She let out a derisive bark that stated she didn't believe him. Meanwhile, Chance heard Greta stir in the other room. She must have been taking a nap.
"You were shot," Chance told her, knowing with the instant shock her body would have gone into, she might not have realized that. "I had to dig the bullet out. That's why, with the knife…"
Isa backed up until she was almost to the door of the living room. "Who shot me? Robert?"
Chance's mouth tightened. "No. But Robert pulling his gun distracted me from seeing the other two men outside who were taking aim. Apparently the Salucci brothers got tired of negotiating with Robert, and decided a drive-by shooting would be much more efficient instead."
"Those were the pops I heard," Isa murmured, as if to herself. Then she gave Chance a repelled look that pierced his heart. "You're not human."
This wasn't the way he'd intended her to find out, but there was no turning back. Even though he could erase the knowledge from her if he bit her and used his power, Chance refused to manipulate her that way.
"No. I haven't been for a long time."
"What's going on?"
Greta came around the corner, her eyes wide at seeing Chance and Isa in her living room. Hearing the old woman's heart start to beat irregularly, Chance hastened to reassure her.
"It's all right, Greta. Isabella was hurt, but I healed her."
"Isa, what happened?" Greta exclaimed, giving her granddaughter a hug.
Chance saw that while Isa gripped her back, she never took her eyes off him.
"Grandma… he's not human. I'm not crazy and I'm not making this up, but Chance isn't human!"
Greta tssked. "Well, of course he's not, dear. He's a vampire. I wouldn't have gotten him involved if he'd only been human. He wouldn't have been much use then, would he?"
Isa's mouth dropped. She looked back and forth between Chance and Greta like she expected one of them to suddenly yell, 'Surprise, you're on candid camera!'
"You knew this?" she finally managed.
Before Greta could respond, Chance held out a hand. "I have to leave you both now. Greta, don't open the door for anyone, and if there's trouble, call me at once. Isabella, you know how to use a gun, yes?"
"I, um, it's been a long time…" she sputtered.
"Good," Chance interrupted. "If anyone but a trusted friend shows up here, you shoot first before you open the door. There shouldn't be more trouble, but it's better to be safe than sorry. I'll be back as soon as I'm done."
"Done doing what?" Isa asked, taking a step toward him before stopping herself.
Chance let his fangs slide out while vampiric green lit up his eyes. Their glow highlighted Isa's face, and she gasped.
"Killing the Salucci brothers," he said, and vaulted out the window.
Chapter 8
Her grandmother stared at Isa, not speaking. Isa didn't know what to say either. So many things had happened, she felt like her entire world had been pulled out from under her.
"So," her grandmother said at last. "You didn't know Chance was a vampire until I told you, but you knew he wasn't human. How'd you figure that out?"
Isa brushed past her into the kitchen, a brittle laugh coming out of her throat. "Let's see, I started to suspect something wasn't right when Paul almost fainted at seeing Chance, because apparently, last night Paul blew Chance's brains out and sank him to the bottom of the river!"
To Isa's surprise, her grandmother began to laugh. "Oh, I wish I'd been there to see the look on Paul's face when Chance walked in. He must have pissed himself!"
"That's not the point!" Isa said harshly, which made her grandmother sober. "The point is that Chance is a vampire, for God's sake! And it's like you don't even care. How did you ever get mixed up with a vampire, grandma?"
"Sit down, Isa."
Her tone brooked no refusal. Her grandmother might be as frail as a cobweb physically, but there was still a strident note of command in her voice that said she was a force to be reckoned with nonetheless.
Isa went back into the living room and sat on the couch, scowling. Her grandmother rummaged in the kitchen and then came out with two glasses. Instead of her normal tea, she poured herself a whiskey. And then poured one for Isa as well, handing it to her with a look that dared Isa to refuse it.
"Do you know how old I am?"
Isa blinked, not expecting that question. "Uh, of course. You're seventy-five."
"Wrong," her grandmother said flatly. "I'm a hundred and twenty-six. I was born August second, 1882, in New Orleans, not Yonkers. When my mother ran off before my sixteenth birthday, I had no way to support myself except one—prostitution." She ignored Isa's gasp. "I started off on the streets, but then worked my way up to a nice room on Basin Street