Blood and Destiny (14 page)

Sliding in, I took him a good look at him. Like the others, his hair was dark but had enough auburn highlights to prove he was a really dark brunette. His eyes were nearly black against a pale face, though they sparkled with mischief. He shared the same striking bone structure with his kinsmen, but there was something sharper around him I couldn’t put my finger on.

“The elusive Milo of technogeek stardom, I presume?” It wasn’t hard to make my tone light.

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

Seeing the face behind the voice was actually helping me put together a lot of jokes over the years.

I realized I knew him well enough to count him as a friend even if I didn’t know what species, exactly, he was.

“And Destiny St. George, everyone’s darling. It’s very nice to see you in the flesh.”

The way he worded that made me grin and jibe back. “Spying is against the law.”

“Only if you’re caught, Destiny. Only if you’re caught.”

Before I had a chance to volley back, a waiter was suddenly beside the table with salads, fragrant bread still hot from the baking, and a bottle of red wine. Instead of opening the wine, he plunked it down on the table next to Milo and served the food. If that wasn’t curious enough, Milo shifted as he pulled a small wine cork from his pocket. With practiced ease, he flipped the blade out and began to cut the foil seal away. The waiter moved on without a blink, smiling at the next couple in our section.

Even deciding I was going to count him as a friend, it made me uneasy. There was a lot of distance and people between the door and me if things went wonky.

“Are you afraid to be seen with me, Milo?”

His mouth turned up in a half grin as he shook his head. “Ah, you know better than that. I thought you might want a little privacy considering we’re going to be discussing privileged information and all that. Besides, if you’re worried about appearances, the only tale someone’s going to carry back to your beaus will be that you had a quiet lunch with a strikingly handsome man.”

“Oh, don’t think a lot of yourself or anything like that, do you?”

The way he’d said it made me laugh and it went a long way to easing the tension. Whatever they were, Milo’s people hadn’t offered me violence and there was nothing but a tranquil atmosphere around us. Until they changed their tune, I’d trust him because he had always come through for me in the past.

“I’ve never had a complaint to date. Besides, you’re just my type.”

Milo made a show of breathing across his knuckles and polishing them against the emerald silk of his shirt…and I realized what he was with a jolt. Selkie. There went my theory about Italian roots.

But how had a nest of selkies taken up residence in town without anyone being the wiser? Our gazes locked for a moment and the way his smile flashed at me let me know that he knew I had figured it out.

“I bet. Do I need to start combing the beaches for a certain treasure to make sure you mean it?”

“It’s the modern age, Destiny. Nooks and crannies went out during the dark ages. I’ve never been called a traditionalist. Speaking of traditionalist customs, I took the liberty of having the kitchen prepare my favorite dishes for you. Please don’t take offense, but I thought it would make things go a little smoother. Kevin will leave us mostly alone until the food is ready. Now that I have you in my evil clutches, I’d rather not rush to the business end of things.”

His teasing had the desired effect. Instead of being offended that he’d ordered for us, I was glad not to have to stare at the menu and fret over the prices. He slid the cork from the wine bottle with practiced ease and I couldn’t resist teasing him in return.

“You do that like you’re an expert. Do you work as a waiter in your spare time? From the smell of

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

things around here, I think they pay pretty well.”

“You’re fishing, Destiny.”

“And you’re not biting. Come on, cut a cat a break and satisfy some of my curiosity. I don’t even know your last name.”

His grin never lightened as he poured the wine into the glasses. His tone was bland as he answered the obvious question.

“It’s Carvelli and no, I don’t work as a waiter here. I happen to own it by default. My siblings decided that they wanted a freer life than one tied to a restaurant by the sea. Now that I’ve answered your question, you can share the intimate details of your life next.”

“I doubt very seriously that I have any that you don’t know about.”

“Ah, but knowing facts is far different than knowing what motivates someone to make the choices they do. Lie to me and make me feel better.”

I couldn’t resist a chuckle over his technique. It was no wonder people were willing to break laws for him. To buy time, I took a small bite of the salad. As a carnivore, I usually passed on the leafy filler associated with fancy meals, but this one hit the right chord. The lettuce and baby spinach leaves were crisp and the vinaigrette tangy enough to complement the herb croutons and offset the tomatoes. With a total disregard for manners, I practically inhaled it.

