chapter Fifteen
Roberto's bodyguard, the one who had shot Nate, opened the door for her at Roberto's suite.
Gwenna was so furious she reached up and slapped him straight across the face. She had never hit another human being in her life, but it felt pretty damn satisfying.
"Ow," His head snapped back and he glared at her. "What was that for?"
"For strolling up and shooting my boyfriend in cold blood."
"I was just doing what I was told," Smith said sullenly.
"Well, maybe you should try thinking for yourself once in a while."
Smith looked confused as to how to even respond to that, let alone do it. He just stared at her.
But Gwenna shifted her attention to Roberto, who was entering the room with a buxom blonde wearing tight jeans and a tank top, clinging to his arm. "Are you harassing my help?"
It was a mere shadow of what she felt like doing to Roberto. "I'm just offering Smith my opinion. Who's your little friend, Roberto?"
"Oh." Roberto glanced at the woman like he'd just realized she existed. "This is Katie. Katie, this is my ex-wife, Gwenna."
But the blonde frowned. "My name's not Katie. It's Sarah."
Gwenna rolled her eyes in disgust.
"Are you sure?" Roberto asked, studying Sarah's face. He even glanced at her backside. "I could have sworn you were… well, never mind. Sarah or Katie, whatever."
"So you get to do this," Gwenna said, waving her hand at Katie-Sarah. "But you couldn't let me date? Not even after all this time, not after the way I was completely and totally faithful to you. You can screw everything that walks but I'm not entitled to one speck of happiness with another man? You are a selfish, cruel bastard."
"I'm selfish because I want to love you? You know I'd ditch Katie in a second if I thought you'd come back to me. I only want you, and we belong together."
Sarah's mouth dropped open. "What's going on here? Maybe I should leave. You promised me we'd have fun and I'm not having fun."
Did Gwenna care? "There's the door."
With a sniff, Sarah grabbed her purse off the console table and started for the door. But on the way, she intentionally slammed into Gwenna with her shoulder, knocking her off balance.
Gwenna stumbled but recovered and glared at the mortal girl. "Watch it."
"Make me."
Someone obviously had a lot of bar brawling experience. Sarah looked eager to go a round. But little did she know Gwenna was one seriously steamed vampire. She felt capable of outbitching the best of them. "Do not mess with me. I am absolutely not in the mood."
But Sarah couldn't take a hint. She reached out and shoved Gwenna.
You know, there was really only just so much she could tolerate. Before Sarah could even blink, Gwenna twisted her arm behind her back and marched her to the front door. She opened it with her right hand and shoved Sarah out into the hall with her left. Then slammed the door shut.
Roberto was fighting a grin when she turned back to him. "Don't smirk at me!" she snapped. "I am only going to ask you once. What was your purpose in having those boys on the loop killed?"
His smiled disappeared. "What loop? I don't know what you're talking about."
Knowing Roberto was generally too smug to bother hiding his misdeeds, she wondered why he was denying it. Unless he hadn't actually ordered Ringo to kill Andrew, Johnny, and Gregor. Roberto did look legitimately confused.
"The boys from the slayers' loop. And Gregor Chechikov."
"Chechikov is dead ? Who told you that?"
"Alexis. Gregor's body was found by the pool at the Ava. Are you honestly telling me you didn't know that?"
"No." Roberto's face had got pale and still. "That must be why Carrick's called me three times. I was ignoring his calls because I was, uh, busy."
"Yes, I imagine you were." Gwenna crossed her arms over her chest. "Katie-Sarah looks like a handful."
"Jealous?"
He wished. "Hardly. Now be honest with me, Roberto. Did you have anything to do with Gregor's death?"
"No, damn it. I had no idea the bastard was dead until you just told me."
She couldn't fathom why she would ever believe a word that came from his mouth, but after nine hundred years of knowledge of his character, expressions, and body language, she was certain he was telling the truth. "Did you tell Smith to shoot Nate?"
Roberto rammed his hands in his pants pockets and looked at the floor. "Yes."
At least he didn't look proud of the fact. Though she still felt repelled by his behavior. And so, so sorry that Nate had paid the price for her relationship with Roberto. "Did you introduce Ringo Columbia to drug blood?"
"I offered him a choice. He took the heroin with no encouragement from me."
"Did you have Kelsey shot last year?"
"Not intentionally. She was collateral damage."
Gwenna was disgusted.
"You do realize that I disapprove of all those actions." His chin lifted up. "Yes."
"Which means that inherently we have an entirely different set of beliefs by which we live our lives."
"Possibly."
"And therefore it is impossible for us to coexist in a mutually satisfying and healthy adult relationship."
His arm dropped. "If you would just—"
She cut him off. "Shh. Come now, be honest. You've been doing an excellent job of it so far in this conversation."
"Gwenna." Argumentative tone shifted to discouragement as Roberto's shoulders drooped. "Don't do this. Come home to me. Let me love you."
Taking a deep breath, she shook her head. "You're not going to love me when you hear what I've kept from you."
"Kept from me?" His disdain was back. "What? A boyfriend before this one? That doesn't bother me."
