Golden Anidae (A Blushing Death Novel) (4 page)

“It was fresh and human.”

With shaking hands, he tried to brush another tear away.

“I caught the scent of vampire,” I said, but my words were cut off by the crazy werewolf that had materialized as Everett’s eyes flashed green.

“Those sonsabitches!” he roared. “I’ll rip their fucking eyes from their sockets and eat them if they hurt her,” Everett howled, and a dog barked off in the distance.

If I didn’t stop him, he’d probably wake the neighborhood and that’s all I needed. Cops. Again.

I had to keep Everett quiet. I stepped forward to calm him down when magic prickled across my skin as the heat in the room rose to blistering. I realized I was in more trouble than I’d thought. He was shifting.
SHIT!

“STOP!” I ordered, my voice furious and unapologetic. The sharp tone vibrated through my being, resonating deep in my bones. It was as if his body no longer responded to his own will and waited for mine.

Everett’s body froze mid-shift, fur sprouting from his skin and bones cracking as they reshaped.

Shhhhhit!

Everett’s eyes went wide with fear and probably pain. Stuck halfway through his shift had to suck and I cringed as he struggled to find one form or the other. I took a deep breath and knew I had to fix this.

“Shift back to human.” Putting all that otherworldly force I had behind the words, I commanded him to follow my orders.

His body hesitated, jerked, and spasmed. Fur receded and his eyes that had shifted to a bright sea-foam green returned to the dark navy they had been when he came in the room. He dropped to his hands and knees, his breath heavy in his chest as his gaze turned up to stare at me with wide, frightened eyes.

“What are you?” he huffed.

“That’s a really good question,” I said, trying to bring the freak-o-meter inside my head back down out of the red zone.

“My Alpha can’t even force a shift,” he whispered, shaking.

My head shot up in surprise as my fingers tingled with magic. Dean could do it. He didn’t like to force someone to shift but he could. Dean had said it hurt like a son of a bitch so he only used the tactic when absolutely necessary. I’d seen him do it once to Jackson to teach him a lesson before I’d had to kill him.

I had a load of questions for Everett, now that he was talking, calm, and a bit in awe of me.

“I need you to be able to talk to me. So no shifting,” I ordered.

Nodding, he plopped down onto the floor, crossing his legs in a yoga style posture as his shoulders slumped and he took one deep breath after another. He peered up at me, expectant.

Okay.

“Why would Soraida be in danger?” I asked first. The questions flying through my head were like rockets, and I knew I was going to miss a couple.

“If Marabelle and her colony smelled me on Soraida, they’d hurt her or kill her just to get to us, to Barry,” he said. He rubbed his palms flat over his jeans, a nervous tick.

“Barry’s your Gaoh?” I needed to keep this shit straight.

“Yeah,” he said with a smile. His navy blue eyes glittered with appreciation as if I’d just given him the secret club handshake.

“And Marabelle is this city’s head honcho vampire?” I asked, and he nodded. “Okay, so why would Marabelle be looking for Barry? Or any of you, for that matter?”

“Because we’re werewolves,” he scoffed with a little snicker.

My first thought was to call Patrick and Dean. But I couldn’t call them to come save the day. I wouldn’t. If I was going to call them, I wanted it to mean something. Bad mojo was going down in Las Vegas and the look on this kid’s face made me want to stop it. But this wasn’t Patrick or Dean’s problem. It was mine.

“How long has this been going on?” I asked in a soft comforting voice.

“Since Marabelle came to town. Right around 1967,” he said.

Jesus!

“Are you telling me the werewolves have been hunted in this city for the better part of a half century?” Even I could hear the incredulity in my voice.

“In the entire region but it’s not so bad,” he said, shrugging his shoulders with the innocence of a 10-year-old dealing with an alcoholic mother. “Mostly, we just stay indoors at night. But I couldn’t get on a dayshift so I have to be extra careful. Then there was Soraida.” He ran his hands through his sandy blond hair and his bottom lip quivered as if he was on the verge of tears. “Barry warned me that they’d use her if they could. I had to tell her. She needed to know the risks.”

