by Lynsay Sands
Jackie shook her head. Who cared if the teapot was white plastic, the cappuccino machine was chrome, or the vegetable steamer was blue? Vincent did. He wanted everything black and chrome to match.
Sighing impatiently, she shifted her feet as Vincent handed over his credit card.
“The man at the house is called Tiny. If the gate is closed and locked and you have to buzz, just tell him it’s a delivery authorized by Jackie,” Vincent instructed.
“I’ll call him to warn him it’s on the way,” Jackie said impatiently. “Can we go now?”
“Don’t mind her,” Vincent advised the manager. “She just flew in from New York. You know how New Yorkers can be.”
“Oh…Yes.” The manager nodded solemnly, looking—for all the world—as if he wanted to offer Vincent his sympathies for having to deal with her.
Finding the whole matter beyond exasperating, Jackie turned on her heel and headed for the automatic doors.
“Come again!” the manager called cheerfully as Vincent followed.
“We are not doing this at the grocery store,” Jackie said grimly as she started the engine of the rental car. “We are not going to buy out the grocery store. You’re a vampire, you’re not supposed to eat.”
“And you’re a woman. You’re supposed to like shopping,” he responded mildly. “I guess things aren’t always what they seem, are they?”
In her impatience, Jackie managed to stall the car. Feeling her face go red with embarrassment, she ground her teeth together and restarted the engine. Pausing then, she took a deep steadying breath.
“Must be jet lag,” she muttered under her breath as she pulled out of the parking spot.
“No doubt,” Vincent said agreeably.
“Are you always this damned cheerful?” she asked with irritation.
“Mostly always,” he assured her with a grin.
Jackie blew her breath out on a sigh. “You’re nothing like Bastien. He’s…”
“Serious? Sober? Solemn? And all those other S’s?” Vincent suggested with amusement.
“Grown up,” she said dryly.
“He’s a businessman. I’m an actor,” Vincent pointed out as if that said it all.
Jackie frowned. She’d forgotten, but he was also a businessman, with his own company. It made her wonder how much of his cheerful, easygoing behavior was for show.
“Do you have Tiny’s list?” Vincent asked as they walked into the grocery store ten minutes later.
Jackie reached into her pocket and pulled out the scrap of paper Tiny had handed her on the way out the door. She unfolded it, read the single word at the top, blinked and then burst out laughing.
Curious, Vincent took the list from her. He smiled faintly. “Well, you did tell him to write everything on it.”
“Yes,” Jackie agreed with a sigh, acknowledging to herself that they weren’t going to get in and out quickly here either. They did need everything; Vincent’s home didn’t even have the staples, like salt and pepper.
“Here.” Vincent reached into his pocket and pulled out some money. Handing it to her, he gestured to the end of the store. “Why don’t you go pick up a couple of drinks for us and I’ll start the shopping?”
Jackie followed his gesture to the coffee shop sign at the end of the store and nodded with relief. A dose of caffeine would make it all bearable. “How do you take your coffee?”
Vincent blinked at the question. “Regular?”
Jackie arched her eyebrows. His answer told her that he didn’t normally drink coffee. However, since he was giving her a reprieve from shopping, she let it go and merely headed for the coffee shop.
Ten minutes later she’d downed half her cappuccino and felt about a hundred times better. She didn’t even mind that Vincent seemed to want to look at everything on the shelves. The man was practically salivating as he looked at the pictures of the food on the cans and boxes. His reactions made her think she had to be right and he didn’t normally eat as she’d suspected.
Unfortunately, when she said as much, Vincent just shrugged and said the restaurants he went to didn’t serve things like this. Jackie was sufficiently mellowed by her caffeine boost to let the matter go for now, but she still was sure he didn’t eat.
The kitchen purchases had arrived at the house and Tiny had put most of them away by the time they returned. That still left the groceries. Jackie and Vincent helped the giant put them away before she fetched her briefcase and set it on the table.
