The Order Boxed Set (72 page)

“Why? I thought I wasn’t her type.”

“You’re not, but I saw the way she looked at you last night. And while you might show her a good time, it will only ever be sex. And that’s not going to kill her.” A flash of alarm crossed his face. “Is it? You don’t do some weird demony shit, do you?”

Ash chuckled. Yeah, there was a whole load of weird demony shit he could do—some of it she might even enjoy. But he wouldn’t. “I’ll be on my best behavior.”

“And besides,” Ryan continued. “I still think she’ll tell you to piss off. She’s got way too much taste to fall for a demon.”

…

Faith sat back and rubbed her forehead. A vague headache had been nagging at her brain for a couple of hours now. She didn’t think it was anything serious, probably just the result of spending the afternoon deep underground staring at a computer screen.

She’d spent the last two hours reading the level-two file on Christian Roth, which in no way convinced her that Christian Roth was anything other than he seemed, an extremely successful businessman.

Apparently, he was born in the sixties but all his records had been destroyed in a fire. He’d first appeared just over twenty years ago, had bought the building that now housed CR International, and almost overnight, the business had boomed. But that didn’t mean he was a fucking vampire. It probably did mean that he was dodgy or at least paying kickbacks to someone. But if he was, there was no evidence of it.

“CR Investigations,” the section of the company Ryan worked for, did everything from investigative work, to setting up security systems, to providing a private army to anyone who might need one. No hint of anything illegal.

Someone came up beside her. Peering over her shoulder, she found the colonel standing at her back. For some reason, he made her skin crawl. She didn’t know why, but she didn’t like it.

“This is a load of crap,” she muttered. “There’s nothing weird about this guy, except he’s very good at what he does.”

“You don’t find it strange that he has never been seen out in the daytime?”

“Oh yeah, right, because if he did, he’d go up in a puff of smoke. That’s definitely proof. Not.”

“You’re a cynic, Detective.”

“Too right. I work on evidence, and so far, I’ve seen nothing conclusive.”

“Hopefully, tomorrow you’ll have more. I’m clearing it with my superior.”

“You have a superior? I can’t imagine that or at least I’m surprised you admit to it.”

“We all have to answer to someone, Faith.” He leaned over her shoulder, and she had to hold herself still to stop from edging away. “Try comparing the photos we have of Roth,” he suggested.

Faith punched a few keys. There weren’t many photographs, probably because he was pretty much a recluse, rarely seen out in public. And those there were on file were hazy as though he’d somehow shifted at the last second, blurring the picture.

The first was back in the early days when he had shown up. Tall and lean, he towered over the people around him. He wore a dark business suit and even with the bad quality, she could tell he was a stunningly handsome man. But there was nothing weird about him, no horns or a tail, no fangs that she could see.

“Compare it to the latest picture,” the colonel said.

She pulled up the last file and studied it.

“This was taken a few weeks ago. One of the rare sightings of Roth outside his building.”

He was dressed differently. In fact, everything appeared different. In the first photo, he’d worn an aura of respectability. In this last picture, he looked anything but respectable. With a jolt of shock, she realized he reminded her of Ash. Maybe it was that he was dressed the same, black leather pants and a black trench coat that nearly reached the ground. His dark hair was brushed back from his face. A face that appeared identical to the first picture. Not a day older.

“Is it the same person? Maybe a brother?” she asked.

“It’s the same.”

She wanted to ask how he was so sure.

“Even if he’d been only around twenty when the first picture was taken,” the colonel said, “he must be in his midforties by now. Does that man appear to be in his midforties?”

“Botox?” she suggested.

The colonel gave an exaggerated sigh. “What will it take to make you a believer?”

“I don’t think you can.” She thought for a moment and an image of a wall rose up in her mind. She shook it away. “You know how you get religious types who go on about faith and how you know it’s real. Well I feel like that, but the opposite. There’s something inside me. Something that knows it’s all rubbish. God, vampires, demons, angels—crap, the whole lot.”

He shook his head in exasperation. “Why don’t you head home? You look tired and soon we’ll have your clearance and we can show you something that will convince you.”

