Blood Passage (Blood Destiny #2)

by Connie Suttle

  "Well, that's too bad," I said. "I hope I get to see you again."

  They both gave me cell phone numbers and I gave out my email address. "Don't be afraid to email me," I said. "I like hearing from my friends." We loaded up into the second Cadillac. Dalroy dropped Rhett off about a block away from the other car before making our way to the Marriott. I hugged Rhett, too, before he trotted off to collect the Cadillac. I leaned over and kissed Dalroy on the cheek before getting out in front of the Marriott, and told him thanks. He helped me get the cooler out of the car; this one had wheels and a handle so I dragged it behind me as I walked into the hotel. Winkler had given me room numbers so I carried my bags of clothing, my purse, my laptop and dragged my cooler down to Winkler's suite and knocked on the door. Winkler looked through the peephole before letting me in. Yeah, I didn't blame him a bit.

  "Come on, you'll miss it," he said, nearly dragging me inside his room and closing the door. Weldon was there, glued to the images displayed on Winkler's flat screen television. There was the usual media circus surrounding a residential area, with cameras rolling, journalists talking and all of them being held back by the police. A reporter announced the breaking news with glee: the suspect in the Saint James hotel murders had barricaded himself inside a house and exchanged gunfire with the police. Things were now silent and the authorities were cautiously moving in.

  "That didn't take long," I muttered.

  "Davis said they picked him up earlier," Weldon muttered. Eventually, a body was hauled away from the house. I wondered if Kelvin/Kevin had died before or after he'd arrived in the first place.

  "Were either of you aware that there are werewolf FBI agents?" I had my hands on my hips. Weldon had the good grace to look guilty.

  "You did. I may smack you myself," I snapped.

  My cell phone rang roughly an hour later. It was four in the morning and Winkler and Weldon had gone to bed. I always put my cell on vibrate during that time so they wouldn't be wakened. The call was from Tony.

  I walked into the hall to take it. "What do you want?" I asked. Yeah, I was grumpy.

  "Lissa, I still want to talk to you."

  "Tell me why."

  "What did you mean earlier when you said I was like all the other males, now?" Why was he worried over what I thought? And he knew I was vampire. He ought to let it go.

  "Tony, every male I know is manipulative and controlling," I sighed as I explained. He waited patiently while I'd gone silent, wondering whether I should answer or not. "You joined their ranks tonight. Congratulations."

  "Even Winkler?"

  That deserved a snort. "Even Winkler," I said. I wasn't about to go into detail about that—how Winkler blackmailed me and the Council declared me rogue—all when I was newly made.

  "Renfro said he heard the word fiancé over the phone."

  "Yeah. How about that? Not that the huge diamond on my hand was a giveaway or anything," I grumped.

  "Lissa, I don't know what to think about all this. Do you love this man? Is he a man?" That thought just hit him, I think.

  "Not in the ordinary sense, no," I said. He knew what I meant.

  "Is this someone I might meet, sometime?"

  "No. Not if you want to stay in one piece," I said.

  "Ah."

  "Yeah."

  "Lissa, we could make this work."

  "No. Don't even go there."

  "What if I need your help sometime?"

  "You can try. I'll be honest with you; they keep me on a short leash because I'm young. My kind doesn't get to just run around and do as they please until after they're a certain age. That won't be for a while, yet. Feel free to email me, though, if you have a problem."

  He took my email address. "You're dumping your phone, aren't you?" he asked. "What if I promise not to have it traced?"

  "No deal."

  "Is this just because you don't want me to know where to find you or because of your associates?" He was digging for information.

  "The latter, I assure you. It's safer for both of us that way."

  "They wouldn't harm you."

  "Yes they would. Trust me on that," I said.

  "The other agent tonight, Townsend?" Tony was giving me the vampire agent's name.

  "Yeah?"

  "He said to tell you he was the one who tipped off the Council about the rogue in Florida a few months back."

  "Tell him thanks," I said.

  "You know about that?"

  "Tony, I killed the fucker." There was silence on the other end for a minute.