Retrieving a notepad and pen, she closed and set the briefcase on the floor, then sat down and glanced toward the two men. Vincent and Tiny were trying to figure out how to work the ice cream maker…without bothering to read the instructions, Jackie noticed, and bit back a smile. It was so typically male one could almost forget the man was a vampire.
The thought made her frown. The last thing Jackie wanted to do was forget that. He was attractive and charming and…a vampire. She had to keep the last part in mind and ignore the rest. It was for her own good.
Mouth tightening, Jackie watched the two men for another minute, then said, “Vincent?”
“Yes?” He glanced over in question.
“Bastien gave me a very brief rundown of what was happening here, but as you know, it wasn’t much.” She was too tired to bother to hide her dissatisfaction. “Tiny and I need to go over it with you to learn everything.”
“Work time,” Tiny said with regret, setting the ice cream machine aside. “You two go on. I’ll make coffee and start dinner. I can listen while I work. Jackie will feel better once she’s eaten. She’s always grouchy when her sugar’s low.”
Jackie set her teeth at the comment. She wasn’t being grouchy. All things considered, she thought she was reacting remarkably well. It was after seven o’clock at night, for heaven’s sake. She’d spent the better part of the day in airports and planes, eating rotten food and drinking worse coffee, then arrived here to go shopping. She…Okay, so supper would be good.
“I’ll make something quick.” Tiny moved to the refrigerator.
Smiling, Vincent moved to join her, his gaze moving curiously from the pen she held to the notepad on the table.
Jackie resisted the urge to cover her notes and cleared her throat. “As I mentioned, from what Bastien said, I understood that you had decided to close down the plays because of the sabotage attempts.”
“Yes and no. None of them are running right now, and I did sort of close them down, at least temporarily, but it wasn’t all at once, and it certainly wasn’t my choice,” he muttered unhappily as he took the seat across from her, then explained, “One by one I had to delay the openings of each play scheduled to begin, and temporarily shut down plays that were already open.”
“Why? Bastien mentioned accidents and minor catastrophes.”
“Yes.” Vincent ran a hand wearily through his hair as he thought of the events that had taken place over the last several weeks. “We’ve had two plays suffer minor fires, an accident where paint got spilled over every single costume for another play—”
“Slow down, slow down,” Jackie said with a frown. She’d started to try to take notes as he spoke, but he was going too quickly and she couldn’t keep up. “Perhaps we should go over the events one at a time and in order. What was the first incident that you think is tied into all this?”
“That was here in L.A. A can of paint got knocked off a shelf in the costume department and splashed over every costume in the room.” His mouth tightened. “No one knows how the paint got there, or why the lid was off, or who knocked it over.”
Jackie considered the matter, thinking that it could have been an accident.
“The next accident was a fire in one of the theatres in Canada,” Vincent continued. “It was a small fire. The theatre itself didn’t sustain much damage, but our stage set was ruined. It, too, seemed to be an accident at the time, a cigarette in a garbage can. It wasn’t until the other stuff started happening that I thought perhaps those two inci
dents hadn’t just been random accidents.”
When Jackie merely nodded, he continued, “Next, there was another fire, this one here in Los Angeles. It was a bigger fire than the one in Canada.”
Jackie arched an eyebrow. “Was anyone hurt?”
“No, fortunately the building was empty at the time, but the fire destroyed the theatre entirely, taking our costumes and sets with it,” Vincent said grimly.
Jackie made another note on her notepad.
“The next event was at the second play in Canada. I was told a cable broke loose and a part of the stage set fell on the female lead.” Vincent grimaced. “She broke her arm. I had to replace her.”
Jackie frowned and made another note, then put an asterisk beside it.
“Then the male lead of another play here in Los Angeles fell down a set of stairs and broke his leg. I was still thinking it was just a run of bad luck,” Vincent admitted with a grimace and shook his head. “Dan Henson, the actor, claimed someone had pushed him, but I didn’t believe him until later.”
