chapter Fourteen
"Where's my husband?" Sasha asked.
Ringo took a step back, hand holding on to the knife she'd driven into his chest. It wouldn't kill him, but it hurt like a mother and he wanted it out. And then he was going to stab the crazy bitch in front of him with it.
"I don't know where your husband is and it's not my problem if you've lost him." The knife handle was slick with his blood and he couldn't get a good grip on it to tug it out.
This was so typical of women. Constantly playing head games. And if the dumb broad thought he was going to die from a knife to the heart, she was about to get a little reality check. He didn't appreciate the blood loss, but he could take her down in about half a second, given she was mortal and he was a vampire.
"He has been missing since yesterday and you know where he is. You are on the loop, yes?" she asked.
Man, it was crazy how excellent her English was given that for months she'd been claiming not to understand a word of it. Ringo shook his head, getting a little annoyed that he couldn't get the knife out. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"I promise, we can work an arrangement, you and I. But you have to tell me where he is. And help me get to Carrick's sister."
"Carrick's sister?" What the fuck was she talking about? "What does Gwenna have to do with anything? I'm sorry, you've totally lost me and I've decided I don't give a shit about any of this." He was quitting. A little cash and a piece of ass were not worth this aggravation. He wasn't feeling all that great anyway. He wanted to get back to his apartment and drink some blood, take the last of the heroin he had. That would even him out, because he was really starting to feel like crap. His chest was agonizing, his stomach was revolting, and the room was spinning a little.
Ringo shoved past her, heading for the front door.
She ran and threw herself in front of it, blocking his exit, her chest heaving, expression crazed. "No! You cannot leave."
"Who's going to stop me?" She was married to a vampire. She had to know he could snap her like a pencil. Though now the room was really dancing in front of his eyes, spotted and dark. Ringo shook his head hard to clear it.
"You're dying, you know," she said.
"I don't think so." But he felt something like panic, and he renewed his efforts to pry the hot, wet knife handle out.
"Yes, you are." Her face wavered in front of him, but he could see her conviction, her revulsion. "That knife has a wooden tip to its blade. You cannot retract it yourself. It requires someone else to pull wood out of a vampire, and I am not going to do it."
Well, that threw a fucking monkey wrench in his day.
There was a knock on the door right behind Sasha's back, and Ringo was instantly aware that it was his wife standing there. He could smell her vanilla lotion scent and feel her anxiety. Sasha didn't open the door, but charged at him full force, knocking him to the ground, her hand shoving and pushing at the knife, driving it deeper.
Ringo's chest exploded in pain and he let out a yell, trying to toss Sasha off, but discovering that his arms didn't seem to work anymore. He was pinned, everything dark and hazy, his body wracked with pain, his brain scattering around, trying to find a solution, but not coming up with any sort of plan.
Then the door crashed open and he heard Kelsey's voice. "Get your slutty Russian hands off my man."
Sasha went backward, completely disappearing, and Kelsey's head bent over him.
"Hey, babe," he said, trying to smile, relief coursing through him. "I am really friggin' glad to see you."
With one swift motion she yanked the knife out of his chest and pressed the open wound with the material of his T-shirt. She bit her lip, tears in her eyes. "Damn it, Ringo, why did you do this?"
Like he stabbed himself? Having the knife gone gave him instant relief from the excruciating pain, though he still felt numb and disoriented. He swallowed hard, reaching out to flick his finger on her bottom lip. "Shit, Kels, I didn't do this on purpose. I had no idea the bitch was crazy."
She sighed and caressed his cheek. He liked her soft touch on his skin. "I miss you," he told her. "Come home."
"We have serious issues we need to work out," she said sternly, right before she kissed him.
"What issues? The only issue is that you left me." He was still ticked about that.
But Kelsey pulled back. And when she did, Ringo saw his brother Kyle standing behind her.
Jesus Christ. Ringo lifted his hand, wanting to touch Kyle, whose mouth was moving as if he were speaking, but there was no sound. Kyle's hands were on Kelsey's shoulders.
When Ringo sat up and tentatively swiped at the spot where Kyle's hand was, he felt nothing but air. His brother was gone.
Kelsey didn't seem to notice. She just took his raised hand and squeezed it. "You have to get clean and stay clean."
The heroin felt like the last of Ringo's worries at the moment. He craned his neck to see around her. "Where's Sasha?"