“Good idea.”

“And, Detective, you need to get into contact with your old partner. Tell him you want to meet up.”

Like hell, she would. But she didn’t say the words out loud. She was quite aware Ryan was the real reason she was here, but no way was she setting him up for these creepy guys.

She wasn’t sure how she was going to cope with the whole Ryan thing; she needed to think on it some more. But she also couldn’t tell him anything that went on here. She’d signed a scarily complete nondisclosure agreement that morning. And if she revealed anything about her new job, she’d find herself locked up and silenced quicker than she could say, “vampires don’t exist.”

So she nodded. She’d been issued a waist holster and she slotted the Berretta into the small of her back, pulled her jacket on, and headed out. It felt slightly strange leaning down for the retinal scan, but by the fourth time, she was getting used to it.

Her cell phone rang as she stepped out onto the street. She didn’t recognize the caller ID but answered anyway.

“It’s Ash.”

Her heart gave a little jump at the low, rich voice. She’d been doing her best not to think about him during the long day. Now his image flashed in her mind.

“You there, Faith?” He sounded amused, but then she had been standing in the middle of the busy street and gazing at nothing.

She cleared her throat. “Yeah, I’m here.”

“I thought we might go for a drink.”

“A drink?”

He laughed softly, and a tingle ran down her spine. She forced herself to pull herself together.

“I’m tired,” she said. “I want to head home.” It had been a long day.

“I’ll give you a lift.”

She opened her mouth to say no, then snapped it closed again. It occurred to her that if she needed a contact in CR International Ash was as good as Ryan. And while Ryan was her friend, she didn’t owe Ash anything. She’d be much happier using him as an entry to Christian Roth’s company than her old partner. Plus, sitting in Ash’s comfortable car sounded a much better option than a busy commuter train right now.

“You don’t know where I am.”

“So where are you?”

Without giving herself more time to think, she gave him her location.

“I’ll be there in five minutes.”

And he was. Five minutes later a black SUV pulled up beside her. Ash leaned across, opened her door, and she climbed in.

She’d forgotten how big he was. Huge in the confined space of the vehicle. “So?” she asked, nerves making her snappish.

“So?” A lazy smile curved his lips and her stomach flipped. What the hell was the matter with her?

“What do you want, Ash?”

“Would you believe the pleasure of your company?”

No, the truth was, she wouldn’t. Ash was gorgeous and she was sure the bad-boy looks attracted women in their droves. She could imagine him, with a blond Barbie doll type on each arm, and she was hardly trophy girlfriend material. She was okay, but had never considered herself sexy.

“I did ask Ryan’s permission to date you,” he murmured breaking into her thoughts.

Her mouth dropped open. “He’s not my goddamn father.”

“He told me ‘good luck.’ But that he wasn’t picking up the pieces when you’d ripped me to shreds.”

“But you’re still here.”

He turned in his seat and studied her, his gaze sliding over her face, down her body, and back to her face. It was like being touched and she shivered.

“I like a challenge,” he murmured. “But right now, you look tired. I’ll take you home.”

As he pulled out into the traffic, she fastened the seat belt.

“So, how was work?” he asked.

She glanced at him sharply. “I have a new job.”

“I know.”

“You do?”

“I called your old office—Ryan gave me the number. They told me you no longer worked there but wouldn’t tell me anything else. So why the move?”

She shrugged. “I’m not allowed to talk about it.”

“I presume it’s the organization that approached you yesterday.”

“I’m not allowed to talk about it.”

It occurred to her that he might be using her for information just as much as she intended to use him. But he merely grinned at her answer.

“I love it when you go all secretive on me.”

She ignored the comment, sat back, and closed her eyes. The headache still nagged at the back of her brain and she couldn’t help but worry; she’d been trying to forget the whole thing and hated the reminder that there was something bad going on in her head.

The drive took about forty-five minutes. To her surprise, Ash didn’t speak again and by the time he pulled up outside her apartment, she was feeling better. It was that spooky place messing with her mind. And the change; new jobs were always stressful. Tomorrow would be better. She was going to go over the file on Rosamund Fairfax and try and work out where she fitted in.