“Why?” she asked.
“He was a drinker and drunk at the time.” Vincent shrugged. “I thought it was just—”
“An accident,” Jackie finished for him dryly. “When did you start to realize these accidents might not be accidents?”
“When the cast of the New York play I was in started dropping out sick one right after the other with contagious anemia.”
Jackie stared at him with disbelief. “Contagious anemia?”
“Yes.” He gave a short laugh. “I think my family thought I’d fed myself out of a show.”
“Did you?” Jackie asked.
Vincent stiffened, then turned a cold look her way. “No. I don’t feed off my cast and crew. In fact, I don’t feed off people I know or employees. Usually,” he added dryly, as if he might be willing to make an exception in her case.
Jackie shrugged. She’d had to ask. “So, your cast started falling ill with anemia and you shut down the show and flew back here to California.”
“I didn’t have a choice. You need a cast to have a play.” Vincent shrugged and then added with regret, “I hated to do it, though. It would have been a big hit.”
Jackie stared at him doubtfully. “I believe Bastien said the play in New York was called Dracula, The Musical?”
“Yeah.” He sighed. “It was good. The next Rocky Horror Picture Show.”
“Right,” Jackie didn’t bother to hide her doubt. “What happened to make you close down all the plays? Was it just the combination of accidents?”
Vincent grimaced, then reluctantly admitted, “I’m ashamed to say it, but no. I’ve been in the business a long time, these things happen. Not usually one right after the other or anything, but I know how to deal with these sorts of events and we handled each emergency as it arose.”
“Then what made you close them all down?”
Vincent frowned, and began to fiddle with the corner of her notepad. “The actors and actresses made me close them down. In each play at least one, or sometimes two, actors or actresses and their understudies have suddenly quit, or walked off stage. They’ve all been leads. We had to scramble to replace them and delay openings, or temporarily close shows to allow the replacements to learn their roles.”
Jackie considered this briefly and then asked, “How many plays have been affected by actors or actresses walking off?”
“All of them. Two in New York. Two here in California. And two in Canada.”
“Six,” she said with a frown. “And the lead actor or actress has suddenly quit from each of them?”
“Yes.”
“Are they under contract?”
“Yes.”
Jackie’s frown deepened. “I presume these contracts have some sort of legal provisos, or recourse, to prevent their just walking out?”
“Oh yes,” he said with a harsh laugh. “I could sue every one of them into poverty for the rest of their lives, but none of them seems to care. Not that it matters, suing them doesn’t help me get the plays up and running in the meantime.”
“And now one of the replacements—as well as her understudy—have walked as well?” Jackie murmured, thinking of the phone call he’d received earlier.
“Yes. It was one of the two here in California and was the first of the six that was scheduled to reopen. The replacement actress and her understudy quit this morning,” he said grimly.
“Hmm…I don’t suppose it could be a coincidence?”
“No,” Vincent hissed the word through gritted teeth and then added, “I’ve been in the business for four hundred years. Having one play close down because an actor and understudy have walked out is rare enough, but having six at once?” He shook his head. “Definitely not a coincidence. Someone is out to ruin me.”
Jackie bit her lip, watching her hand doodle nonsense on the pad as she thought. Finally, she glanced up and said, “I gather you’ve tried to read their minds? To see what was making them drop out?”
“Their minds were blank on the subject. They just knew they had to quit.”
“They were wiped, you mean,” she said dryly. “Which means your saboteur is another vamp…or at least someone with a vampire for backup. Although I suppose the contagious anemia made that obvious.”
Vincent nodded grimly. Somehow, the fact that one of his own kind was behind the sabotage made it seem that much worse than it would have been were it a mortal.
Jackie sat back in her seat with a sigh. She considered the escalation in events. Accidents to property, then arson, then accidents to people, then outright feeding on people, and now controlling them and making them quit. It sounded as though the incidents were quickly picking up speed and momentum.
