted her head and turned a sad smile to Veronica, adding, “Barely a week before he was killed, your father came up to me out of the blue and asked if I had ever considered moving. He said he’d heard about a new, higher-paying position with a different branch of the company that he was qualified for, but we’d have had to leave the state.”
Veronica stared at her mother silently, riveted to the words falling from her lips. She had never heard this story before.
With a shake of her head, Carol continued, “I said no. I told him that we had too good a thing here to just walk away, and that you wouldn’t be happy having to leave all of your friends behind. He pushed, for reasons I’ve never understood, and we argued for the first time in years. But I refused to move. ‘We have everything we need right here in this city,’ I’d said. So now I have to stay, because I told him that that was what I wanted.”
“Mom,” Veronica mumbled, her eyes burning. Her mother hadn’t talked that much about her father since she’d graduated high school, when they’d ended up crying over how desperately they wished he could have been there. She shoved her tears aside and leaned forward, wrapping her mother in a hug. “I love you.”
Carol held her close, her voice still sad, and replied, “I wish there was more I could do to help, Veronica. But I really am right here, though I know I haven’t always shown it.”
It was a long minute before they sat back, Veronica wiping at her eyes, and with a smile she asked, “Would y
ou be up for going out for dinner tonight instead?”
Chapter Eight
Sunday saw Veronica’s successful return to work, where both of her coworkers for the morning—Nikki and Jake—gave her big hugs along with a pick-me-up mocha. And, right at ten-fifteen, the bells over the door jingled as Seth stepped inside. There was one customer ahead of him, but she was already handing over the necessary money and then it was Seth’s turn. Veronica hadn’t seen him since early the day before and her smile was automatic when she looked up, into his sunglasses. “Good morning,” she offered. She was well aware that her tone wasn’t so much professional as personal.
His lips lifted softly and he replied, “Good morning. I see you made it in today.”
She nodded unnecessarily and said, “I missed nearly a week. I was starting to feel guilty.”
“That’s understandable,” Seth agreed, the bells jingling again behind him. His lips fell into a neutral line and he added, “I suppose I should place my order.”
Still smiling faintly, Veronica asked, “Are you mixing things up today?”
“Nope,” Seth replied, another faint lip-twitch lighting his face. He held out the money as she typed it in and, with a final nod, turned and made his way toward the pickup shelf.
Veronica deposited his change in the jar for him as she turned her attention to the next customer, wondering in the back of her head why they had to suddenly have a steady flow of customers when Seth showed up. The bells signaled another arrival before her current customer was done and she knew she wouldn’t get to talk to him again until after her shift at best. The teenager in front of her stepped away then, and Veronica’s eyes landed on one of the last people she wanted to see. Cliff.
Barely biting back the groan of irritation, Veronica mustered up another professional smile and said, “Good morning.” The difference between her greetings, though the words were the same, was glaring even to her own ears. She almost felt bad.
“Veronica! Good morning,” Cliff replied exuberantly, a wide smile splitting his face. “I hadn’t seen you in for the past few days and I was starting to worry I’d chased you off!” He sobered, then, his voice lowering as his smile faded, and he added, “Then I heard about your friend. I’m so sorry. I know that must be terrible. How are you doing?”
Why me? It was a stupid thing to think, she supposed, but it slipped into her mind before she could stop it. She really wasn’t in the mood to have to pretend to like him. Letting the fake smile fall away, Veronica looked down and replied, “I’m coping, thank you. What can I get you?”
Cliff quickly placed his order, barely waiting for Veronica to nod in confirmation before returning to the conversation. “I’ve never actually lost someone, so I won’t pretend to understand how you’re feeling, but have you had enough help? I mean, I’m sure you haven’t felt a lot like cooking, but you have been eating, right?”
It took a genuine effort not to let herself glare at him. Maybe his heart was in the right place (though, at the moment, she was having difficulty even believing that), but common sense ought to have been enough to tell him to drop it. “Yes, I’ve been eating.” And then she quoted him the price for his drink, not bothering to comment on the rest of what he’d said and hoping he’d take the hint the second time around.
As he dug through his pocket, extracting his wallet, Cliff replied, “That’s good. And, hey, if you’re tired after work tonight I’d be happy to make dinner for you. Do you have my number yet? Let me give it to you and you can just call me when you’re off so we can work something out.”
Veronica was speechless for a long second, barely even managing to take his credit card when he held it out to her. Did he really just ask me out? Did the man even know the meaning of tact? And, oh god, he was pulling an obviously-worn business card out of his wallet.
Without warning Seth was leaning in, ever-so-slightly invading Cliff’s personal space, and offering an insincere, “Excuse me,” to him as he looked toward Veronica. When their eyes met (or, more accurately, when her eyes met his sunglasses), he asked, “I have to run, but you still wanted me to pick you up after work, right?”
“Yes,” Veronica said, hoping it hadn’t been obvious how quickly she’d jumped on his offer as her head bobbled up and down. “Please,” she added for effect.