"No." Gwenna ran her hands down the front of her dress and forced herself to maintain eye contact with him. This needed to be said and she would not cower. He was entitled to the truth as much as she was. "Do you remember when we met? The first time?"
"Of course. You were playing the harp when I came into the hall." He smiled. "That day changed my life."
"Mine, too. And after that… after we had made love that first time, when you left me…"
"I was coming back," he said, his voice soft. "I was always coming back. I had to go to Italy to claim some property. If Ethan had been home, I would have married you before I left, but I wanted to do the proper thing. I wanted your brother's permission. Then I came back and was told you had died. No one told me Ethan had turned you until three centuries later when we met again in Italy."
"There was something else you weren't told. I didn't die of a fever. I died immediately after childbirth." She waited for that to sink in.
His jaw dropped. "Are you saying you were pregnant when I left? That you died giving birth to our child?"
"Yes. I bled out after our daughter was born and Ethan turned me into a vampire."
"I'm sorry. I had no idea. None."
"I know."
"It was a daughter? She was stillborn?"
Roberto was moving to reach for her, but Gwenna evaded his touch. She wasn't done. "Yes, a girl. Isabel. And she was not stillborn. In fact, she lived to the age of twenty-five."
That was a rather priceless look on Roberto's face. "What? Explain yourself, Gwenna."
So Gwenna did. She told Roberto about Isabel. About her life. Her death. What she had sounded like, looked like, acted like.
"I wish we'd had photography in those days. I would give anything to have a picture of her," she said, after she'd covered the basics, and was waiting for Roberto to say something. Yell at her. Condemn her. Make her cry.
His face was stricken. And he did something she could never have expected. His voice wobbled and said, "At least you know what she looked like at all. You took even that from me."
"I didn't know where to find you."
"But you could have told me later."
"Yes, I could have." Gwenna hugged her arms to herself. "So we're both flawed."
"And this is good-bye."
"What?" She looked at him in confusion.
"Good-bye, Gwenna. I need you to leave."
Roberto wasn't looking at her. And she realized that this was it. He had made the decision to stop pursuing her.
Immense relief washed over her. There was a sadness, too, for all they had shared, and all the mistakes they had made. But mostly, she felt empowered with knowing that she had told the truth, stood up to Roberto in essence by not fearing his reaction, and had ultimately won her freedom.
"Good-bye," she said, reaching out and touching his arm.
Then she left the Venetian and went to find Kelsey Columbia.
Gwenna rang Kelsey on her cell phone as she went down to the parking garage to collect the car she'd borrowed from Ethan. She needed to warn Kelsey to stay away from Ringo. If Roberto hadn't ordered hits on the slayer members, then someone did. Or Ringo had acted alone.
But somehow Gwenna thought Ringo didn't have convictions or passions or a plan. He merely acted in the interest of making money, to buy his drugs. Either way, Gwenna wanted to make sure Kelsey didn't renew any contact with him. He was potentially a very dangerous man.
"Hello?" Kelsey answered on the fourth ring.
"Kelsey, it's Gwenna."
"Hey, Gwen, what's up?"
"Listen, are you alone? Or are you with that David Foster guy still?" Alexis had told her Kelsey had gone home with the bass player from The Impalers. Gwenna had a vague memory of a charming smile when he'd seen them leap up onstage, but they hadn't been formally introduced.
"Why would I be with Davey?" Kelsey sounded genuinely puzzled. "I'm at home with Ringo."
"What?" Gwenna dropped the car keys as she tried to unlock the doors. "Why? You left him."
"We're back together."
"But… he tried to prostitute you for drugs. You left and you were going to play tambourine for The Impalers." Shit. Ringo was probably sitting in the room right behind Kelsey. How on earth could she warn her the man was a murderer with him listening to every word Kelsey spoke?
"Oh, that wasn't going to pan out. Davey only said yes to get in my pants."
It continued to amaze Gwenna that Kelsey was almost always actually paying attention. She looked and sounded ditzy, but she was usually spot on about people. "Can I meet you somewhere? I need to chat with you."
"Right now?" Kelsey sounded doubtful. "We're kind of making up here, Gwen. I'd like to hang out with Ringo if you don't mind."
"It's really, really, really important. It will only take ten minutes, I promise. Meet me at the fountain in the lobby of the Ava in fifteen minutes, okay?"
"Alright." Kelsey still sounded skeptical.
"I need sexual advice," Gwenna lied, feeling a little desperate. "I don't think I'm making Nate happy."
"Oooohhh. Okay, sweetie, I'll be there. I have a book and a DVD I'll bring for you."
"Brilliant." Gwenna only hoped it wasn't a home recording.
Nate was debating going back to his place and passing out when he recognized a familiar face behind the yellow tape. Wonderful. Just what he needed to complete his day from hell— Gwenna's ex-husband arguing with the officer guarding the area. Yeah, he needed this guy around like a fucking hole in his head.
Still feeling less than one hundred percent, Nate went over and eyed Donatelli. "What do you need, Donatelli?"
The man's eyes widened and he let out a snort. "I should have known. Of course Gwenna wouldn't let it alone. She saved your sorry ass, didn't she?"