Milo didn’t comment, not even to tease. He simply buttered a roll and placed it on my bread plate.

The motion brought me up short and I glanced at him guiltily. He smiled at me and I was struck by the thought that he was one of those men who would smile his way through the gates of Hell and have a comment for the gatekeeper.

“It’s good, isn’t it? They do a wonderful job in the kitchens. We’re having a salmon-stuffed manicotti with a cream sauce, in case you’re wondering. It’s my favorite and the chef has perfected the dish to an art form. But don’t think you’re off the hook. I would honestly like to know what your personal motivations in life are.”

“About anything specifically or in general?” I was suspicious and didn’t bother to hide it. Charming men had that effect on me.

“Specifically? What’s the fascination with the vampire? It can’t be his wealth because he’s always been furtive about it with you. Other women get jewels and trinkets. You get wine and conversation. He’s wooing you, but to what end?” Milo buttered his own roll and set it on his bread plate before continuing. “And just when I thought he had you, you walked away. Up and left like that.” He snapped his fingers. “And now he’s back again. What is up with you two?”

“Why do you want to know?” I was defensive as I pushed the remaining bit of salad away.

Granted, there wasn’t that much left, but I had lost the taste for it.

“Because you’re a fascinating subject to follow.”

“So, tell me, then. Don’t you have anything better to do than be the city’s little voyeur?”

“Don’t knock voyeurism unless you’ve tried it. It can be a very rewarding hobby.”

The way he said it made heat rush up to my face. In the game of innuendo and flirting, I was totally out of my league. Knowing that helped me keep my footing as I took a sip of my wine and

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

mentally debated how far to let him in. Milo lifted his hand a fraction off the table and the waiter, who was obviously paying closer attention than I had given him credit for, hurried over to take our salad plates. In the end, I decided to tell him nothing. It was partially because I didn’t know the answer but mostly because it was simply too personal an issue to discuss over lunch with a virtual stranger. Of course, this could be his method of payment for the information he was carrying, but I was willing to take that risk. Instead, I bantered back.

“Somehow, watching has never been my style. Doing is much more rewarding. Wouldn’t you rather live life?”

Milo conceded my point with a bare nod of his head. Tension I hadn’t realized I was carrying melted away as he moved on. “Perhaps. Ah, here is our lunch. I hope you like it.”

The smells wafting up from the plate made my mouth water. The salad had kept my stomach from rumbling, but this was ameal .

By unspoken agreement, attempts at polite conversation were put aside in favor of savoring the chef’s masterpiece. And it was a masterpiece. It reminded me how involved I was with my microwave. It would be weeks before anything that came out of it would taste good again.

The portions were too generous for me to finish and Milo noticed how I stared at the plate forlornly.

“It reheats in the oven. You do have an oven, right?”

“I do. I don’t know if it works, but it’s in my apartment.”

“Not even to reheat pizza?” The look of horror on his face was worth capitalizing.

“Pizza microwaves.”

“Blasphemy.”

We shared a smile as he pushed his very empty plate toward the edge of the table. A hot meal full of rich food had mellowed my attitude. I needed to start dating men who could appreciate a good meal. It was a point in the lion’s favor, stalker tendencies aside.

“I’ll have Kevin box any dessert you’d like from the cart and add it to another full portion to take home. If it’s too much food, freeze part of it to reheat later. I know you have a freezer.”

“You’re too kind.”

“Well, I feel I owe you since I’m about to shatter your sense of goodwill with bad news.”

The waiter scooped the plates up as he walked by. Milo’s hand dropped to the booth seat beside him and came up with a plain manila envelope. He pushed it over the table and waited until I put my hand on it before he pulled his away. The way he did it made the skin on the back of my neck tingle.

“What, exactly, am I going to find in here, Milo?”

“Did you know your lion was from Phoenix?”

Of all the questions I was prepared for, that wasn’t one of them. What did Luke have to do with a dead vampire’s cell-phone records?