"On the floor. I accidentally knocked her unconscious."
He suspected there was nothing accidental about it. But he was damn glad for his wife's timing. "How did you know I was here?"
"Kyle told me."
Gwenna booted up the computer in the corner of Nate's living room. He was still sleeping soundly, and she could get online and check her e-mail while keeping an eye on him. She wasn't surprised to immediately see an e-mail from Slash.
I didn't see you at the concert. Were you there?
Feeling impatient as hell with Slash, Gwenna replied:
Yes, but I left early. Though how were you going to find me anyway? You don't know what I look like. Are you sure you're really even in Vegas?
Testy, but oh, well. She was over Slash and his vague e-mails. She could really care less if he was a lunatic killer. Let him show his true colors if he was, damn it. Clicking on to the next e-mail, she saw FoxyKyle had posted to the loop.
That name was just so irritating. Foxy didn't have anything of import to say, just a mention that she would be off-line for a few days. Though when Gwenna thought about it, that could potentially be considered odd. Foxy was always online, for the most part. Usually a day didn't go by without at least one post from her.
Gwenna was suddenly determined to figure out who FoxyKyle was. She started by googling Foxy's user name and working backward through the pages. Then just the e-mail address. A half an hour and dozens of pages later, Gwenna found a student roster for UNLV from 2005 with Foxy's e-mail address listed next to the student Kyle Martin. So she researched Kyle Martin and found that he had been shot and killed by a burglar in California while visiting his brother. The brother's name was Ringo Columbia.
Bloody hell. Gwenna pushed her chair back and stood up, still reading the screen. The brother was mentioned as being a former Marine. But that was it. Nothing to indicate it was anything other than a terrible accident, despite the fact that the burglar was never apprehended. And why was she just now remembering that Kelsey occasionally called Ringo Kyle? It was some kind of pet name she had for him, which was in fact his dead brother's name. That struck Gwenna as rather appalling now that she understood the significance.
Leaning on the desk, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. If Kyle was dead, it only stood to reason that the person with access to his e-mail account would be his brother. Andrew and Johnny had been drained of their blood and stuffed in out-of-the-way corners. Ringo Columbia was a vampire and an assassin. He knew how to kill and did it easily, without remorse.
But would he do it alone?
Or on someone's orders?
Gwenna turned the computer off without properly shutting it down. She just flicked the switch, checked on Nate to make sure he was resting comfortably, and headed out the back door, stepping carefully over the broken glass.
There were a few people she needed to talk to and it couldn't wait.
Nate woke up when his cell phone rang. He rolled on his side, determined to ignore it. He felt sluggish and hot, mouth dry and muscles stiff, and he wasn't exactly sure why he was on the couch instead of in bed. His house phone starting ringing as he dozed off. Then his cell phone again.
He sat up with a huge effort and decided if that was his mother, he was going to divorce his parents. Though you probably couldn't do that at thirty-three years old.
Looking around for his cell phone, he spotted it on the coffee table, and leaned over with a groan to grab it. Every inch of him hurt like hell. "Yeah?"
"Hey, it's Jim. You need to get down here. We've got ourselves another body."
Nate rubbed his head, hard, in an attempt to jump-start his brain. He still felt foggy and vague. Must be the result of the funeral and lack of sleep. "Shit. You're kidding me. Where?"
Speaking of where, where was Gwenna? Nate looked around his living room. He didn't see any sign of her. Nor did he remember taking her home. The last thing he could actually remember with any certainty was heading to the casino. Then he'd been asleep, dreaming he'd been shot.
Jesus. He must have really lit into the booze at the casino. Not cool.
Now he had a hangover and another dead body.
"Our boy's getting bold. This one was right out in the open, tossed into a lounge chair by the pool at the Ava hotel."
Nate snapped wide awake, fear gripping his gut. "Was the victim male or female?"
"Male. But this dude's older. Forties. And a big guy. It couldn't have been an easy thing catching him off guard, whacking him, and plopping him by the pool."
It wasn't Gwenna. That's all Nate really heard. Taking a deep breath, he stood, his stomach burning. He really felt like shit.
"Give me twenty minutes to get there." He needed to drink about a gallon of coffee first. "And what time is it anyway?"
"Aahh… eleven twelve p.m."