  "You still there?" he asked finally.

  "Yes."

  "Lissa, why do I have the feeling that you took out the terrorists that attacked Winkler's house in Texas?"

  "You'll have to stew over that one. I admit nothing."

  "You did. I know you did."

  "You'll never hear me admit it. If somebody ever comes and tells me you told them that, I will call you a liar."

  "Lissa."

  "Don't Lissa me, Tony. Even the little bit of information you have could get me killed. You don't have any idea what my life is like. None at all."

  "What happened to the Tate kid?"

  "Same thing that happened to the Miller kid."

  "Did you have anything to do with that?"

  "No."

  "I still want to see you, Lissa. Townsend tried to tell me what a rarity you are. I can't believe that. Is it true?"

  "As true as anything can ever be," I told him. "Stop talking and go to bed, Tony. You have to be tired."

  "I'd feel better if you were here with me."

  "Yeah. I get that a lot," I said. "What would you do with me, Tony? How would you feed me? Deal with my sleeping habits? Keep me safe when I do sleep? How?"

  "Townsend says there are ways."

  "Yeah. Forget about that, Tony. My fiancé doesn't take kindly to advances by others."

  "How did you get engaged to him in the first place? I get the idea that this isn't a love match."

  "Tony, stop digging. We get along okay. Forget it, all right?"

  "Lissa, I had more fun with you on three dates than I've ever had with anyone before and we didn't even sleep together."

  "And that's for the best, I assure you," I said. "There can't ever be a you and me, Tony. Not ever."

  "Lissa, I'm not going to trace your phones. Not officially. But that doesn't mean I might not call you now and then."

  "Then try not to call when my fiancé is around. That could get me pounded."

  "Now I'm worried about you."

  "Don't be. I'm a lot tougher than I look. And tell those schmucks who were with you tonight to stop wearing sunglasses inside a bookstore, for cripe's sake. That's not a giveaway or anything."

  "More than likely they were blinded by the printed word. I don't think they read at all."

  "Go out and hire somebody who reads, then. Are you the boss or not?"

  "Lissa, you should know those aren't the questions we ask in interviews."

  "Yeah? I can hear it now. When's the last time you maimed somebody? Yesterday? Good. How about breaking bones? What's the best way to crack a skull or bust a kneecap? The one who revealed his shoulder holster tonight? That was just showing off."

  Tony laughed. "I haven't asked those questions yet but I'll consider it next time."

  "See that you do. Otherwise you may get an inferior knee-cap buster."

  "You still like me, admit it," Tony teased.

  "Tony, part of me will always like you. I'll always have fond memories of those three dates. You made me laugh when I desperately needed to laugh. That's why I sent Winkler to you in the first place. I thought you'd be the one to take his software and treat him fairly over it. I thought you were a good guy, Tony. Don't make me revise that opinion."

  "Lissa, I will work hard to keep that good opinion you have of me. I won't have your phones traced for the department. But like I said, that won't prevent me from trying to call you from time to time. You could call me, too,
baby. And not just when you need help."

  "Tony, no offense, but I hope I don't need your help again. Ever."

  "Now, is that any way to be?"

  "You weren't the one who had the gun in your face when the police came to make arrests."

  "Someday, you're going to have to tell me how you got out of that."

  "Fat chance. Go to bed, Tony. If you're lucky, you might still get a couple hours sleep."

  "What if I have cracker crumbs in my bed?"

  "Then you deserve to wake up with salty crumbs stuck to your skin," I huffed. "Didn't anybody teach you not to do that?"

  "No, I was raised by wolves," he said. That hit me like a slap in the face. Why hadn't I thought of that before? Why? Werewolves had human mates at times and they produced human children. That didn't keep those human children from knowing what their werewolf parent was.

  "You could have saved me a lot of worry if you'd mentioned that early on," I muttered.

  "See, Lissa, we're not so far-fetched," he said. "That's how I knew about all those things. That's how I convinced the FBI to create an entire department for those races. We need them, Lissa. They can do things the other guys can't."

