Blood Leverage (Bloodstone Chronicles Book 1) (18 page)

CHAPTER
NINETEEN

FOR the first time in my admittedly brief
driving career, I ventured from my path and drove to Luigi and Nicky’s place to pick something up. I parked out of sight, not wanting to explain my use of Nicky’s truck and hoping to avoid conversation altogether if I could manage it.

Luck must have been somewhat on my side, because as soon as I parked the sky unleashed a torrential downpour—the kind that doesn’t last but drenches you instantly. It said a lot about the new window tint that I hadn’t noticed the lack of sunshine. Pity it hadn’t happened when Ian could’ve benefitted from it.

My tank and khakis were soaked in seconds but I saw it as an opportunity. I heard the squeals of excited children competing with the voices of irritated parents and knew the courtyard was experiencing a mass exodus. Even better, the rain was a perfect excuse to cover my distinctive hair with the hood of my cargo jacket. Semi-disguised, I raced to join the bottleneck of soggy people.

It was excellent timing. Everyone in the crowd was either hunched over in a futile attempt to stay dry or attempting to wrangle their children out of the rain. No one noticed me as I was swept inside with everyone else.

The cube Nicky shared with Gigi was tucked off in a corner. My luck held and none of his neighbors were among the drenched courtyard refugees. Despite the lack of witnesses, I felt undeniably uncomfortable as I approached their front door.

I’m not sure whether I was worried about being spotted or if it was the idea of being in Nicky’s place for the first time since he went missing—or even the simple act of entering someone’s house without permission. Whatever it was, my
hands were trembling as I flipped through Nicky’s endless keys.   

Amazingly, luck was on my side there too. Since his doorknob resembled ours, I took a guess his house key would look similar too. It took only seven tries to find a key that turned in the lock and I slipped inside as I heard voices approaching from around the corner of the hall. When the door latched behind me, I took a deep breath of relief.

And promptly gagged.

Covering my nose and mouth with my wet shirt as I searched for the source of the stench, I struck gold with an unidentifiable puddle of liquefied fruit in the kitchen, some greenish-black lumps that had once been baked goods on the counter and two flower vases filled with stagnant water in the living room. (Slightly unexpected in a bachelor pad, that last one.)

Taking shallow breaths, I peeled off my sodden clothes and shoved them in the dryer. I hadn’t planned on cleaning—in my underwear no less—but I couldn’t leave the mess. If the stink spread, someone would complain and demerits would be issued.

Everyone knew the Carriero men traveled frequently and I was counting on that to make Nicky’s absence less noticeable—particularly combined with the ‘Nicky sightings’ from each delivery. However, even the most oblivious neighbor would notice if demerit slips began piling against the front door. 

Fervently wishing for a pair of rubber gloves (or a shovel), I dug in. Thirty repugnant minutes later I had two sacks ready for the square’s composting barrels and the dishwasher was running. With the odor mostly contained, I flipped on the ventilation fans and ran up to Nicky’s room to resume my original mission.

Unfortunately, the upstairs was equally repulsive and I grudgingly threw the mildewed towels into the washing machine. I also punted a pile of sheets downstairs in preparation for a second load. At this rate I’d be lucky to
make my dinner with Amy, but I’d never find what I needed with everything buried in laundry.

Two hours and two loads of laundry later, I’d made a huge dent in the mess but hadn’t found what I was looking for. I’d kicked everything washable downstairs and had ransacked every cupboard and drawer without success. It was time to admit defeat.

Finally, while folding the last of the laundry, I had an annoying flash of insight. Not only did I know the location of what I wanted, it was at
my
house. I left the laundry on the sofa for next time—still plenty to do before Luigi returned—and ran around turning off lights and fans before getting dressed and locking up.

I also snagged a couple DVDs and a bottle of red wine on my way out the door. Not only would they come in handy for my plans later tonight, but I hoped the alcohol would kill any bacteria I’d accidentally inhaled.

The earlier deluge had left the courtyard squelchy and steamy, and it pleased me to find it still largely empty. I was even more pleased to hear Nicky’s gatekeeper making dinner in the kitchen as I tiptoed out. I stopped at the compost barrels and dumpsters before heading back to the truck, but no one was around to notice.

Back home, I resumed my scavenger hunt with more success. The item I’d sought was in the scruffy leather backpack Nicky had always carried—the one I’d stashed in my mother’s closet because I couldn’t bear to see it.

With little time to spare, I changed into a pink tank top and brown capris. Then I threw on my brown sandals and three carved wooden bangles that had been a gift from Mr. Nickleby and raced out the door.

As Amy answered her door, I was surprised to find my mother’s friend, Beverly, behind her. It made me feel optimistic about my proposal for the latter half of the evening. My afternoon of labor had depleted Keanu’s lasagna, and I ate enough of Ms. B’s braised lamb shank and rosemary polenta to get more than one strange look.

As Amy and Ms. B. cleared the table, I motioned Beverly aside. “Is there any way I can bribe you into staying here? I scored a bottle of wine and thought Amy could use an evening of girl time.”

Beverly shook her head and whispered, “No bribe necessary. Ms. B. and I are halfway through a novel and I’d planned on asking if she wanted me to stay. She’s making me some new trousers and she’ll keep sewing for as long as my voice lasts.”

Anxious to begin our evening entertainments, Bev and I pitched in and the cleaning was done in no time. (Unlike Keanu, Ms. B. subscribed to the clean-as-you-go philosophy of cooking.) Then I told Amy I had a surprise back at my place.

I didn’t give hints but Amy appeared game for anything—an attitude I hoped she maintained throughout the night.

Back at my cube I brought out the bottle of wine and Amy clapped her hands. I uncorked the bottle and took out two glasses, but stopped Amy as she moved to pour.