Maybe Ash would be able to tell her. She turned to him as he switched off the engine. “You want to come in for a drink?”

Instead of answering, he reached over the back of his seat and picked up a bottle of wine. “I come prepared.”

She wasn’t sure she liked that. Or maybe she liked it too much. She gave him a quick peek and sighed. Six foot five of alpha male all wrapped up in black leather.

For a moment, her mind flashed back to that morning when Pete had suggested they date. The thought hadn’t made her go all hot and fluttery like this. Ash was a source of information. That was the important thing. That’s what she had to focus on. She’d never considered using her body to get information, had probably known there wasn’t enough of it to swap for anything useful. She was way too skinny and flat-chested. The idea made her smile.

“What are you smiling at?”

“Nothing,” she said, her tone innocent. She jumped out and led the way to her apartment, letting them in through the front door and dropping her bag on the table.

“Nice,” he said, his gaze wandering around the place.

“No, it isn’t,” she replied. “It’s functional at best. But it does the job.”

She went into the small kitchen, dug the corkscrew out of the drawer, and tossed it to where he stood in the doorway.

Tonight, he wasn’t wearing a coat and no weapons. She took off her own jacket.

“Hey, nice gun,” he murmured.

She’d forgotten about the pistol at her waist. After unbuckling the belt, she dropped the whole thing into a lower drawer and slammed it shut.

“That come with the new job?” he asked. Then held up his hand before she could answer. “Don’t tell me—you’re not allowed to say.”

“So, you’re not carrying today? Have you decided I’m safe?”

He grinned, then reached down and pulled up his pants leg to reveal an ankle holster and a small pistol.

She shook her head; that wasn’t legal whether he had a license or not. But she didn’t pursue the matter. Instead, she grabbed a couple of glasses from the cabinet and led him into the living room. Kicking off her shoes, she sank down onto the sofa with a sigh of relief.

Closing her eyes, she felt when he sat down beside her. He took the glasses from her hand and she heard the cork being released. A few seconds later, he wrapped her fingers around the stem of the glass.

“Thank you.”

When she opened her eyes, he was sitting in the far corner of the sofa, long legs stretched out, sipping his wine and watching her over the rim of the glass, his eyes dark.

“So, without telling me anything about it, how do you feel about the new job?” he asked.

She took a gulp of wine. “Pissed off.”

“Why?”

“I was working on a case. It was important to me.”

An image flashed in her mind. A young girl’s naked body, wounds at her throat and wrists, her inner thighs. She was pale with loss of blood, her eyes wide and terrified. Suddenly, the image was overlaid with an older one. Faith’s mother. And something was behind Faith. Something that shouldn’t be there, something so terrible—

“Faith?”

She jumped as Ash dragged her back to the present.

“You know you could always tell them to go to hell and come work with us,” Ash said.

She’d thought about it on and off through the day. If this transfer was a long-term thing, then she didn’t know how she felt. Her whole life was the force. It was all she had ever wanted to do. But the thought of working day in, day out in that underground vault with a bunch of guys who gave her the creeps—well, it wasn’t a long-term option.

But first, she wanted to find out what they knew. Because while there was no way in a million years they were going to convince her that vampires had killed Julie Foster, she was certain that they had information that would help solve her murder.

Once she had that information, she would consider her future. If she had one.

She decided to ignore Ash’s question and ask one of her own. “How well do you know Rosamund Fairfax?”

He raised a brow at the change of question. “Roz? I know her very well.”

How well?

She didn’t like the reminiscent little smile that hovered on his lips. Her eyes narrowed. “Are you seeing her?”

“Hell, no.” He grinned, then shrugged. “We were close once but that ended a long time ago by mutual agreement.”

“Can’t have been that long. She hardly looks out of her teens.”

He smiled. “She’s older than she appears.”

For some reason that later photo of Christian Roth sprang to mind. Someone else who was older than they looked? Coincidence? As a detective, she didn’t believe in coincidences. CR International owned pharmaceutical companies; maybe they’d discovered some brilliant antiaging drug. She cast a quick glance at Ash and tried to estimate his age—early thirties maybe.