Zrakovi joined us at the table. “Hoffman’s dead, and doesn’t appear to have been drained. He appears to have been chewed on. What would you know about that, Mr. Warin?”
Jake went through his story again, and I could sense Zrakovi’s doubt just as I could tell Alex wasn’t sure what to believe. He loved Jake; they were more like brothers than cousins. Jake was two years older, but Alex had always been the golden boy. Star athlete, star student at Ole Miss, star FBI agent, star enforcer. Jake was divorced, had been badly injured in his first tour of duty as a Marine, drank too much, and struggled with his identity as loup-garou—a rogue, non-pack werewolf with control issues. It would be easy to set him up for killing Geoffrey Hoffman, but why? Jake was a non-player in the grand scheme of prete politics.
“DJ,” Zrakovi said, breaking my reverie. “As difficult as it is to believe, this trouble doesn’t seem to involve you, so feel free to leave.”
He’d get no arguments from me. I got up and stopped next to the chair Alex had claimed. “We need to talk,” I said softly.
His voice was equally soft. “I’ll call you as soon as I can get free.” He reached out and caught my hand. “I really am glad you’re safe. Are we okay, the two of us?”
I stopped and thought about it for a second, then leaned down and kissed him, leaving a smudge of ash above his upper lip that looked like a milk mustache. I smiled. Yeah, we were okay. Somehow. So far. “We’re good.”
I walked to the transport, stopping when I realized Hoffman’s bloody body still lay in it, and Zrakovi looked annoyed that I was still there. I’d go to Eugenie’s instead.
Until the wind blew the shreds of my dress up and treated my nether regions to a subfreezing assault of icy wind, I’d forgotten I was not only coatless but half dressed.
I hurried as fast as the heavy snow would allow, calling Eugenie on the way, thankful my phone had survived the blast. “Let me in before I freeze,” I shouted before she’d even gotten out a hello.
By the time I skated across her frozen front porch, she had the door open. “Lord, girl, what are you wearing?”
“Not much.”
She laughed. “Yeah, I see that. You have more chalk on you than clothes. I guess that’s chalk. Is that chalk?”
I shook my head. “Plaster dust. It’s a long, ugly story. Can I get a shower and borrow something warm?”
Here, at least, I felt at peace. No politics, no relationship worries, no judgment, no marauding vampires or elves. At least for the moment, no imminent baby crisis.
The shower helped rinse away the last of the post-meeting aches. I towel-dried my hair and smiled at the clothes Eugenie had brought me. The teal sweater, my favorite color, was cashmere, which she could afford even less than I. She’d given me her best, which was so very typical.
“DJ?” She knocked softly on the door. “Rand’s on the phone and wants to come over. Should I let him?”
“Only if you’re comfortable with it.” As much as I hated to admit it, Rand had behaved better than my boss today. Zrakovi had been contemptible.
She smiled when I walked out of the bathroom. “I always liked that sweater better on you than on me. It’s a good color for you.”
Since Jean and Alex thought so, too, it must be true. I followed her into the living room. “Is Rand coming?”
“Yeah, I thought about it a lot last night, and I figure I’m gonna need him. I mean, I don’t know anything about his people, and this little guy”—she rubbed her belly—“is going to be a part of that world. I’m just gonna have to stop looking at what he’s done in the past and keep looking forward, you know?”
Yeah, too well. I curled myself into one of the armchairs near the fireplace and rested my head on the chair back. “I’m so tired.”
“You want to stay here tonight? You can, anytime. Or are you staying at Alex’s? When’s he gonna put some heat in your house?”
That would be never, the way things were going. Then again, it wasn’t his job to install a heating unit in my house; it was my responsibility. If I wanted to be treated like a strong, independent woman, I needed to act like it. When I could find enough time between crises.
“I’ll probably go back to the Monteleone tonight, but thanks for the offer. Or maybe I’ll go to Alex’s if he finishes up with Zrakovi in time.” Alex wasn’t angry, which was a relief, but I still felt a widening gulf between us, partly because of our different personalities but mostly because we couldn’t find time to be together. We badly needed some alone time.