“It won’t hurt to let it breathe a few minutes and there’s something I want to discuss while we’re sober.”

A crease appeared on her forehead. “Is it about your hearing? Did Robert do something?”

I almost laughed at her suspicious tone. Apparently I wasn’t the only one anticipating the worst around here. “Nothing is wrong. I have a proposition for you.”

One eyebrow sprang up.

“Not
that
type of proposition.” I laughed. “It’s the opportunity kind of proposition, but you have to keep a secret. A big one.”

She jumped up from her seat and tackled me with a hug that sent a crochet hook winging clear across the room. “Holy shit, Nicky
proposed
!” My attempted denial was drowned in a chorus of congratulations punctuated by cheek kisses
.
It wasn’t until she began dancing around the room that I broke through to her.

“No weddings here. Honest.”

Her forehead crinkled in concentration as she sat on the sofa and I recognized her thoughtful expression. “When you said opportunity, I thought wedding dress,” she said slowly. She bit her lip. “Anything to do with clothes?”

“Not a thing,” I said.

“Something for my mother?”

I had to think about that. “It doesn’t involve your mom, but anything that helps you helps her by default, right?”

“Something involving
your
mother then?”

“Not even close,” I promised. “You’ll never guess. Can we agree you’ll keep my secret whether you’re interested or not? I swear I’m not harming anyone.”  

She barely paused to draw breath. “Of course. I swear I’ll keep your secret, whether or not I accept your, uh, proposition.” Then she laughed. “I feel dirty saying that.”

“Okay.” I filled our glasses and carried them to the sofa, taking a long sip before admitting, “I’ve been engaged in semi-illegal blood sales to vampires for over a decade.

“
Wait
,” I demanded as her mouth popped open. “Let me finish and then you can ask anything you like.” I handed Amy her glass. “You can start, but take it easy.”

She took a sip of wine, her face flushed with excitement. “Alright, I’m listening.”

I told her everything I could share without naming names, explaining how certain vampires chose to purchase blood like any other commodity instead of using the blood banks. When I told her how much virgin blood was worth, her eyes glazed over.

She took it all in, taking a sip of her wine every so often, and I saw her struggle to organize her words before she spoke. I was expecting a question about whether it hurt, or how often her blood would be needed.

Instead she came out with, “You’re
a virgin? For real?”

It was such an Amy question that I laughed, but I gave a serious answer.

“I am. When Dominic began drawing my blood on a regular basis, everyone made assumptions but I’ve never lied about Nicky.”
Not about dating him
, I amended internally.

She considered that for a moment. “I thought you were being kind.”

“Kind?” She’d lost me.

Amy nodded. “Yeah. It’s always been obvious you and Nicky would end up together. I thought you didn’t want to gloat.” Her tone was matter-of-fact. “After all, I can’t leave mom and no man would want to take her on.” 

My instinct was to protest, to say the right guy would come along, but her steady gaze stopped me. While it wasn’t impossible, most women our age had married or had children years ago. Though it hurt me to admit it, Amy’s odds were low and falling.

She grasped my hand. “Please don’t let this make things weird. It’s something I’ve made peace with.” Her mouth quirked with a bitterness I’d never seen. “That said, it’s nothing I like to dwell on, so tell me. You and Nicky… What’s happening there?”

Oh boy. So much for not lying.

I took my time with my answer, wanting to be as honest as possible. “Until recently, Nicky and I were nothing but friends and business associates.” And now for the hard part.

“Right after my banishment petition we
did
take things a bit further, but I don’t see us becoming a couple.” There. It wasn’t the complete truth, but none of it was a lie.

Amy rubbed my arm in sympathy. “What happened? Things didn’t go well?”

It was the understatement of the century and I felt my eyes well as I answered. “You might say that.”

At the sight of my tears, Amy switched topics. “Returning to our earlier discussion, I have to say I’m surprised about one thing. If you needed your blood taken in secret, why ask Nicky for help instead of me?”

She nearly spilt her wine as she answered her own question. “Holy crap, he does it too!”

I attempted a half-hearted denial, but Amy snorted. “Don’t bother. You’re a terrible liar. The only way you can get away with a fib is if you’re saying something that’s
technically
true. Otherwise? It’s all over your face.”

I would’ve laughed but Amy beat me to it, the loudest laughter I’d ever heard from her. She had to force the words out between giggles. “Wait, wait, wait. Nicky… with all his talk… and all his manly
bullshit
… He’s a virgin too? I’ve felt so freakish all this time and instead I’m a member of an unknown elite. Who knew?”

She polished off her wine, choking back her laughter. “Back to you and Nicky. Are you okay being friends?”

I wanted to say I didn’t have a choice at the present time but settled for, “Some days are harder than others.” Another (honest) understatement.

Then I realized I
wanted
to talk about Nicky, but it was hard to find the words. “Many people have romantic expectations for Nicky and me, but I’ve never been one of them.”

Amy was clearly surprised. “You never considered it? I know you aren’t in a hurry to settle down—you’re a tad strident about that—but I assumed you’d eventually…”

I frowned and Amy pressed on. “Well, look at you two!” she exclaimed, like that was sufficient explanation.

It wasn’t.

“And…?” I wasn’t letting Amy off the hook that easily.

“You two are a match, that’s all.”

Her words hit me harder than I would have liked and I busied my hands with the wineglasses in an attempt to pull it together. Unfortunately, Amy interpreted my silence as an invitation to keep talking.

“You have to know what I mean. Nicky is more sophisticated than the other guys around here, he’s gorgeous and one day he’ll take over the family business. And you!” She pointed at me like I might not realize who I was. “Like it or not, you
are
your mother’s daughter.”