Sucker Bet (12 page)

Gwenna was surprised at how relieved she truly was. And yet how sorry that someone else's life had ended in such a vulgar fashion. "Oh, good. Thanks for telling me. I thought it couldn't be him, because I got an e-mail from him saying he had to miss our meeting because he was working late, but it's good to hear it officially, because you know how e-mail can be… it's totally unreliable in terms of time, etc."

Nate just shook his head. "It wasn't him."

"I'm so sorry for whoever it was. Were you able to identify him?"

"Yes. His name is Andrew Fletcher. Twenty-one years old. Does that ring any bells for you?"

"No. Should it?" Why was Nate looking at her like that?

"Andrew Fletcher spent a lot of time online, including a vampire slayers' loop that also has a member named Slash87. You can confirm this for us, but I'm going on the assumption this is the same loop you're on and we've been discussing. Andrew's online name was Buzzdrew."

"Bloody hell." Gwenna recognized the name immediately. Buzz was constantly posting to the loop. He had a sharp sense of humor and an impressive vocabulary. And he made her extremely happy by always using capitalization and punctuation. "You can't be serious."

"Oh, I'm afraid I'm very serious. So how much of a coincidence do you think it is, Gwenna, that one loop member suggests you meet at the very location where another one has just been brutally murdered? Drained of all his blood, in fact. Like a vampire."

Gwenna had suspected that had been the case. She had seen the victim's pallor, and normally she could smell blood, all the time. While she had heightened smell and could decipher shampoo, skin lotions, toothpaste, and various other scents on mortals, blood was always the easiest to pick out. It hovered around mortals, their blood scent like an aura. It had been absent in Andrew's body. But she hadn't really put it together, had been so shocked, and very aware of a strong fleshy odor. She'd just attributed the lack of blood scent to his death. Now she was appalled to realize that Nate was right. This couldn't be a coincidence. It was too odd. Too planned. Yet it made no sense against the backdrop of knowledge she had—that the slayers were planning a large-scale attack on vampires in Vegas. So how would murdering one of their own fit into that?

"That's awful. Absolutely horrible."

"Yes, it is. And there are over four hundred members on that slayers' loop. We have to go through every single one, matching online name to real name, and we don't have the staff or the computer expertise to do this kind of crap. But you can save us a few minutes by telling me which cutsie little fake name is yours."

It was a bit mortifying, but Gwenna cleared her throat and went out with it. "QueenieG." No more apologizing to men.

That actually brought the closest thing to a smile on Nate's face since he'd walked in the door. "QueenieG? Okay, then, thanks."

Gwenna realized she could help him save a bundle of time and labor. "I know who about half the loop members are, and I can give that to you for the investigation. I've been playing around a little and seeing who is who. The ones who registered with real names are in a spreadsheet I created, and the ones who used fake names or registered anonymously are in a separate spreadsheet. In my spare time I've been picking through those, searching for their real identities. I've found about a fourth of those."

She was trying to be helpful, but he gave her an odd look. "Why were you collecting that kind of information?"

The truth was incomprehensible, so she just shrugged. "I was curious. I get bored easily and I like to do online searches. It's like a puzzle to find someone's real identity."

"But you don't know Slash's real name?"

"No, I haven't found his yet." Much to her annoyance.

Nate just looked at her, clearly thinking. He had this way of staring right into her, immovable, just like he had in the elevator. Like he had during sex. He could simply look at her, and it was like he was seeing everything—the real her, the inner thoughts, the secrets, the true Gwenna no one else understood.

"What do you do for a living?"

She'd given a vague response the first time he'd asked her that and he hadn't pursued it, which was amazing given how much they'd talked the night before. At least initially. Then they'd been too busy moaning to form words. But he was waiting for her answer now to his utterly loaded question, though Nate couldn't know that.

"I don't do anything."

"You don't work?" Nate didn't move or change postures, but she could sense his discontent with her answer. He had excellent control over his expressions, and he could sit as still as the dead, but she was starting to clue in to the way his thumb went up and down, up and down when he was studying her.

