Chapter 4
I smelled Vinny before I heard him. “Wake up, cupcake.” He still had that odd mix of old wood and grass going for him. Only now, he had the body of a French maid from the Playboy Mansion.
“You like?” he asked, as I stared at the boobs practically popping out from under the lacy front of the dress. His voice was as gravelly as ever, only now he had cover model features, big doe eyes, and legs that wouldn’t quit. “I’m your housekeeper, Helga.”
“The garters are a bit much,” I remarked, climbing out of bed.
“Right-o. This coming from the fashion queen.”
“Don’t you start.”
He leaned up against the edge of the dresser. “Lucien has it so you’re gonna go over to that gal Tia’s house. Nine o’clock sharp.”
I checked the bedside clock. “Okay. I have a half hour.” Plenty of time.
“I paid her a visit last night.”
No wonder Lucien never went anywhere without Vinny. He was handy to have around. “Let me guess,” I said, “pizza delivery guy?”
“Nah.” He scratched at his ear. “These women don’t eat. Besides, I had to get on the inside.”
“Stranded motorist?”
He grinned. “She has a thing for hurt bunnies.”
Somehow I couldn’t picture Vinny as a fuzzy bunny.
“Anyhow, I checked her out good. She don’t seem to be working for anybody else. You might want to do your woo-woo thing”—he twirled a finger on the side of his head—“just in case.”
“Thanks,” I said. I fully intended to use everything I could on her—and the rest of the werewives.
A half hour later, I rang the doorbell at 12 Mysteria Lane. Tia Lovelace lived in a pink two-story flanked by climbing white roses and a generous front porch.
I was wearing a lovely orange pantsuit, perfect for concealing weapons. The pockets were big enough for my stun gun, I had my fixed-blade daggers tucked in the back and two pairs of handcuffs—one in each bra cup.
A dazzling auburn-haired were opened the door. She had the same pouty lips and impeccable skin as the rest, yet she seemed a little fresher than the others, more real.
“You must be Heather,” she said, treating me to an uneven smile.
“That’s Mitzy to you.”
“I didn’t get a chance to say hi last night,” she said shyly.
No kidding. “Lucien said you could help.” I didn’t need to elaborate. We both knew.
“Come in,” she said, standing behind the door while she opened it, as if she could disappear.
“Nice spread,” I said, if you liked peach and white. She led me into the most un-vampirish living room in the universe. It was sleek and clean. In fact, it would be very hard to hide a weapon in this place.
Still, as soon as my butt hit the couch, I leaned forward and drew my power up into my chest. “Tia,” I said as I felt it move through me, “why are you helping me?”
My head throbbed and my ears began to buzz. Her glossed lips parted and I could feel the taut pull of my powers, binding her to me.
“Have you seen yourself in the mirror?” she asked. “That vulture is going to tear you apart.”
“Okay, so I had a few problems last night,” I admitted. We’d work on that later. I needed to know her connection to Lucien.
Tia furrowed her brow. “A few problems? Red stilettos with a yellow peasant dress?”
Oh come on. “Red shoes are sassy.”
“You looked like an eighth-grade hooker.”
My temples ached. “Tell me what you really think,” I said, resenting my power for the first time.
But Tia was on a roll. “Francine is openly asking why a status-seeking vampire would marry you. It’s only a matter of time before you’re discovered.”
I focused on her, ignoring the pounding behind my eyes. “Why are you helping us?”
She pursed her lips. “I started this. I led the council to Marcos the gardener.”
I sat back. Well, that was news.
“Why?” I asked slowly.
“Sunny was my friend. She had her faults, but she was a good person.” She sighed. “I knew I could go to Detective Mead.” She crossed her long legs. “My husband trusts him.”
“Is he going to be able to work with Lucien as well?” It would be nice for Lucien to have an ally among the vampires.
“No.” Tia chewed at her lip. “My husband is asleep.”
“Well, sure,” I said. “It’s daytime.”
“No”—she wrung her hands—“Thomas has been asleep for the last six years.”
“In the ground?” I’d heard of vampires who did that.