“Everett,” I said, interrupting his train of thought. I didn’t want him to disappear into wallowing again. I needed his help for just a little bit longer. “They got into her house. They needed to be invited in. Did she know any vampires?”

“No!”

“Then how?”

“I don’t know,” he snapped. “They had to’ve tricked her somehow.”

“But it was four in the morning, maybe five. It’s not like she would take a delivery at that hour,” I said but then my mind started to wander.

Who would she open the door for in the middle of the night? Ohhhh. Noooo. Please don’t let it be a cop. Not a cop.

“I don’t know. I DON’T KNOW!” Everett screamed as he put his head in his hands and wept. There was nothing he could do. I knew the feeling.

Before I could stop myself, I was off the couch and kneeling beside him. He froze, his breath catching in his throat as his sobs hitched and he hiccupped. I held out my hand just above his head, wanting desperately to stroke his pain away.

He is ours.
She whispered. She’d been so quiet for such a long time. I’d almost forgotten what her husky rich voice sounded like humming through my mind. I’d missed her certainty, her primal demand, and her reassurance.

I lowered my hand, sinking my trembling fingers into Everett’s soft silky hair. He turned his head into my hand, rubbing his cheek against my arm and my palm. There was nothing sexual about the contact. It was comforting and with each stroke, Everett drew nearer until he was in my arms, sobbing against my shoulder.

“I promise you, I’ll find her. Shhh.” I rocked him for several minutes in my arms until he sniffled and pulled himself together. I didn’t want to let him go. He was mine, mine to protect, mine to care for. Mine to shelter and chase the nightmares away.
Oh God!

He backed away from me, almost as if he suddenly remembered he wasn’t supposed to be crying. His rich navy eyes were red and puffy, shining through his tears like gazing up at a clear night’s sky.

Suddenly, I longed for the certainty of Patrick’s dark eyes, the warm acceptance and understanding of Dean’s olive-green irises. Everett peered up at me as if I was his whole world and I wasn’t sure I could carry that on my shoulders. Not alone.

“I’m sorry,” he sniveled.

For so vicious a creature he sounded so young and defenseless, cowering next to me.

“It’s all right,” I said, meeting his eyes and pushing his soft blond curls from his forehead. “I know what it’s like to lose someone you love,” I added with a catch in my throat.

I wasn’t going to cry, damn it.

“Believe me, she’s not gone yet,” I said as the confidence and determination returned to my voice.

He nodded and got to his feet.

I stood next to him. Tugging at the pit of my stomach was the same power I’d felt in the center of that Manit. I’d managed to kill Jackson in an all-out, knockdown, drag-out fight to the death, the ultimate struggle for power. I’d won. Jackson had lost. The Pack had swarmed around me, bowing to me in surrender as the dominant survivor. Whatever I was, the part of Everett that was wolf called out to me and drew me closer to him.

“I have to tell Barry,” he whispered.

“Don’t,” I ordered. “Don’t tell Barry.” I didn’t want any misunderstandings between us. “I don’t want anyone to know what I’m doing. Not yet.”

“We’ll find her? Right?”

“I give you my word. I’ll find her,” I said, and even I could hear the sharp edge to my voice.

“Do you think she’s still alive?” he asked, his voice filled with desperation.

I could only answer what I believed.

“I think that if whatever they wanted her for was a message, they would have left that message on the kitchen floor with her dead body,” I said.

He released a sigh of relief, then closed his eyes for the briefest of moments.

“They want something and they’ll keep her alive as long as they need to use her as a bargaining chip. You can count on that,” I finished, gathering my helmet and making for the door.

“How do you know?” he asked, his tone so hopeful and naïve, seeming almost lost.

I feared for him. Opening the now broken front door, I turned back. I was almost afraid to leave him alone.

“I’ve known a vampire or two in my time. They’re very . . . pragmatic,” I said, walking out and closing the door as best I could behind me. I needed some sleep but there was too much to do. The clock was ticking to find Soraida.

Chapter 5

Detective Salazan roared out from behind the chain-linked fence of the precinct parking lot in a Cadillac Escalade.