"Are you serious?" How could he have had time to get shit-faced at the casino and pass out and still be home by eleven? That was freaking pathetic. "And just so you know, Gwenna Carrick and I were at the Ava around five o'clock today. She lives there. Her brother owns it."
"Now why does that not surprise me?" Jim said wryly. "Your chickie pops up everywhere there's a body, Thomas. Might be a really good idea for you to stay away from her while we're piecing this thing together."
That would be the logical thing to do. Nate scratched his chest. He had a nagging itch right around his pectoral, left side, and for whatever reason he wasn't wearing a shirt. It was really irritating to him that he couldn't remember anything. Especially now that the cop in him was silently considering that maybe he'd been drugged.
But love wasn't logical. And he was pretty damn sure he was in love with Gwenna Carrick. "Yeah, I hear ya." That was nice and noncommittal. Because while he knew he shouldn't see Gwenna, he wasn't at all sure he could go cold turkey and cut her off.
"Another thing. Latest victim still had his wallet in his pocket. If we can believe the ID he was carrying, his name's Gregor Chechikov. Just from doing a little preliminary research in the last thirty minutes, we've already turned up a conviction in Chechikov's history. Seems he had some Russian Mafia connections and got caught in a sweep in New York ten years ago, though he never did any time. He plea-bargained and went home to the Motherland."
"This guy's mob? Fuck." Nate stood up, shook out his sore legs, and walked slowly to the kitchen to start his coffee. "Do me a favor and start a search on a guy named Roberto Donatelli. See what you turn up."
"Sure. Who is he?"
"He's Gwenna Carrick's ex-husband."
"Mr. Carrick, we have a bit of a problem."
Ethan turned away from his computer screen in his office and gave Sam, his head of hotel security, his full attention. "What now?" He already had his casino crawling with cops after a sanitation worker had gone to strain the pool at its 9 p.m. closing and found a dead body sitting in a goddamn lounge chair.
A body that Ethan knew immediately on sight was Gregor Chechikov, though he had played dumb. There was nothing to connect him to Chechikov in the mortal world, and if he admitted to knowing the victim, it would only complicate their investigation. Though it was unlikely they would ever solve the crime.
This was an internal vampire affair. And a huge problem. Someone had known Chechikov was no longer vampire, but returned mortal by Atelier's vampire vaccine. They had known that and killed him. Or maybe they hadn't known why, they had just ascertained he was mortal and took advantage of the fact. Either way, someone had wanted to kill a man who was something of a cult classic in vampire culture.
His death was going to infuriate a large number of vamps. Not a great way to start a new term as president. Not to mention he was mad as hell that, despite recent security increases, someone had managed to plant a body on his property. "When do the police expect to be done by the pool?"
"They'll probably be here all night. And we'll have to keep the pool closed tomorrow."
"Wonderful." He'd already called his secretary in to have her schedule an emergency meeting with his cabinet members to discuss the situation. "So I'm sorry, what's the new problem?"
Sam handed him a DVD. "Why don't you pop that into your computer and take a look. It's the security tape from this afternoon of the parking garage."
Ethan did as suggested and a minute later he was staring at the empty parking garage, a red Toyota cruising down the row of cars. "What am I looking for?"
"May I?" Sam leaned over and moved the cursor to speed the video up. He stopped it. "Watch the Ford Explorer."
Studying the black-and-white images, Ethan watched a man get out of the Explorer, come around to the passenger side, and open the door. Presumably it was either to let a woman out, or to get something from his truck, but they could see clearly into the vehicle and there was nothing there. There was also something familiar about the guy.
"Do I know this guy? I think I've seen him before."
"He's, uh, a friend of Ms. Carrick's."
That's who he was. Gwenna's mortal boyfriend. "So are you assuming he's driving Gwenna home here?" That wasn't all that newsworthy, in Ethan's opinion.
"Yes. But watch."
And Ethan saw Gwenna's friend take a bullet in his back, pitch forward, and get hauled into the truck from invisible hands. "Bloody hell. That's Gwenna driving him away, isn't it? And who shot him?"
"Vampire. He's not on the tape. Though the guy in the booth down there remembers Gwenna leaving, driving erratically. Then right after her was a big guy he described in good detail, because he and the guy had a conversation about female drivers as they watched Gwenna jump the curb."
"Does the guy sound like anyone we know?"
