“Ditto,” Jonah said, and clapped Malik affectionately on the back. “Let’s look at that contract,” he said.
As they walked out, Luc came in. He was pale, with tousled blond-brown hair and a cowboy’s build, which he showed off in tight jeans and a plaid button-down he’d rolled nearly to his elbows. His boots were well-worn, his grin crooked.
He was followed by Catcher Bell, Mallory’s husband and one of the men who worked for my grandfather, the city’s supernatural Ombudsman. Pale skin, shaved head, well-built, and a handsome face that was usually scowling. Catcher had resting Grinch face.
Catcher, in turn, was followed by a woman I didn’t know. She looked young, maybe twenty-three or twenty-four, with strong shoulders topping a slender body. Her skin was light brown, her hair short and dark. She wore a fitted short-sleeve button-down in dark gray, and slim black pants over black-and-white brogues. A tweedy gray messenger bag fit diagonally across her chest.
“Kat of Grey House,” Catcher said. “Your sketch artist.”
“I’d get up,” I said with a smile, “but that would require levering myself onto my feet again.”
“No problem,” she said with a grin, and strode forward, offering a firm shake. “Nice to meet you.”
“Same,” I said, and introduced the others in the room.
“Kat’s done some work for us before,” Catcher said. “She’s very skilled.”
“I don’t know how helpful I can be,” I said. “He had a ballcap on, and the light wasn’t great.”
She took a seat on the couch across from me, pulled the bag over her shoulder, and took out a tablet and stylus from her bag. “People often see more than they remember. Getting to those details is my job.”
“And her talent,” Catcher said.
“It will just take me a minute to set up,” she said, and began tapping the screen.
“Did you find anything outside?” Lindsey asked, while Kat got ready.
“We got the gun and pizza boxes,” Catcher said. “They’ll be reviewed by our forensic team.”
“The vehicle’s gone,” Luc added, “and we made a few passes through the neighborhood to be sure he hadn’t ditched it.”
Catcher nodded. “The CPD will canvass tomorrow, talk to people in the neighborhood in the event they’ve seen him or the vehicle before.”
“He may have been watching Merit,” Ethan said. “Or at least was familiar enough with her to think she’d stop to help a human in distress.” He looked at me fondly. “Especially one with pizzas.”
“Am I really so predictable?”
There was a chorus of yeses around the room that made me feel both old and loved.
“Even Piper would agree,” Luc put in.
“We aren’t calling her Piper,” I said flatly. Luc had been suggesting names since week one.
“Phoebe? Prue? Paige?”
“Those are characters from Charmed. I’m not naming my kid after television characters.”
“It’s a good show,” he muttered, but let it go. No doubt temporarily.
“Double the guards,” Ethan said. “It seems unlikely he’ll try to breach the wall, but until we have him locked down, there will be no chances.” He looked at me, a warning in his eyes. “No chances.”
I just nodded. I wasn’t even up for the argument. I shifted on the couch, the impact of my fall and the tiny kicking vampire in my abdomen making me achy and uncomfortable.
“I’ll talk to Chuck,” Catcher said, meaning my grandfather. “You’ll also want to increase monitoring of communications coming in. Given he apparently needs money and his first attempt failed, he might try the direct extortion or blackmail route.”
“We’ll track,” Luc said, then glanced at Ethan. “We’ll also limit deliveries and visitors. No one gets inside the gate without confirmation and approval.”
“Good,” Ethan said, then glanced at Kat, who was poised on the edge of the table, tablet in hand.
“Ready?”
“I am,” she said, then glanced at me. “How about you?”
“Sure,” I said, but felt a little tug of fear that surprised me. I guess I wasn’t thrilled about the possibility of seeing my would-be attacker again. But it was the next step, so I’d take it.
First, she walked me through the event. Getting a sense of the location, available light, and where the man and I had been positioned, before we got to the details of his build, his clothing, his face.
“The clothes will change,” she said, eyes on the tablet. “But if he had watched you, he might have used the same disguise before. The context can be helpful in finding other witnesses.”
Forty-five minutes later, we gathered around to look at the two sketches she’d prepared—a full-length portrait with the clothes he’d been wearing and a sketch of his face.
And even though I was safe inside the House and was flanked by Ethan and Mallory, seeing his face again—or what I’d remembered of it—still gave me a jolt.
“That’s him?” Ethan asked.
“It’s what I remember,” I said. I didn’t think the likeness was perfect—his ballcap and the darkness had obscured the details—but it was close. Unfortunately, I wasn’t sure how much help it would be. He looked . . . average. Not especially handsome, not especially unattractive. No freckles or piercings or tattoos or facial hair. Just a guy.
“Does anyone recognize him?” Ethan asked, and there were head shakes and murmured noes.
“We’ll use the sketch when we canvass the neighborhood,” Catcher said. “If he really was watching Merit, there’s a good chance someone saw him.” He met my gaze. “We’ll find him.”
I nodded, looked around the room at the people who’d gathered to help me and felt ridiculously thankful they’d become my family. And then I got to the other business.
“Does anyone feel like pizza?”
3
It was two long hours before Jonah left Malik’s office.
That had been just enough time to walk through the mayor’s eighty-page proposal and outline a counter. They’d turn the actual drafting over to the House’s attorneys. And given how unfavorable the city’s demand had been, Jonah anticipated there’d be a lot of negotiating to come.
In the hallway, he rolled his shoulders. He was a guard captain, and he’d rather have spent the time training his people or keeping watch over his House instead of poring over a contract. He’d need a good run and a sweaty round with weights in the Grey House gym to clear his head. He’d do that as soon as he got back. But first, he wanted to check on Merit . . . and say hello to someone.
Because Jonah was pining.
Yeah, he’d had a crush before. He’d gotten a little too invested in Merit, and she hadn’t caught the same feelings. The timing also hadn’t been right.
This . . . was different. Not just interest. Not just attraction. It was bone-deep and visceral, and it called to something in the core of his being. In the core of his vampire, that ancient and animal urge. And it struck him as hard as a fist.
Margot was gorgeous—curvy in all the right places, with amber eyes that were a shocking contrast against her dark hair and generous lips. She was funny and kind and had a way with food that made him hungry in an entirely different manner. Margot also had darkness. She had pain. And he could admit those things attracted him.
Margot had declined a relationship, and the “no” was hers to offer, and his to respect. But he saw something in her eyes, the same yearning he felt in his gut. Which made the fact that she was holding back that much more frustrating.
She’d offered friendship. If he couldn’t have her completely—every lush curve and sweep of pale skin—he’d take what he could get. If he was being honest, they made pretty damn good friends. They’d had coffee, gone on a few runs together, had even taken in a few of the old Hepburn and Tracy romcoms Margot loved.
Jonah knew he walked a fine line—making the most of his time with her while keeping his feelings in check. But he’d walk that line as long as he needed . . . and hoped it wouldn’t take an eternity.