By a Thread (16 page)

Finally, though, the food was finished, the platters were cleared away, and it was just the four of us at the table once more, which meant that vacation time was over—for now.

“All right,” I said. “Lay it out for us, Finn.”

“Why, I thought you'd never ask,” he drawled.

Finn put his silverstone briefcase on the table, popped it open, and pulled out a thick manila folder. He flipped it open, turned it around, and scooted the file over to me and Bria.

“Randall Michael Dekes,” Finn said. “Vampire, real estate mogul, and all-around bloodsucking bad guy. Exact age and magical abilities unknown, but he's rumored to be more than three hundred and exceptionally powerful, with lots of elemental magic to spare.”

Finn had included a color head-and-shoulders portrait of Dekes that looked like it was taken off some corporate website. I picked it up so I could study it a little closer. Randall Dekes had sable brown hair, a thick, bristling mustache, and pale green eyes. His dazzling white teeth made his skin seem even tanner than it was, and he wore a fancy gray suit that even Finn would be envious of. A diamond shaped like a miniature palm tree winked in the middle of the solid gray tie that trailed down his chest. Overall, he reminded me of an old-fashioned movie star, a Clark Gable type playing the part of a tropical island lord—dark, strong, sleek, and handsome.

And dangerous. Dekes
was smiling in the photo, but the expression didn't reach his eyes. Instead, he stared at the camera in a way that was mocking, smirking, and predatory all at the same time, like he knew some great secret that no one else did. His lips were curled back far enough to show the glittering edges of his pearl-white fangs, like he was considering sinking them into whoever was holding the camera and wondering whether the resulting bloodstains would be worth running his expensive suit for. Oh yes, definitely dangerous—and arrogant too.

“Over his three hundred and some years, Dekes has built up a vast real estate empire concentrated primarily on coastal properties in the Carolinas, Georgia, and down into Florida, with a few recent purchases in the Bahamas as well,” Finn continued. “On the surface, he's a well-respected, legitimate businessman who's responsible for some of the most successful developments on the East Coast. Casinos, hotels, restaurants, golf courses, luxury spas, shopping centers. If it's on the waterfront and it's a smashing success, then Dekes probably had a hand in creating it.”

Bria looked up from the pages she'd been reading. “And below the surface?”

Finn shrugged. “He does whatever it takes to buy up the land that he wants to develop, usually for a fraction of its value. Threats, intimidations, bribes. In the last year, Dekes and the men he employs have been linked to half a dozen beatings and even more arson investigations related to property owners who didn't want to sell out to him. Interestingly enough, the beating victims survived. The arson ones didn't. Like I said, I don't know what kind of magic Dekes
does or doesn't have, but he enjoys playing with fire, whether it's elemental power or the old-fashioned kind that you get with matches and gasoline.”

I put the portrait of Dekes down on the table and sorted through several other pictures that Finn had included in the folder. Instead of being more images of the vampire, these photos showed the burned-out, smoldering remains of various homes, businesses, and other assorted properties. Blackened bodies could be seen in all the photos, gnarled, twisted, and burned, the victims' mouths open in silent screams.

The photos reminded me of how Mab had used her elemental Fire magic to reduce my mother and sister to nothing more than ashy husks. For a moment, I was back there in our burning mansion that night, my own screams ringing in my ears, the harsh, acrid smell of seared flesh filling my nose, the sickening stench overpowering everything else—

A waitress dropped a fork on the floor in front of our booth, and the harsh, reverberating
clang-clang-clang
snapped me out of my memories. I sighed. Mab might be dead, but I wondered if I'd ever be able to truly overcome what she'd done to my family. But this wasn't about me—it was about helping Callie—so I pushed away my troubling thoughts and kept studying the photos.

It didn't take me long to realize that Dekes didn't just limit his cruelty to the property owners who wouldn't sell out to him. Many of the bodies in the photos were too small to be adults, and a few were obviously the remains of animals, their silverstone collars still glinting around their charred necks. Men, women, kids, pets. Dekes and his men had killed them
all indiscriminately. In a way, that made the vamp worse than me. I might have murdered people for money, but I'd never killed a kid, cat, dog, or some other poor, pitiful, defenseless creature who couldn't fight back. Those were the rules Fletcher had instilled in me, the code that I still followed to this day. Dekes didn't appear to have even that much decency—or mercy.

I wondered if the vampire sank his fangs into his victims and drained them dry before he murdered them, or if he'd simply locked them in their own houses and businesses alive before he burned the buildings down around them. Either one would be a horrible, horrible way to die.

“So he's got a pattern,” Owen murmured. “He starts out with threats, then moves on to beatings. If that doesn't convince you to sell your property to him, then Dekes and his men torch your home or place of business—with you locked inside it. Then he buys up the property for a song after the fact, if he just didn't get you to sign it over to him before he killed you anyway.”

Finn made a shooting motion at Owen with his finger and thumb. “Bingo.”

“And now he wants Callie's restaurant,” I said. “What did you find out about the casino that Dekes is planning on building on the island?”