"It sounds a hell of a lot like one of Donatelli's employees to me. Though that's just speculation on my part. I didn't see him."
Ethan stopped the tape. "Damn it. That would be right up Donatelli's alley, wouldn't it? To kill Gwenna's boyfriend." Which wouldn't make Gwenna happy, which pissed Ethan off. Donatelli needed to leave her alone, once and for all.
Sam nodded. "Donatelli's never been right in the head when it came to Ms. Carrick."
"Where do you think Gwenna went?"
"No idea."
Ethan picked up the phone and dialed his wife. "Hey, it's me. Have you talked to Gwenna tonight?"
"No, but I know she was going to a funeral today with Nate Thomas, her hottie mortal boyfriend."
"Is that his name?"
"Yep. Why? Do you need to talk to Gwenna? I'll tell her to call you if I see her."
"Thanks, babe, I'll see you later. I love you."
Ethan hang up, not even waiting for Alexis's return endearment, which would get him in trouble, he was certain, but he was suddenly worried about Gwenna, Terrified she might have done something stupid. He stood up.
"Find Donatelli. I need to talk to him."
"Sure."
"And didn't you tell me the detectives on the scene downstairs were named Connors and Thomas?"
Sam pulled out his Palm and clicked on a few things. "Yeah. Detectives James Connors and Nathaniel Thomas. I met Connors. Big guy. Said his partner was on the way."
Shit. Fuck. Damn. Ethan rubbed his temples. "Well, guess what Gwenna's little mortal friend's name is? You know, the one we just watched on tape bite it by a bullet?"
Sam's eyes went wide. "You can't be serious."
"Oh, I am. Alexis just said his name is Nate Thomas. Which means Gwenna turned him vampire. And we have a fledgling vampire downstairs picking over Chechikov's body."
Gwenna held her breath until Alexis hung up the phone.
"That was Ethan, as I'm sure you guessed. He's looking for you."
"Thanks for not telling him I'm here."
"Yeah, well, you owe me big time. He's going to want to beat me when he figures out I lied to him."
Pacing back and forth in Alexis's apartment, Gwenna realized her feet hurt. She'd been wearing her heels from the funeral since early that morning. Her toes were pinched and she'd been up for twenty-four hours so she could attend Kyra's funeral with Nate. She was anxious, exhausted, strung out, mind racing in seventeen different directions. "I know. And I appreciate you putting yourself on the line for me. But the thing is, I have to keep Ethan out of this. First of all, it would be political suicide. But more important, this is between Roberto and myself. We have unfinished business that I need to take care of."
"I think you're making a mistake." Alexis sat at her dining room table and watched Gwenna, hand propping up her chin. "If this involves the slayers' loop in any way, Ethan needs to know. It will make him look like an ineffectual president. And you know what Donatelli is like. Confronting him alone is not a good idea."
Gwenna had told Alexis everything because she had needed a sounding board, someone to help her sort out the situation. But Alexis clearly wasn't seeing eye to eye with her. "Roberto would never hurt me."
"What if it's Donatelli who gave Ringo the orders to kill those guys?"
"I just don't see to what purpose that would serve Roberto. It's too risky and he's not stupid. He's in the perfect power position as vice president. Why would he jeopardize that?" It wasn't the way Roberto operated. He went for power, always power.
"Yeah, well, I can't even begin to guess what's going through Donatelli's head. But there was a little development in this whole thing tonight. Another body was found, and I can guarantee you this will send these murders straight to the front page of the Review-Journal ."
A chill went down Gwenna's spine. "Why?"
"Because the body was found right here at the pool at the Ava. And the victim is none other than Gregor Chechikov."
"What?" Gwenna stopped pacing and stared at Alexis. "Gregor? Oh, shit." That did point the finger rather blatantly at Roberto. Why she wanted it not to be him, she couldn't explain. But she had another more pressing thought anyway. "Are the police here?"
"Oh, yeah. All around the back. It's a mob scene, and I expect the media to show up at any given minute. A murder at a casino is news."
"I've got to go." Gwenna kicked off her heels. "Do you have sandals I can borrow?"
"Sure. In the front closet. Take your pick." Alexis narrowed her eyes. "But where are you going? You shouldn't see Donatelli alone. Take someone with you."
"I'm not going to see Roberto." Not yet, anyway. "I have to check on a friend."
"Didn't you just come from Nate's house?"