I snapped the visor of my helmet down, eliminating my face from view and hit the throttle on my bike. Jetting out into traffic behind him in a rip of engine and tire noise, I followed him at a safe distance. About two cars back, three when I could manage it, I tailed him for about two and a half miles.

He crossed traffic on the four-lane road into a strip mall filled with a coin laundry, a check cashier, a nail and tanning salon, and a little burger joint. I drove by and down the street, turning around in a bank parking lot. I circled back, making the easy turn into a space in front of the dive joint. Detective Salazan was already inside.

I took my helmet off and tucked it under my arm as I approached the door. The greasy spoon was packed with a line reaching out the door. Definitely a place where I could
accidentally
run into Detective Salazan.

I got in line seven people behind his imposing figure. He stood patiently in line all by himself. The people around him didn’t crowd him as they did each other, giving him plenty of room. The patrons seemed wary of him, talking in hushed whispers in a mixture of Spanish and English. This was one of those times that I wished I’d taken Spanish in college instead of Russian. I didn’t understand a damned word anyone was saying.

I waited until after he placed his order and circled around the counter to get napkins before I put myself in his line of sight. I stared casually off in the other direction so I wouldn’t look conspicuous.
That’s me, smooth
.

“Ms. Sabin?” he asked in a deep rumble of surprise.

I glanced up with as much surprise in my eyes as I could fake. I was getting pretty good at faking it. I suppose hiding and pretending I was anyone but who I actually was for the last five months has paid off. He believed it. I channeled a little of Jade’s talent and squared my shoulders. God help me, I was going to try and flirt.

“Detective Salazan,” I said with a bright, welcoming smile. “What a surprise.” I took a step up and closed the gap in the line.

“What are you doing here? Doesn’t your cousin live on the west side of town?” he asked, confidence rumbling in his deep baritone. His question made me believe he’d memorized the entire file concerning Soraida Ramirez’s disappearance.

“She does, but I’m thinking of staying. And as generous as my cousin is, I can’t impose on her permanently.”

Detective Salazan’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, or was that concern? I couldn’t tell. His deep brown eyes reflected nothing as the gold flecks around the edge of his irises danced in the overhead halogen lights.

“I’ll need a place of my own,” I said, stepping up to the counter. Hoping my action didn’t seem menacing, I glanced over at him with a smile in my eyes. I’d never been very good at flirting and had scared off a guy at a bar once or twice with what I thought was an inviting look. I hadn’t had to flirt with Patrick, he liked his women ballsy and brash. Detective Salazan, I figured liked something a little more demure. “What’s good here?”

He seemed perplexed for a moment, like he shouldn’t be talking to me.

Smiling, I tucked my helmet against my hip and cocked it so I could reach my wallet in my back pocket.

“I like the double with cheese, jalapeño, salsa, and guacamole,” he said to the pretty young blonde behind the counter.

“That sounds great,” I said and turned to the teenager. “I’ll have what Detective Salazan suggested and throw in some chips and salsa and a bottle of water.” The teenager shot a glance over to Detective Salazan, quick and fleeting but didn’t linger, casting her eyes down as if she was submissive to him. He was good looking and it struck me as odd that her gaze wouldn’t linger longer.

She punched in my order and I paid without making eye contact with her again. She wouldn’t look at me. Moving to the side, I waited with Detective Salazan for my order to come up.

“You can just uproot like that? Don’t you have a family or a boyfriend back in Columbus waiting for you?” he asked, picking up our conversation where it left off.

Yep, he’d memorized the file. Enza hadn’t mentioned Columbus. Smiling to myself at the opening, I would swear that last question had been fishing.

Patrick and Dean’s faces flashed through my mind. Almost too fast to recognize but it wasn’t their faces I saw, it was more like the auras they radiated. The signature feeling I got when each was around and I considered what was waiting for me back in Ohio.

God, I miss them.

A tear burned and dampened my eyelashes. I turned my anguish and loneliness up to meet his interrogative gaze, using what I had to convince him to trust me, just a little. A tiny bit of truth couldn’t hurt. He’d find out anyway if he hadn’t already, so why hide it?