"No, I don't work." That wasn't a lie, though not the whole truth either. "I never did." She took a deep breath and forced the rest out. "And after my daughter died and my marriage ended, I had something of a breakdown. So I've just been sponging off my brother."

For the first time since he'd arrived, she saw a crack in his control. His fingers stopped moving, his eyes looked troubled. "Gwenna. I'm sure your brother doesn't see it that way. I'm sure he wants to help you."

"He does." She couldn't argue that Ethan had been good to her, despite his annoying tendencies, because he had. She had never lacked for money, housing, material luxuries. He gave her whatever she wanted and way more than she'd ever ask for. But lately it had begun to rub that Ethan controlled her finances. He was so generous—more than he should be really—but it meant that yet again Gwenna wasn't independent. "But I keep thinking that I really need to learn how to take care of myself. One sort of needs a job skill to do that, though."

"You didn't work before you got married?"

"No." That was simpler than explaining she had been the pampered daughter of a Norman lord, and she'd spent her days sewing and practicing the harp in the eleventh century. "I was a bit sheltered coming up."

"Well, what would you like to do? If you could do anything." Nate sank back into the sofa and waved his hand at her, like a career might pop up out of thin air.

His was a question no one had ever asked her before. Gwenna wrinkled her nose. "I don't know." She closed her mouth. Opened it. Closed it. "Well. I… don't know."

Nate raised an eyebrow. "Well, maybe you should think about it."

Maybe. But it sounded rather overwhelming. She had never considered that she could have a career. That she could be a modern woman like Alexis and Brittany. The thought was a little dizzying.

"I'm not sure I'm really good at anything." Gwenna bit her fingernail, than stared at her hand in confusion. She hadn't done that in centuries. Since those early days of her marriage to Roberto when he used to disappear for weeks at a time and she had worried incessantly. "Not really."

"What do you do every day?"

"I sleep a lot," she said, because that was true. "I tend to stay up really late at night. Last night was normal for me."

He shot her a look of irritation, not even remarking on her unintended sexual innuendo. "So what do you do at night then?"

Besides shag strange men in empty spas on massage tables. The unspoken words just hung there in the air between them, and Gwenna wanted to crawl under the table and die. Except going under the table would have her at crotch level with Nate, and she couldn't die anyway. It was hell to be wading through this with no clue how to have a normal relationship with a man.

Though obviously any sort of so-called relationship she had or might have with Nate had not exactly got off on a normal foot either. She'd had sex with him after discovering a murder victim, which possibly proved her brother's accusation to be true—she was not to be trusted when it came to men.

He was waiting for her answer. "I read. I do things… on the computer. I play the piano." Infiltrate vampire slayer loops and drink copious amounts of blood.

"What things on the computer?"

She should have known that he would call her on that one. He was still in detective mode. "I just like to explore, to read things, to do research. I'm a repeat poster on Wikipedia. Especially the section on Norman history. I do a lot of genealogy."

"And hang out in online vampire slayer groups."

"Just the one." So there.

Nate let that go. His fingers started drumming again. "So you're smart. Well read. You have extensive computer research skills. And you play the piano. It sounds like you could do a lot of things."

Gwenna shrugged noncommittally, not really wanting to discuss this with him. It made her feel inadequate. Lazy. Self-indulgent. "No one is going to pay me to play the piano."

"Why not? This is Vegas. There's a piano in every other lobby."

"But I'm not that good."

"Then why did you mention it?"

"Because you asked what I do."

"So clearly you enjoy it. No one is expecting a genius at these joints, you just have to be able to play without hitting a bad-note."

"I don't hit bad notes." She'd had nine centuries to practice the blasted thing, she'd better not hit bad notes. But that didn't mean she was capable of entertaining anyone with her playing.

"Then what's the problem? If performing in front of people makes you uncomfortable, you could record music."

She made a face without really meaning to.