"Actually, that was earlier." And she had the horrible sinking feeling that he was no longer tucked up under a sheet on the sofa, but was downstairs rummaging through poolside evidence. "I went and saw Brittany and Corbin."
"Why? Did something happen to Ava?"
"No, of course not. I just had to ask Corbin something." Or more accurately, beg him. But it had worked. Corbin had given her one dose of his vampire vaccine.
She had the power to return Nate to his mortality.
But first she had to find him and make sure he wasn't wandering around as a fledgling vampire, utterly clueless as to what she'd made him.
Nate peeled off the latex gloves he'd been wearing and rubbed his forehead. God, his stomach hurt. It burned intensely, like he was hungry. Yet when he'd had some coffee and a bagel on the way over, he'd spent the next twenty minutes puking it all back up in the casino parking lot.
"You okay?" Connors asked him, moving past with a uniformed officer. "I saw you tossing your guts out back there."
"I think I have the stomach flu or something." He hoped. Because he didn't like the alternative—that Gwenna had drugged him. Which probably proved he'd been in police work too long if he could even consider that a possibility. But either way, he was finding it difficult to concentrate.
"Yeah, well, don't breathe on me. I don't want your fucking flu cooties."
"Thanks for the sympathy." Nate gripped the back of a pool chair when a hot wave of dizziness rolled over him. "Shit the bed, this sucks." He closed his eyes and took a deep breath in and out, his stomach churning painfully.
"Give us another thirty minutes and you can head on home. We'll have ourselves a big old sit-down tomorrow with all the medical evidence from our rapidly growing body count. We'll plan a strategy, which will include begging the department for some manpower to assist us. We can't follow up on all three of these by ourselves."
At the moment, just standing felt like a challenge to Nate. And Jim smelled funny to him, sort of sour and sweaty, nauseating. Nate leaned over and threw up again, aiming for the potted plant on the concrete sidewalk.
"Thomas! You're contaminating a crime scene. God, go home." Jim grabbed his arm and pulled him along the pavement. Then jerked him to a halt again.
Nate was stumbling to keep up, concentrating on keeping one foot in front of the other, his eyes on the ground.
"Uh-oh. Here's trouble," Jim muttered. Then louder, "You're not allowed in here. You have to stay behind the tape, miss."
Nate forced his head up. He knew it was Gwenna. He could smell her skin, the strawberry lotion she used on her hands, and he could hear her heart pounding anxiously.
Her heartbeat? Nate shook his head to clear all the sounds, the crazy thoughts. What the fuck was the matter with him? His teeth hurt, right in front. "Gwenna, go back upstairs. I'll call you later."
She reached across the crime-scene tape and ran a cool hand over his forehead. "I'm heading out to run an errand, but I need to talk to you."
Nate pulled away. "Don't touch me, babe, I have the flu. I don't want you to catch it."
"Have a sip of this." Gwenna put a takeout cup with a straw in his hand. "It will make you feel better. Then when you're done here with Gregor, call me so we can chat."
"I don't think I should drink anything. My stomach will just toss it back up." But it did feel cool in his hand, and it smelled sweet. "What is it?"
"It's a British cure-all. Just drink it."
She looked so worried about him that Nate sipped from the cup, sucking hard on the straw. The drink moved over his tongue, immediately soothing his dry mouth. It hit his gut like water on a smoldering fire. "Hey, that's pretty good." He took another sip and realized that he had drained the whole cup in about two seconds.
The burning in his gut abated and his teeth stopped throbbing. "Thanks. That helped."
Taking the empty cup back, Gwenna looked him straight in the eye, leaning over the crime-scene tape, and whispered, "Would it be insane and completely inappropriate to say that I'm falling in love with you?"
Those words were as soothing as her cure-all drink. "No." He squeezed her hand. "It wouldn't be crazy. Because I'm falling in love with you, too."
She kissed him before he could protest she'd catch his germs. "Be safe. I'll see you later."
In his foggy state, Nate realized something as he watched her beautiful figure turn and walk away. She had said she was running an errand. Where the hell was Gwenna going at midnight?
And had she mentioned the victim by name?
Clenching his fists, Nate wiped his sweaty forehead and went to find Jim. They had a big problem.
The woman he was most likely in love with was knee deep in what were potentially mob murders.
That ought to do wonders for his career.