Golden Anidae (A Blushing Death Novel) (10 page)

“Are you in trouble?” he asked point blank. That’s Derek, no beating around the bush.

“Not yet,” I answered.

“I don’t like the sound of that, Kid.”

“Trust me, I like it even less.”

“How deep do you want me to look?” he asked, a hint of trepidation in his voice. If he asked Jade to help, she’d find out in a few keystrokes where I was and then I’d either have to leave again or finally go home.

Home.

It had a nice ring to it. The only thing stopping me was that I wanted to go home on my own. I didn’t want them to force me. I didn’t want them coming after me.

Did it even matter anymore? Enza was in danger, Soraida was probably dead, but I didn’t want to say that anywhere near Everett, and now some random bystander named Rupert was depending on me to save him too. If it wasn’t for Soraida, I was half-tempted to just ditch the Pack to its own devices and be on my merry way. But there
was
Soraida to consider, and Cordero Salazan was my way in. I didn’t know how yet but I knew he was knee deep in this shit.

“All of it.” I knew that statement was like a GPS signal flashing over my head in big neon letters but I trusted Jade, and I trusted Derek to do the right thing.

“Are you sure?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“How can I get the information to you?”

I heard him rummaging around, probably for a pen and paper. I gave him the gmail account I’d set up a few months back for emergencies . . . again. I could check it at a FedEx Office and keep Cadenza out of it.

“Hey, Kid, be careful,” he said, and I could hear the fear in his voice.

Ahh, he cared.

“You, too,” I answered and hung up the phone.

Chapter 8

I’d managed to get a few hours’ sleep after convincing Everett to get lost. The man was like shaking a little lost puppy who knew where the food was. He was relentless and worried about Soraida, which didn’t help me clear my head. All I could think about was how to make him more comfortable and wipe that pitiful look from his face. The whole situation was irritating.

I woke up to Enza pounding on the guest bedroom door. She was irritating, too.

Glancing over at the clock on the lily-white nightstand, angry red digital numbers flashed at me, 3:17 p.m. I got up out of bed, drew my hair back into a ponytail and ripped the door open with a scowl on my face. Five hours of sleep wasn’t enough to improve my mood.

Enza jumped back a step at the look on my face but she was mad, too. I could see it in the tight grip of her hand on her hip and the flare of her nostrils as she breathed. I should have cared but I was too tired to give a shit.

“Where the hell have you been?” she snapped, enunciating every word like it was bitter in her mouth.

“I got caught up in some shit and couldn’t call,” I snapped back. It had been a while since I’d had to check in with someone. I sure as hell wasn’t going to start now.

“What does that mean, and what the hell is going on?” She sounded a little shrewish, her voice escalating out of frustration. “I sat up all night waiting for you. Then, I went to work and worried all day again,” she hissed, her voice unsure and shaky as she spoke.

“Look—” I ran my hand over the back of my neck. “I’m sorry,” I said with a little more understanding. I didn’t want her to worry. Hell, I didn’t want her to care. I couldn’t be responsible for her too. “I don’t want to lie to you so stop with the questions!”

“What’s going on? Are you in trouble?” she asked, glancing over her shoulder like the cops could show up any moment to drag me away. It was comforting to know that she had that much faith in me.

“No. No, I’m not,” I said, unable to restrain a snort of laughter.

“Does this have anything to do with Soraida?” she asked in a more apologetic tone.

“Enza,” I whined. “Please just let it go.”

I stormed past her and down the hall, needing something in my stomach to get my brain working again. I wasn’t awake enough for an interrogation and it was clear I wasn’t going back to sleep any time soon. I strode into the kitchen and started some coffee. Hopefully, that would help. Maybe it would keep me from saying something that I’d regret later. Or worse, have to explain. Subterfuge is not something to be taken on lightly or in a groggy, half-dozed state.

I turned to open the fridge with Enza hot on my heels. I wasn’t getting out of this no matter how hard I tried.

“What was Soraida into?” Enza asked, sliding onto the stool on the other side of the breakfast bar. The worried expression crinkling her tanned brow and shadowing her eyes made her lips press together between her teeth. She’d asked but she didn’t want to know. Not really.

Releasing a reluctant sigh, I said, “Soraida knew some very dangerous people.” I grabbed a bowl from the cabinet and poured some Cheerios, doing everything I could to keep from meeting her gaze.

“Dahlia?”

“I think you should stick close to your family for a while,” I huffed with the milk still in my hand.

“Why?” she asked with wide, frightened eyes. “Am I in danger?”

“I’d like to keep you out of danger, if at all possible,” I said, pouring the milk over my cereal then shoving it back in the fridge. “Do me a favor,” I begged as I turned back to face her. “Lay low, hang out with your family, stay with your sister if you need to. Just stay the hell away from me.” My voice was firm, the tone I used with Jade when I didn’t want an argument. Enza was quiet for a moment before she said anything, but she pushed anyway.