“How much time was there between the fire and the stage set accident where your actress broke her arm?”
“A week,” Vincent answered, his expression curious.
“And between the stage set accident and the male second lead being pushed down the stairs?”
He paused to consider. “About five days.”
“And then between that and the first person falling ill with this anemia?”
“Three or four days, maybe, but then they started dropping like flies, one after the other.”
Jackie nodded and made another note.
“They got closer together as each incident occurred,” Vincent realized.
Jackie met his gaze. “And more serious.”
“From property, to injury,” Vincent realized, following her thinking.
“Yes.” Jackie agreed, then stood and walked out of the kitchen. She sensed rather than heard Vincent follow her. The man moved as quietly as a shadow.
She found Allen Richmond in the living room, overseeing the work being done on the windows and doors there.
“How long until you’ll be done?” Jackie asked abruptly as she paused at the security man’s side.
“Most of it will be finished tonight. The ground floor anyway. We’ll have to come back tomorrow to finish the upper floor,” he answered promptly.
Jackie nodded. “And the gate?”
“Already done,” he assured her.
“Is it closed and locked?”
Allen Richmond paused, his eyes narrowing on her face, obviously picking up on the fact that these weren’t just idle questions. “I had it left open so the men could come and go. I’ll have it closed at once.”
Satisfied, Jackie turned and led Vincent out of the room just as Tiny opened the kitchen door and peered at them.
“Supper’s ready,” the giant announced.
Nodding, Jackie managed not to run up the hall. She was absolutely famished and was terribly glad Tiny could cook. He’d started working for her father the same summer she had and her dad had put the two of them together from the start. Most people thought Tiny’s size had been the deciding factor and Ted Morrisey had hoped the giant would keep his daughter safe. But Jackie knew that wasn’t true. Tiny’s personality had made the decision.
Tiny, for all his size, or perhaps because of it, was the most laid back, calm individual on the planet. A stark contrast to Jackie’s almost hyper, impatient, let’s-get-things-done-now, need-to-prove-herself attitude. He was her rock, calming her when she lost patience, and gentling her when she was moved to be hard. They were friends, and while she was now his boss rather than just his co-worker, he still let her know when she was being a little Napoleon. It was something Jackie knew she needed.
“Oh Tiny, this looks wonderful,” Vincent praised as he followed Jackie into the kitchen to see the food on the table.
“It’s just a black bean stir-fry,” Tiny said modestly. “It was fast and easy.”
“Hmm.” Vincent pulled out a chair for Jackie. “Well, it smells delicious.”
Jackie eyed him suspiciously as she sank into the seat Vincent was so gallantly holding out. She still didn’t believe the vamp normally ate food. The man hadn’t even had a teaspoon in his kitchen, but it looked to her as if he was going to eat now.
Vincent seated himself across from her as she dished up a good portion of stir-fried vegetables and beef onto her plate. She then offered him the serving bowl as Tiny set glasses of water by each of their three settings.
Vincent took the food and served himself before passing it on to Tiny as the giant joined them at the table. Both Tiny and Jackie watched as Vincent scooped up the first forkful of food and lifted it to his mouth. Her expression was cynical, Tiny’s was expectant.
Surprise was Vincent’s first reaction as he closed his lips around the mouthful of food. The emotion flickered across his face and then gave way to pleasure. “This is good.”
Tiny relaxed in his seat, Jackie just shook her head. The man didn’t normally eat at all. She’d stake her life on it, but didn’t comment and merely concentrated on eating. It really was good.
Jackie finished eating first, rushing through her food as she rushed through life, always hurrying to get to the next task. Tiny, of course, ate like he lived, savoring each moment and calmly enjoying it. Vincent was somewhere in the middle, gobbling it up at first, then slowing as he no doubt grew full. If he hadn’t eaten for decades as she suspected, his stomach surely would have shrunk, Jackie thought, but again didn’t say anything. He was the one insisting he ate, he could live with the consequences.