  "That still doesn't mean we could have anything close to a relationship. I wish I could explain all this to you, Tony, but I can't. Suffice it to say I have a fiancé, and he's not going to let me go. That's that. Good night, Tony."

  "Lissa, I really won't have your phone traced."

  "I'll think about keeping it, then."

  "Good," he sighed. "Should I say pleasant dreams?"

  "You'd be wasting your breath," I said and hung up.

  Chapter 11

  The note I left for Winkler said not to bother with a new phone. He got me one anyway. "How was the sojourn in the pokey?" I asked, ruffling his hair a little after I woke. I handed over the second key to the cooler of blood as I sipped my dinner. I was heading into the bathroom to clean up when Winkler answered.

  "It smelled awful," he said. "Too bad Kelvin's dead; I'd kill him all over again." That was all the local news was talking about—how the police had a standoff with the shooter and killed him.

  "Kevin. Kevin Miller," I stuck my head out the bathroom door to remind him. "And this isn't over yet, I don't think." I wanted to call Merrill—ask him who Saxom was and why his children were going to be a problem. Merrill was as unhappy with that information as I'd ever known him to be. "Did Weldon get a copy of the names that Tony got from the kid?"

  "We got it but it's pretty much the same list that Davis and Glen put together." That statement had me marching right back out of the bathroom.

  "William Wayne Winkler, do you mean to sit there and tell me you guys were already suspecting this idiot and you didn't think to mention it to me?" I was shaking my toothbrush at him.

  "We didn't know what he was doing," Winkler tried to pull me into his arms. He was sitting on the end of his bed, a sad puppy look on his face. "We knew his credentials were bogus but we were waiting to see what the reason was. Besides, you knew he was collecting fingerprints and you didn't tell us."

  "If you'd let me know to begin with I would have, rather than waiting to see what the fuck his problem was." I tossed a hand in the air and headed back toward the bathroom.

  "Lissa, baby, don't be upset." Winkler was in the bathroom right behind me and he managed to get his arms around me and kiss me on the shoulder before I could get away.

  "Winkler, go put two socks on that match," I pointed to his feet. The white tile in the bathroom floor played up the one navy blue sock and one black sock.

  "Well, will you look at that," Winkler grinned at me.

  "Out," I pointed toward the door. "I have to clean up." He went reluctantly.

  The confirmation later was uneventful. Weldon interviewed most of the Wichita Pack and all of them expressed dissatisfaction with Bart Orford; he'd had a heavy hand and didn't like it if anyone expressed an opinion that disagreed with his. He'd killed two Seconds who challenged him because they didn't like his beliefs. The new Packmaster seemed competent and he was nice on top of that. He had a human wife who really was excited to meet me. "I just never met somebody like you before," she gushed. "Don't worry; I know how to keep a secret."

  I desperately hoped she could keep a secret, but I didn't tell her that. We just talked about this or that. She was the one who let it slip that werewolves were possessive in bed. Like I wanted to hear that. "They just wrap you up and if you move, they nip a little," she giggled. As information goes, that was something I could have done without.

  Then, to make my evening complete, Gavin called. Of course, he was furious.

  "Gavin, honey, please speak English," I said after a while. The English that came out of his mouth was still punctuated with cursing—in Italian, I think.

  "Lissa, I truly want to take you over my knee," he shouted. I'd gone back into the hallway so Winkler couldn't hear but he may have heard some of Gavin's rant anyway, it was so loud. "Merrill said he gave you the message that I wanted to hear from you and what do you do? Of course you do not call!" That was followed by another spate of Italian. No, I hadn't called him. I'd sent him email with my new phone number and told him a little of what happened. Of course, that wasn't enough. Merrill and Franklin had both gotten emails, as had Charles. They weren't complaining or cursing in foreign languages.

  The diatribe went on for twenty minutes, at least. I wanted to hang up on him again but thought better of it. When he started cursing in French, I did the next best thing. "Of course, honey," I said when he took a breath. "You're right, sweetie-pants," I said the next time. "Absolutely, booby-kins," I agreed during the following minuscule pause.