“If Soraida knew these people, why are you involved?”

Well, that was a hell of a question, wasn’t it? Sometimes, I wished Enza wasn’t so damned smart.

I didn’t answer. I let the silence fill the kitchen and dining area as I pushed some Cheerio’s around my bowl.

“Why not call the cops? Why don’t we call that Detective Salazan? You could tell him whatever you found last night and stay out of it,” she rambled. Her voice was pleading, as if when she got the words out, everything else would be okay.

It wouldn’t.

“That’s not a possibility. I need you to stop asking, Enza,” I snapped, and took a deep breath. The pained expression on her face made my fingers itch, made me feel guilty as if I’d struck her. My stomach twisted with regret. I couldn’t tell her. I’d forgotten what it felt like to hide what I was while in the thick of it. “You won’t understand.”

“I don’t accept that,” she yelled, her frustration making the tone of her voice shrill. “That’s not an answer.”

“That’s all you’re getting.” My voice sounded even and much too cool, even to my ears. I shoved a spoonful of cereal in my mouth, effectively ending my half of the conversation.

Enza didn’t see it that way. She waited for me to swallow before crossing her arms over her chest in expectation. She had an expression on her face that I hadn’t seen since she was eight years old. The glint in her eyes was determined and filled with a petulant forcefulness that made my lips turn up at the corners in amusement. The coffee beeped behind me and I got up to fill my mug, tossing the bowl filled with now soggy cereal in the sink.

“Enza, I need you to stay out of this. You’re the only friend I have here. I can’t lose you too,” I said, and even I heard the pleading in my voice. If begging would keep her out of this shit, I’d beg. Hell, I’d crawl on my hands and knees to make sure she stayed alive and unscathed.

“You’re not gonna lose me,” she said, sympathy thick in her tone. “I need to know if you’re in danger.”

“No,” I breathed. “Not yet.”

“Dahlia, call the cops. Call Detective Salazan, and you won’t have to worry about this. Let them handle it.”

I had to get that idea out of her head and quick before she did something stupid to get herself smack dab in the middle of this mess. The last thing I needed was for her to call up Detective Salazan and send this thing into the shitter faster than it was already going.

“There’s a problem with that,” I said as I took a long, blissful drink of the coffee. The liquid caffeine burned all the way down my throat and I was thankful for the sensation. The pain distracted me, momentarily anyway.

“What? Why?”

“I’m pretty sure that he’s in on it. I don’t know how, or even why, but I think Detective Salazan knows exactly where Soraida is.”

“Oh God,” she moaned, a horrified expression crinkling the skin around her mouth and making her dark eyes shimmer with fear.

“Yeah.”

“What do we do?” she asked. For the first time since she woke me up by banging on the bedroom door, she understood the problem.

“Well.” I put the coffee down on the counter, refilled my mug, and contemplated what I wanted to say. “For starters, you crash at your parents’ place. Tell them that your house is getting fumigated . . . bed bugs, or something. I don’t care what you tell them. I’ll call you when it’s safe,” I said with as much clout and certainty as I could throw into those words on just a few hours’ sleep. Turned out, I had more than I’d thought.

“Dahlia, I don’t like this.”

“I think we are way past that point. I have to see this through to the end,” I clipped out.

We stared at each other for a long moment. The house was quiet, quiet enough to hear the spin of the fan from the air conditioner outside and the quick heavy beat of Enza’s heart.

“Why?” she breathed. Good question but I didn’t answer her.

The silence and tension was broken by the loud, intrusive ringing of the cordless phone on the counter. Enza jumped. The phone rang three times before Enza made it the two steps to the phone and picked it up. She turned away from me to answer, not knowing I could hear every word no matter what she did.

“Hello,” she said, a little breathless. Her voice was still shaky as she spoke but I didn’t think anyone would notice but me.

“Just a moment,” she said, turning with an expression of dread in her eyes. She covered the receiver with her hands and said, “It’s Detective Salazan.” Her voice quivered. “He’s asking for you.” She held the phone out to me like a sacrifice.

Taking a deep breath, I squared my shoulders, cracked my neck, and took the phone from her. She watched me with disbelief. My chest tightened as my nose filled with the scent of her fear. I couldn’t just ignore it. Leaning in, I kissed her on the cheek, like she used to do to me when we were little. Shocked, she stared at me with wide, confused eyes. My lips quirked up in the tiniest of smiles in an attempt to comfort her, reassure her.

“I won’t let you get hurt,” I whispered before I put the phone to my ear. “Hello.” Without a hint of the hesitation or the anxiety riddling my entire body, I sank into the game.

“Dahlia?” The detective’s deep, silky, smooth voice traveled over the phone lines like it was liquid amber, tickling my ear with the promise of heat.

“Cordero,” I purred. “How nice to hear from you.”