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

“No,” I answered slowly. “I didn’t know where he came from. Why does that matter?”

“Because the records from this phone are a quandary of questions. Most of the numbers are local and easily identified. There are three that are in Phoenix. One is to an apartment of a woman who was found dead in the desert a couple of months ago. Apparently, the rent’s still getting paid and the phone’s not been changed over. The other is to a gentleman’s club concierge who has no idea which of his clients I could possibly mean. The third is to a prepaid mobile number without a name or billing address attached. It has the same area code and prefix as your lion’s cell number. There are six calls to it. Two before his arrival and four from the time the lion came to town until the vampire’s death.”

“Coincidence?”

The look on Milo’s face told me he believed in coincidence about as much as I did.

“I took the liberty of accessing the cell records of the lion in question. Before his arrival, there were three calls to the same concierge number from his home phone.”

“But not from his cell number?” I asked the question around the knot in my belly. There were half a dozen innocent reasons why Luke would have numbers in common with a homicidal vampire.

There were more logical reasons that weren’t innocent at all.

“Not that I could find and trust me, I looked. If it were there, I would have found it. I can’t have my best source of outside diversions compromised, after all.”

It was a weak attempt at humor, but I took it in the spirit it was offered. “Somehow, I don’t think you lack for female diversions, Milo.”

“Ah, but few are as interesting as you. After all, you’re not after my body or my skin.”

I acknowledged his concession with a shake of my head. The waiter brought the dessert cart over and I stared at it. Ten minutes ago, it would have been a woman’s dream. There were several things on it that I was sure would taste better than sex felt; however, none of it was particularly appealing after Milo’s revelations.

In the end, I made a random choice of a cherry custard tart. Finishing my wine, I stared at the selkie across from me as he passed on the instructions to box it with my leftovers and another portion to take home.

“Thank you for the dinner and the conversation. What do I owe you for the information? It’s hard to make an electronic transfer in person.”

“Consider it a gift. I’ve been overcharging you for years.”

It made me smile even though it was one of the few facts I had figured out long ago. I started to slide out of the booth but he stopped me with a movement that was too fast for my eyes to follow.

One moment, he was a congenial host. The next, he was holding my hand. Amiable behavior or not, he wasn’t human and I reminded myself of that. Selkies might be lovers, but any sentient being could be moved to violence.

“Be careful, Destiny. I was serious about not wanting to see anything happen to you.” Milo pressed a hard piece of card stock into my hand. “That’s my private number. If there’s anything you need, call me.”

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

I nodded in answer and he pulled his hand away. He didn’t move to walk me out and I didn’t wait around to see if he’d play the gentleman. As I passed the maitre d’, he smiled and bowed slightly as he offered me a bag.

“Your takeout, madam. Enjoy and know you’re welcome back at any time you choose. No reservation required.”

“Thank you…Roger, isn’t it?”

“It is indeed.”

“I appreciate the offer and tell your chef that he is worth far more than Milo pays him.”

That earned me a warm smile. It’s always better to leave on a glad note. Stepping out into the bright light of the day, I tried my best not to think about the lion or the vampire as I slid behind the wheel of my car and drove out of the restaurant parking lot.

The silence in the car let me mull over the questions Milo had planted in my mind. What did Luke have to do with the disappearance of Betsy Vincent? Since I didn’t believe in happenstance, I weighed the evidence against him as I fought the traffic snarl that went along with life in the city.

I blame my mental distraction for not recognizing the woman strolling down the sidewalk toward me laden with shopping bags. I might have missed her altogether if the white bandage at her neck hadn’t spoiled the image of the wealthy woman about town by standing out starkly against the vibrant blue of her sundress. Sitting in the idling hum of traffic, I stared at her for a full minute before I started cursing and blaring my horn as I angled for an empty parking spot. The car in front of me gave me clearance, but the only reason I didn’t take out the front of the parked cars was dumb luck. Betsy Vincent passed me without so much as a glance before I managed to get the car into the tiny spot. Jumping onto the sidewalk by way of the passenger seat, I sprinted without bothering to lock my car or dig out change for the meter.