  "Lissa, what the hell are you saying?" That was after the booby-kins remark.

  "I'd like to ask you the same thing," I said. "Except that you'd probably answer me in yet another foreign language. Do you know Swahili? Maybe Setswana? That's the language they speak in Botswana. At least that's what I hear."

  "Lissa, why are you so far away from me right now?"

  "I don't know, honey. Am I far away from you?"

  "Yes. I am prevented from telling you where, but I am."

  "Then be careful, all right?"

  "I am always that," he sighed.

  * * *

  Oregon was beautiful. I only wished I could see it in daylight. Yes, I see very well at night but the moon doesn't sparkle on the water like the sun does and the sky looks a deep blue instead of the sunny blue I remembered. And it was raining when we landed, the water running across the tarmac as we taxied to a stop. The little rack squeaked a bit as I collected postcards at a twenty-four hour pharmacy in Portland while Winkler bought shaving cream and shampoo. Weldon was foraging through the snack aisle and loading up a hand basket. I thought about calling Tony and asking him if he was still sleeping in cracker crumbs but thought better of it. He'd take it the wrong way and all I wanted was a non-judgmental friend with whom I could laugh.

  Daryl, Weldon's son was handling some of what Weldon would normally deal with while in North Dakota—disputes over running grounds and the like. Some of the larger cities had more than one Pack, Weldon informed me, and if your Pack was over forty members it was harder to control. Weldon had been on the phone most of the night, helping his real Second with problems that had cropped up. I couldn't blame the Grand Master for having the munchies now; worry always did that to me when I'd been human.

  The cashier didn't bat an eyelash when I handed over at least twenty postcards, all with scenes photographed in daylight. I couldn't take the photographs myself so this was the next best option. We were spending the night in Portland, but the Pack Weldon was scheduled to visit was just outside Tillamook. We'd be driving there the following day with me in my body bag, of course. They were planning to start the drive in the afternoon. Winkler figured I'd wake up somewhere along the way.

  There was a guest laundry inside the hotel after our trip to the pharmacy, although it consisted of two
coin washers and dryers. I gathered up all the laundry and headed down to the second floor of the hotel to put it in. The pharmacy carried laundry soap and dryer sheets, thank goodness.

  The window inside the tiny laundry room allowed me to watch the rain pound the parking lot outside; Winkler's pilots had a little trouble landing the jet at the airport earlier because of the storm. The local news was all about the record snowstorm only two weeks before and now the rains that were currently hitting the Oregon coast. Several rivers were swollen and flood and landslide warnings had been issued. Of course, Tillamook was right in the middle of all that.

  The laundry was all done and nicely folded, waiting to be packed into suitcases when Winkler got up and I slipped into his bed. Winkler appreciates clean clothes as well as anyone—he just doesn't like the process of getting them clean. He gave me a warm kiss when I crawled in bed to lie down, and he covered me up before I passed out with the sun's rising.

  * * *

  "They're evacuating parts of the area because of the flooding," the desk clerk informed Winkler later as he checked out. Weldon was outside, watching the bellman load up the luggage into the rented SUV, including Lissa's bag. Weldon just shook his head as the man tossed her bag right in on top of the other luggage.

  "We may have to change hotels when we get there," Winkler grumbled, folding up the printed receipt the desk clerk had given him. "There's a lot of flooding in the area."

  "No surprise," Weldon nodded, climbing in on the passenger side. Winkler was driving the first leg. "Is the rain supposed to let up at all?" Weldon leaned over so he could look out his window at the heavy gray clouds overhead.

  "Doesn't look like it; the weather service says it may clear in a day or two."

  "The run is going to be a wet one, then."

  "Yeah."

  The full moon would occur their second night in Tillamook, the dinner the third night and the confirmation would be held the fourth night. There was also a wedding scheduled and they'd waited until the Grand Master could perform the werewolf portion; a local clergyman had already done the normal ceremony. Weldon hoped the weather would clear up for that at least.