“It's going to be a big, big deal,” Finn said. “Every kind of game that you could want to play, along with Vegas-style shows, dancing, liquor, five-star restaurants, high-end shops, even a set of stables so they can have live horse races and polo matches on the grounds. You've got to hand it to the guy—he definitely thinks on a grand scale.”

“But can't he just build the casino somewhere
else on the island,” Bria asked, “since he owns so much other land here already?”

Finn shook his head. “Nope, like you said, Blue Marsh is an island, which means that it has a finite amount of space. Sure, Dekes owns most of that space, but there are a few other movers and shakers on the island that even he couldn't piss off without some serious reprisals. He just doesn't have enough parcels of land strung together to build the kind of casino that he wants. At least, not without the land that the Sea Breeze sits on. And we all know that it would be far easier for him to go after Callie than the island's other power players.”

I stared out at the framed seashells on the walls, the old, tattered fishing nets strung between them, the brass railing and the sunken boat that make up the bar. Despite my jealousy of Callie's easy friendship with Bria, I was big enough to admit that her restaurant was something special, something worth saving. More than that, it was Callie's home just like the Pork Pit was mine.

I might be on vacation, might have wanted to leave all the blood, bodies, and violence back in Ashland for the weekend, but I wasn't going to stand by and let some vampire thug take Callie's restaurant away from her, not when I could do something to help her. Not when I knew just how much she and this place meant to Bria.

Besides, Randall Dekes had either ordered or approved of his men raping and murdering Bria and me last night. The bastard was going to pay for that alone—even if I was supposed to be on vacation.

“Dekes is a cocky bastard too,” Finn added. “Apparently, he's having a press conference late
this afternoon out on the south lawn of his estate to formally announce the construction of the casino—even though he doesn't have the last piece of land that he needs to start breaking ground. Here's another interesting tidbit: the press conference was supposed to take place on the patio around the pool at the Blue Sands hotel, but the location was changed due to some unforeseen circumstances.”

I snorted. “You mean the four bodies I left floating in the water there.”

Finn just grinned at me.

“He's holding a press conference? Really?” I asked. “Is that all that bad guys know how to do? Hold press conferences and parties?”

“Why do you say that?” Bria asked.

“Do you know how many people that I've killed before, during, and after press conferences? It's laughable, really. You basically stand up in front of everyone and brag about how rich and powerful you are. It's like an open invitation to an assassin like me.
Come on down, take a free shot at me, and have a drink while you're at it
. I don't imagine Dekes's event will be any different. The only question is how easy it will be to get in. Right, Finn?”

He shot me a grumpy look. “Despite what you think, I'm not a magician, you know. I can't just conjure up invitations out of thin air, especially since we're not in Ashland anymore.”

I raised an eyebrow at him.

“Okay, okay,” Finn grumbled. “So I
might
have started working on getting us invites as soon as I found out about the press conference. I don't think it will be too hard, since Dekes has basically invited
everyone who's anyone on the island. I actually do business with some folks who are friendly with Dekes, so the four of us can get in that way. Friends of a friend and whatnot.”

“No,” I said. “The three of you can get in that way. I'm thinking about taking another approach. Just in case things get a little messy with Dekes.”

“And what would that be?” Owen asked.

I smiled at him. “The great thing about throwing a press conference to announce your new multimillion-dollar casino is that you have to actually invite the press. The bad guys have to have someone to crow to about their accomplishments. So I'll go in as a reporter. That should be an easy, plausible way to get a few minutes alone with Dekes. You can create some quick credentials for me, can't you, Finn?”

“Sure,” Finn grumbled again. “I might as well wave my magic wand and do that too while I'm at it.”

“Oh, quit bitching,” I said. “You know you love little challenges like this. Schmoozing invitations and creating fake documents gets your blood pumping and makes you feel all clever and larcenous.”

He shot me a sour look.

“Anyway, I think it's a good plan,” I said.

Owen reached over and took my hand in his. “But what about—”

He stopped in midsentence. He blinked for a few seconds before his violet eyes narrowed, his mouth flattened out into a hard, thin line, and his hand tightened on mine. I turned to see what he was glaring at—and spotted Donovan Caine standing in the door of the restaurant.

11

“What the hell is he doing here?” Owen asked in a flat voice.

Finn leaned to one side
so he could see what Owen was looking at. His eyes widened when he caught sight of the detective, and he sent me a questioning glance, which I ignored, since I was focused on Owen right now.

“He's Callie's fiancé,” I replied in a low tone. “He showed up here at the restaurant last night after I dealt with the two guys who were threatening her.”

“And you just forgot to mention that before now?” Owen asked, his eyes narrowed in thought.

I shifted on my side of the booth. I couldn't exactly tell Owen that I didn't know what to make of Donovan being back in my life any more than he did. The detective noticed Owen glaring at him and did a double take as well, as surprised by his appearance as Owen had been by his. The two men stared at each other for several seconds before Donovan squared
his shoulders and headed in our direction.

“Incoming,” Finn muttered, letting out a low whistle and then a crashing sound under his breath, like a bomb was about to drop down and explode on our heads.