“My boyfriend.” I swallowed down the pain that had lodged in my throat. I didn’t like talking about Danny, it still hurt. I hated using him as an excuse but I hoped he’d understand. “He was killed almost a year ago.” Sniffing back my tears, I plastered a forced, brave smile onto my face. Patrick would be so proud of my Machiavellian execution and for some reason that made me all warm and fuzzy inside.

“I’m so sorry,” Detective Salazan said.

For a split second, I almost thought he was sincere but his adrenaline picked up and his heart raced. Something sweet that I couldn’t place mixed in with the heady aroma. His expression reflected nothing of what was going on behind his eyes, putting me on edge. I brushed a tear from my cheek and glanced away. There was something
off
about Detective Salazan and it sent a shiver up my spine.

I turned back to him. “Thank you,” I said and paused. “There’s nothing for me to go back to. In fact, starting fresh seems like a better idea all the time.”

“Number 147!” the teenager behind the counter called out.

Detective Salazan hesitated, glanced at the counter, and then back at me. Grabbing the bag, he stepped a little too close to me to be cordial.

“I was going to take my lunch back to the office but if you’d like to sit with me, I’d gladly stay,” he said with a smile that would’ve rivaled Danny’s. Bright and enticing, it hinted at a promise of pleasure to come.

“I’d like that.”

He grabbed his bag, the Coke he’d ordered, and swung back to me.

“If you’ll get a table, I wait for my order. It should be up any minute,” I said, still smiling.

There was no way I’d let this guy anywhere near my food. I don’t know why, but he set off all my alarm bells and I’d learned to listen to those instincts.

Detective Salazan dragged two chairs to an empty table near the front window and the teenager behind the counter called my number.

I stepped up to the counter and reached for the bag. The teenager handed it to me then grabbed my wrist in a tight grip.

“Hey,” I started until I met her warning-filled gaze. Her lips trembled as if she wanted to speak. I waited for a long moment as several people in line turned their gazes away. “Is there something else?” I whispered, encouraging, but she didn’t answer. Her eyes darted from me to the front of the restaurant. I could only guess she was watching Detective Salazan. “Thank you for remembering the salsa,” I said, loud enough that the entire place heard it. Lowering my voice to the barest of whispers, I said, “Don’t worry. I’ll be careful.”

The girl’s shoulders sagged and her face fell, an expression of relief softening her face.

I turned, knowing I needed to speak with her again when Detective Salazan wasn’t waiting for me. I wasn’t the only one who thought Detective Salazan didn’t smell right.

“What was that all about?” he asked with a casual curiosity that I didn’t buy. Staring at the teenager with ferocity in his warm eyes, he leaned back in his chair. Waiting.

“She forgot to put my salsa in the bag and caught me before I walked away. No biggie,” I said with a shrug as I sat down across from him. “So do you come here often?”

“A few times a week,” he answered.

“Then the burgers must be good.”

“They are. Do you ride?”

For a second I had no idea what he was talking about until I followed his eye line to my helmet. “Yeah.” My voice sounded wistful, even to me.

“Not many women ride motorcycles,” he said. The ‘r’s in that sentence rolled off his tongue in a sexy hint of an accent that normally wasn’t there. His gaze raked over me and he took a bite of his burger, waiting for me to respond.

Unfolding the sandwich wrapper, I breathed in the aroma of juicy red meat. The aroma made my mouth water and my stomach growl, loudly. I hadn’t realized how hungry I was until the scent of grilled meat filled my senses. My teeth cut into the sandwich, filling my mouth with the warm, juicy flesh.

“It’s really good,” I said. My cheeks heated in embarrassment. I hadn’t been able to think about anything but eating and tearing the meat apart for several seconds.

“I’ve been coming here for a couple of years,” he said, folding his arms over his chest. “So the bike,” he reminded me, expectant.

Riiiiight. That’s what he’d been talking about.

“It was Danny’s. The bike was all I took with me when I left,” I said, not meeting his gaze, feeling all too raw at the confession. I directed all my efforts on the burger, my mouth watering.
Jesus, what’s wrong with me?
I took another bite and savored the combinations of primal flavors and textures just as I had the first.

“Oh.”