He nodded sharply, stepped back, and called, “See you soon,” as he strode away. There was no way he didn’t know that at least half of the occupants in the room had noticed their exchange. But that clearly wasn’t bothering him.
Cliff was staring, visibly dumbfounded, after Seth’s retreating figure as someone else stepped into line behind him. Veronica used this opportunity to call Cliff’s attention long enough to return his card and hand him his receipt as she said, “I already have plans, actually. And I need to help the next customer. Your drink should be up soon.”
“You didn’t actually have to pick me up,” Veronica said with a contradictorily grateful smile as she slid into the passenger seat of Seth’s Corvette.
Seth arched a dark brow at her over his sunglasses and asked, “How would you have gotten home? I noticed you didn’t drive here.”
Shrugging, Veronica replied, “Cab, probably. It’s how I got here.”
The frown on Seth’s face told her all she needed to know about his opinion of that idea.
Deciding to change the subject instead of explaining that she didn’t yet have a new license, Veronica said, “Thank you for earlier, by the way.”
“You’re welcome,” Seth replied as he eased into traffic. “Did it help?”
“As a matter of fact, it did,” Veronica declared with a smile. “He didn’t say another word to me. Now if only it’ll stay that way.”
“Does he harass you often?” Seth asked, his face a careful study in neutral.
Veronica hesitated, wondering how best to answer that question. She almost suspected the answer would be ‘yes’ if she’d actually been at work the previous week, but she wasn’t entirely sure it truly qualified as harassment. He was just…insistent. At length, she replied, “I can’t go that far, no. This wasn’t the first time he caught me at work, but since I missed most of the week…. I only actually met him about a week ago.”
Come to think of it, she realized as the words fell from her lips, it was the same day I officially met Seth. That seemed incredibly bizarre to her. She felt like she’d known Seth for years now. She was just so comfortable around him, and she trusted him so instinctively that it didn’t seem plausible to her that she could only have known him since the Saturday before last. Cliff, on the other hand, she had no trouble believing she’d only met a week before.
“Interesting,” Seth murmured, dragging her out of her unexpected comparison. He said nothing else on the subject, both eyes at least apparently focused on the road ahead.
Veronica was wondering what to make of his response—and trying not to make it obvious that she was studying his profile—when a violent buzzing from his pocket drew her attention. It wasn’t until that moment that she realized he had a Bluetooth in his ear.
A moment after tapping the small, half-hidden device in his ear, Seth said, “Hunter.”
There was something very attractive about the way he answered the phone. Then again, she was quickly coming to realize that there wasn’t much about him that was unattractive. And one of the very few things she’d known about him before their official meeting was that she loved the deep, raw masculinity of his voice.
Frustration darkened the expression on his face and tension tightened his grip on the steering wheel before he said, “I’ll look into it. Don’t send anyone else out there.”
Veronica wasn’t sure she’d ever realized just how nosy she was until that moment, but as she watched him end the call she found she really wanted to know what was going on. And telling herself that it was none of her business didn’t seem to be helping. Besides, what if it sort of is my business? It could have been about Richards. If it had been about Richards, in
fact, she felt she deserved to know. Though she’d never considered herself a violent person, and she’d never honestly wished ill on another living being, she found the idea of him suffering physical pain for what he’d done didn’t upset her at all. It was safe to say that she quite thoroughly hated Gregory Richards.
“I’ll have to go as soon as I drop you off,” Seth declared after a beat.
With a faint nod, Veronica opened her mouth, intending to say something agreeable and non-nosy, but what came out of her mouth was, “Was that about Richards?”
He hesitated and Veronica knew the answer before he reluctantly admitted, “Yes.” From his tone and the tightening of his grip on the steering wheel she suspected he knew why she had asked, but, to his credit, he didn’t say anything more.
Letting her gaze drift forward again, Veronica said, “Take me with you.”
“Veronica,” Seth began, his tone making it apparent that he disagreed with the idea.
“I can imagine what you’re going to say,” Veronica interrupted, keeping her voice calm and her eyes forward. “But I’m a part of this now whether we like it or not. I know he’s dangerous; I know he’s stronger than me; none of that matters. I’m not saying I want to pick a fight with him. I just need to be there when he goes down.”
He seemed to mull her words over for a moment before he said, “You need to realize that it’s not my place to bring him down. I can only bring him in.”
They were approaching the turn to her street. Soon she would know his decision. “‘Down’ doesn’t have to mean ‘dead’,” Veronica replied. “I just want him to get whatever’s coming to him.”
Silence was heavy in the air for several seconds and the intersection was nearly upon them before Seth released an audible sigh and angled the car into the right turn-lane. Veronica’s house was on the left. He turned without a word, resignation and displeasure radiating off of him even as he swung another right a block later.
Relief eased the tension that had begun building inside her and Veronica dared to sneak a sideways glance up at him as she offered, “Thank you.”