“I was hoping you’d be free for dinner tonight.”

I had to give it to him. He went for what he wanted and nothing was going to stop him. I admired brass balls in others but in Detective Cordero Salazan, it just frightened me.

“Dinner?” I paused, trying to be coy. This was exactly what I’d wanted, what all the flirting was supposed to get me . . . a way in. “Tonight? I think I can swing that,” I said, cocky and sure of myself.

I glanced over at Enza. I knew my face was neutral, without emotion. I could feel the blank expression and the coldness in my stare like a familiar pair of jeans, worn and comfortable. She gawked at me as if she’d never seen me before and the twinge of an ache stirred in my chest at that familiar expression.

“Marvelous!” I could hear the pleased purr in his rich accent. “I’ll pick you up at nine tonight.”

Enza watched me with horrified interest. I couldn’t stop now. There was too much at stake.

“I’ll be waiting,” I finished in a coy whisper that turned my stomach. The line went dead and I hung up the phone. When I turned to face her, Enza’s expression was as easy to read as any book. She didn’t understand what I was doing or why but the disappointment was clear. I was really fucking tired of seeing that disappointed look in people’s eyes. My parents, Brennan, Patrick, and now Enza.

“You think he’s involved, and you’re going out with him?” Her voice was shrill, incredulous.

“How do you think I’m gonna find out anything? How do you think I’m gonna get close enough to find Soraida?” I yelled, my fist slamming down on the counter. The slight crack of the cabinetry beneath my fist rippled through my hand as I made contact.
Shit
. I took a deep breath and centered myself. “This is the only way.”

She opened her mouth as if to speak and then snapped it shut. Her bottom lip trembled as she asked, “Why are you doing this?”

I couldn’t tell her that it was my responsibility. “Because I promised you I’d find Soraida.”

Enza stared at me for a long moment as silence fell heavy between us like a velvet curtain. I waited for her to say something, needed her to say something. Anxiety and guilt churned in the pit of my stomach; my palms heated with the rush of blood through my veins. I’d just agreed to go on a date with another man. I felt like I was cheating. Even though I’d left both Patrick and Dean behind, being with someone else still felt wrong. I didn’t need shit from Enza on top of my own guilt.

She shook her head, leaving the room without another word. I guess leaving was better than a guilt trip or the disappointment that I’d seen in her eyes. But I knew it wasn’t. I’d done the exact same thing months ago and it had solved nothing. I exhaled a sigh of frustration-filled relief as her bedroom door clicked closed.

I opened the front door, feeling sexy and apprehensive about it. Slipping on one of Enza’s cocktail dresses, I sashayed out of my room. The rich crimson taffeta dress had a deep V-neckline that plunged below the curve of my breasts, leaving very little to the imagination. The bodice banded around my ribcage, fitting snuggly along my body and pushing everything up. Enza was a few inches shorter than I was so instead of hitting me mid-thigh, where it hit her, the skirt hit me just a bit higher, showing off the musculature of my thighs. I’d been using exercise as a distraction in the past five months and it showed. I couldn’t wear Enza’s shoes, her feet were a size and a half smaller than mine. There was no way in Hell I was going to chance being stuck in her shoes in a crisis. I’d run out to a DSW nearby and bought a pair of black, four-inch open-toed pumps with a strap around the ankle. At least I could guarantee the shoe would stay on as a trail of satin ruffles down the front of my foot connected the sole and ankle strap.

The only weapons I’d been able to find were a narrow silver letter opener, and a couple of Enza’s prescription Ambien tablets. About the size of a nail file, I shoved the letter opener into my bag along with the Ambien. They couldn’t hurt.

The outfit, the shoes, and the weapon made me feel sexy again. It had been a while since I’d felt anything close to even attractive, let alone sexy. The heat in Detective Salazan’s gaze as his eyes raked over me and his dark full lips curled up at the corners, reinforced my suspicion.

The hunger in his expression and the heady scent of musk filling the air should have had heat pooling low in my body. I knew in my core what that look meant. But I felt no heat, no desire, and no attraction. He wasn’t what I wanted.

“You look . . . mmm,” he groaned in his Spanish-accented English.

I smiled, seductive and inviting. Mata Hari wasn’t my first choice of roles but this was the hand I’d been dealt.

Stepping outside, I tugged the door shut behind me. With the heels, I was just as tall as Detective Salazan was and could look him in the eye. He didn’t seem at all disoriented by that or discouraged.

He opened the door of his Escalade for me and I hopped in as best as I could in a miniskirt. It wasn’t my intention to flash my ass or anything else all over Las Vegas.

After he closed the door with a soft thud, I took the time to look around. A built-in, top of the line satellite navigational system, stared back at me, lighting my face in the dark. DVD players and video screens were lodged in the back of the headrests with custom chrome hubcaps and a stereo system.