The meat hit my stomach, lifting a fog from my brain I hadn’t known was there.
Had I eaten earlier?
I couldn’t remember. All I knew was that I felt more like myself again once I had that red meat in me.

“It’s really okay. I was bad there for a while but I’m getting better. I’m getting better every day,” I added, confident. It was true, too. The nightmares about Danny’s death had all but disappeared. I still had one now and then but they were never as graphic as they’d once been. I still missed him but I didn’t ache anymore and that made me sadder than missing him had. I felt like I should ache. I should ache the way I did when I woke up in the middle of the night and realized Patrick wasn’t there. The way I ached when I saw something the same blue as Dean’s wolf eyes. I’d loved Danny but he was gone. It had taken me almost a year to realize and believe that his death wasn’t my fault.

I repeated the familiar mantra in my head several times before I turned my focus back to Detective Salazan. He smiled but it was sad, carrying none of the charisma of his previous smiles.

“I know what that’s like,” he consoled, all but abandoning his burger and fries.

“Really?” I asked with genuine surprise.
Share. Come on buddy, share with little ole me.

“My wife and daughter were killed in a car accident about seven years ago.” Pain edged his voice as if it had happened yesterday.

“I’m so sorry,” I gasped, finally forgetting about the meat in front of me.

“I moved back to Vegas to be near family but I hardly ever see them.” Turning the full weight of his pain-filled eyes on me, he said, “But like you, I’m getting better all the time.”

There was a glimmer of cruelty to the upturn of his lips and I sat back in my chair, confused. The pain in his eyes and the menace curling his lips into a grim smile didn’t add up. The hair on the back of my neck stood on end and any sympathy I had for him disappeared as my stomach tightened in panic and warning.

“That’s . . . great,” I said. He glanced down at his watch, and I took the opportunity to shiver at the contradiction sitting across the table from me.

“I’ve gotta get back. Can I walk you out?” he asked, wrapping the remains of his burger back up and shoving it in the bag.

“Sure,” I said, gathering my trash.

He took it from me and strode over to the garbage cans. Placing his hand at the small of my back in a territorial, yet chauvinistic gesture, he guided me outside.

I wasn’t even sure he knew he was doing it. Normally, he would have gotten an elbow to the face for a move like that but I needed this guy. I needed to get closer and get him talking. So, I ignored the testosterone-filled posturing and sashayed out with my helmet under my arm.

He stopped in front of my beautiful Kawasaki Concours. The deep metallic blue paint shimmered in the desert sun. The bike still looked like the day I’d rolled it out of Danny’s garage. I went through a lot of trouble to take care of that motorcycle and it looked that way.

“Is this yours?” he asked, envy making his voice rough.

I smiled to myself as I gave her a once-over. My bike was definitely a
her
. Sleek, sexy, and could put you on your ass if you weren’t careful.

“Yep.” I brushed my fingers through my now shoulder-length hair, smoothing it out of the way before I slipped the helmet on. “It was nice to see you, Detective Salazan,” I said, gripping the helmet.

He held out his hand. After a slight hesitation, I shook it. I wanted to seem receptive but not over eager.

“Please,” he said, the ‘s’ hissing through perfect white teeth. “My name is Cordero but you can call me Cord,” he said, stroking his thumb over the top of my hand, still clutched in his tight grasp.

Narrowing my gaze on him, I evaluated his face for a moment or two. I leaned forward into his personal space, tugging the hand still clutched in mine. I peered up at him from underneath my eyelashes like I’d seen Jade do a hundred times. See, I could flirt when I had too. At least, I think I was flirting.

“You don’t look like a Cord to me, Cordero,” I said, putting the proper roll to the ‘r’s in his name.

A quick gasp filled his chest, sucking on his teeth as his heart raced, making his rich scent fill the air around him. So he liked that. I’d keep that in mind.

“May I call you Dahlia?” he asked, his voice a deep rumble of lust and heat.

“Please,” I purred, sucking my bottom lip between my teeth with an enticing smile lighting my eyes.

Patrick had once told me that that single gesture drove him into a lust-filled frenzy every time I did it. He’d said it promised things to come. I needed Detective Salazan to believe that those things could and would come. Some might call it a tease; I called it insurance.