He raised an eyebrow. "Okay, that's out. How about a librarian?"

Did she look like a librarian? That was startling. Though probably true. "They have degrees."

Now Nate seemed determined to forge her a career path. Like if he could just hit on the right idea, she'd get a job and get her act together. Hell, maybe there was something to that.

"So then something with your computer skills… you could start one of those services where you find people online for clients. That's huge right now and it sounds like you know exactly how to do that."

Now that idea actually intrigued her. Gwenna sat back in her chair and crossed her ankles.

"What, no excuse for this one?" He gave her a wry look.

Since she had been making excuses, she just gave him a smile back. "Now that could be interesting. I have a lot to learn, but I do enjoy the challenge of ferreting out info online."

"Maybe you can practice by helping the department match the rest of those e-mail addresses to real names."

Gwenna nodded. She'd been thinking the same thing herself. "Sure, of course I can do that. Whatever you need to help figure out what the hell is going on and who's responsible for Andrew's death. I can e-mail you the list I already have so you can get started."

First on her list was going to be Slash and FoxyKyle. They dominated the loop. And they had both taken measures to secure their identity. Gwenna wanted to know why.

"You got any paper? I'll give you my e-mail address."

Gwenna retrieved a pad of paper from the kitchenette area and watched Nate scrawl something on it with the pen she'd handed him. He was left-handed, and his elbow tilted out at a funny angle when he wrote. But his strokes were confident, sharp. Just watching him reminded her of the night before, of his hands moving over her with that same matter-of-fact approach. He took, but he didn't own, didn't try to possess or dominate. He was just positive his touch would be well received and he was right. She had welcomed every lick, every suck, every touch.

And now they weren't going to speak about it, and she was going to let him walk out the door and deny herself the chance to explore his body further all because she was a lifelong introvert.

It was beyond stupid.

He stood up. Sexy as hell, with caramel-colored hair; broad shoulders; face, demeanor, and expression as rugged and impenetrable as the north moors; a man's man, with a penis large enough that he was entitled to brag about it.

If she wanted a crack at same said penis yet again, she was going to have to be bold. She fought for the nerve, for a little backbone. To be QueenieG, in real life, as well as online.

"I'll be in touch." He passed the paper to her with zero hand-to-hand contact and headed for the door.

Gwenna stared at his back. He really and truly was going to walk out and never even discuss the fact that his cock had been in her mouth not eighteen hours earlier. And she'd done a pretty fine job of working him over, if she did say so herself, and he wasn't even going to acknowledge any of that? It irritated her enough that she steeled herself. Damn it, she did not like being ignored.

"Are you honestly just going to leave without even mentioning that we had hot sex last night?"

Nate came to an abrupt stop. Gwenna's heart was pounding as he turned around, but it was more from anger than nerves. If he just did that thing where he stared at her and didn't speak, she was going to throw something at him. Like her sofa.

But his eyes narrowed and he said in a very low, tight voice, "You're the one who left without a word. I figured that meant you didn't want to discuss the fact that we had hot sex. On a massage table. Where you came three times."

Oh, my. Gwenna felt heat flare up spontaneously between her thighs. Had it only been three times? She'd been fairly certain she'd spent the whole time in a sort of continuous orgasm.

If the fact that she had left was the only thing bothering him, then she could resolve that straight away. "Sorry about that. I got a call from my sister-in-law that a friend has left her husband—a real rotten sort—and she was crying… it was a girl thing. I had to go over there and offer some comfort."

"You're just a comforting kind of gal, aren't you?"

"What the hell does that mean?" It almost sounded insulting.

"Nothing." Nate rubbed his head with his hand and made a sound of frustration. "You could have woken me up. I felt like a jackass waking up in that room by myself while the staff checked me out."

Yikes. The staff had found him? That must have been an eyeful. "I thought you could really use the sleep… I know you'd had a hard couple of days and it seemed important that you get some deep sleep."

He stared at her. She stared back.

Nate sighed. "Fuck."