“Here at home,” she said. “He’s very tired.”
“Obviously.” I didn’t know what else to say.
Tia gave a small smile. “Thomas would approve of my going to Lucien. He’s a good man.”
“Maybe.” I was the one asking the questions, and fighting a massive headache. It still didn’t explain why she’d called someone like Lucien in. “Do you know anyone who wanted to hurt Sunny?”
“No.”
“Did she have any enemies?”
“No.”
Damn. I couldn’t hold on much longer.
“How well did you know her again?”
“We saw them often. Sunny’s husband, Gaston, is business partners with my Thomas.”
She glanced over at a series of framed photographs crowding the top of a white baby grand piano. “Sunny was part of Francine’s circle. There were four of them. Now there are three.”
I tried to examine the photographs, but couldn’t without breaking contact with Tia. So instead, I asked, “Aren’t you part of the group?”
She folded her hands in her lap. “I don’t know.”
“How can you not know?”
“I’m the omega.”
I sat back and tried not to imagine what kind of hell it was to be Tia. Omegas were the lowest of the low. They were the ones who ate last, groveled most, and acted as the general whipping boys, and girls. And that was in what shifter society considered a normal functioning pack. I couldn’t imagine what it would be like to be an omega under a vulture like Francine.
Even though my head was pounding, I held the connection. “You don’t have to be the omega.” Or anywhere near Francine. “You can break out of this.”
She shook her head. “Have you ever tried to break rank in a pack?”
I rubbed at my temples, willing the pain away. I had and I’d failed. I broke contact. She was telling the truth.
“Thank you, Tia,” I said, meaning every word. “I know you can help me.”
“Yes.” She brought a trembling hand to her forehead. “I’m sorry. I feel a little dizzy.”
Join the club. I rooted around in my teeny yellow purse for Advil. My fingers clutched the small bottle and I stopped. “You know, Tia. I’d like to help you, too.”
She flashed an indulgent smile. “First things first.”
“No kidding.” I popped two Advil.
She went to the kitchen and returned with a glass of mineral water. “Here,” she said, handing it to me.
Well, that was nice.
“Heather,” she began, “I think perhaps you may want to look at new eye makeup.”
“I just bought some.” Too bad I didn’t have it with me. I tossed my purse onto the ground. It would never fit. “I have a whole kit full of sparkly blue and red and yellow... .” Her eyes widened as I ticked them off, one by one. “What? No good?”
She faltered for a moment, deciding what to say. I already missed the truthful Tia, but frankly, my head couldn’t take any more. “You may want to consider a more subtle color palette.”
I looked around her living room. “What? Like white?”
She almost cringed. I could tell she wanted to. Good. Maybe I could bring this girl out of her shell. “Look, why don’t you show me? We’ll take a field trip.”
Tia broke out into a shy smile. “Yes.” She lowered her eyes. “If you really want to go with me.”
“Do you have a car?” I asked, because I didn’t. Well, unless I wanted to share this part of the journey with Vinny the chauffeur/ bunny /cross-dressing housekeeper.
“I do,” Tia said, reaching for an immense pink bag that could have easily fit a bowling ball or three.
“That’s in style?” I asked, imagining all the weapons I could stuff into that puppy.
“Sure,” she said, “this is the new Christian Louboutin Sylvia Large Softy Calf Hobo bag.” A flicker of doubt crossed her delicate features before she pressed ahead. “See how it matches my yellow and black round-toe T-strap shoes?”
“No.” I honestly didn’t.
Confidence crept into her tone. “You will.”
“Then lead the way, Kemo Sabe,” I said, whisking her to the door, Finnegan’s American Express card burning a hole in my pocket, “I can be the Eliza Doolittle to your Henry Higgins.”
She opened the passenger door of her white Mercedes convertible before she rushed around to open her own. “If you want, I could even coordinate some outfits for you.”
I popped two more Advil as I slid into the car. “You could match them for me and tell me what to wear: outfits A, B, C... .”
“You don’t need that much help,” Tia protested, settling in next to me.
“Stop lying,” I told her, slamming my own door shut. “You don’t have to do that with me.”