"Saved me from what?" Nate waved the officer off.
"Death. Or did the bullet miss?"
"What are you talking about?" Not in the mood to play head games, Nate started to move away, though he did think it was odd that Donatelli would mention getting shot after Nate's strange dream. "You need to stay away from this crime scene or I'll get a lot of enjoyment from throwing you out of this hotel."
"I heard you need an ID on the victim. I believe I can be of assistance."
"Oh, yeah?" Nate eyeballed him. "Who told you that?"
"Ethan Carrick. One of his security men overheard your team mention Gregor Chechikov… I have known Gregor for a number of years. I'm sure I could tell you conclusively if the victim is Gregor or not."
Interesting that Ethan Carrick had communicated that information to Donatelli after he had sworn he did not know the victim by sight or by name. It made Nate question the integrity of Gwenna's brother, too, and wonder just how he had earned all his giant piles of money. He had no doubt that Donatelli knew Chechikov. Nate was guessing they both had a lot of mutual acquaintances in the Mafia. What was interesting was that Donatelli would seek him out and confirm the relationship when it wasn't necessary.
"Fine. Come on over and take a quick look." He was curious what kind of reaction Donatelli would have, because he was fairly certain the victim was Gregor Chechikov based on his passport picture tucked into his jacket.
"How did he die, by the way?"
"I'm not at liberty to say."
Donatelli followed him. "Has anyone contacted his wife?"
"No. Any idea who his wife might be? We haven't found a next of kin yet."
"Her name is Sasha Chechikov. She's very young, early twenties. Very beautiful. I'm sure she'll be quite devastated to learn she's a widow." This was clearly sarcasm given the smirk on Donatelli's face.
"Does she live in Vegas?"
"She and Gregor have been here for the last six months, though I don't believe Gregor intended the move to be permanent. It was just a temporary move for business reasons. They've been living at the Bellagio."
"Thanks." Nate led Donatelli to the brawny Russian still lying on a chaise where the killer had left him. It was starting to really infuriate Nate that the deaths were piling up so quickly, and there was no time even to get physical evidence analyzed before the next victim turned up. The killer was arrogant and clearly very driven to commit his crimes.
If Gwenna was right, and his intent was to rile up the faux slayers, then three deaths immediately ought to do it. Which might lead to more murders. Though Nate found it hard to believe a Russian mobster was on a vampire slayers' loop. They hadn't uncovered his name at present, and they had two-thirds of the members identified.
"Here he is." Nate took a deep breath. He still wasn't feeling all that great, and the overwhelming stench of death that wafted up from the victim was making his stomach churn again. While Nate wouldn't say he was used to the odor of death, he'd been exposed to his fair share of it, many victims in far worse shape than the guy in front of him. Yet for some reason tonight it seemed thick and noxious, crawling up his nostrils, tightening his gut, and making his gums itch.
"That's Chechikov." Donatelli raised an eyebrow. "He's looked better, but it's definitely him. Wonder who he pissed off this time."
Clearly Donatelli and Chechikov hadn't been great pals. The guy didn't look broken up in the least. "So you're saying he had a lot of enemies?"
"Oh, yeah. A lot that go back centuries."
"Centuries? Like a family feud?" Nate grabbed the back of a pool chair, struggling to keep from getting sick or going down and kissing the concrete.
"If you need to feed, why don't you go inside and ask Carrick for some blood?"
Nate felt saliva puddle in his mouth and his stomach burned, as he watched Donatelli in confusion. "What?"
They stared at each other, Donatelli's brow furrowed, Nate getting dizzy.
"She didn't tell you, did she?" Donatelli asked.
"Who tell me what?"
"Gwenna. That she turned you into a vampire."
The words took a second to process their way through Nate's foggy brain. "A vampire… you're insane."
"No. But I am a vampire. As is Gwenna. And now are you. I ordered you killed, and you took a bullet in the garage at the Ava from one of my men. You died. Gwenna turned you, something I hadn't intended to happen. And now it seems she's lied to you."
Nate just stood there, feeling a full sentence behind Donatelli's convoluted explanation. Vampires were not real. Yet there seemed to be a whole lot of people who thought they were. "You know what, it's time for you to leave." He didn't have time to listen to that crap. Even if Donatelli had somehow managed to describe Nate's dream. That was just a freaky coincidence.
And he needed to get home and to bed before he passed out on the pavement.
"I'm leaving. But before I go, turn around with me and look in the pool. Neither one of us has a reflection."
If he had been himself, Nate would have reached the point where he just grabbed Donatelli by the collar and bodily removed him. But he was sick as a dog and brain dead, so he turned automatically, his skin clammy and everything sharp and focused, a slight buzzing in his ears.
Huh. He didn't have a reflection. That was fucking weird. Especially considering the evidence bag in his hand did. As did the chair behind him.
"This is vampire business," Donatelli said, gesturing to Chechikov. "The police will never solve the crime." He then held the cup he'd been carrying around toward Nate. "Have a drink before you drop, then I suggest you go find Gwenna and ask her why she would turn you and yet leave you without the knowledge to survive."
The cup Donatelli had handed him smelled fantastic. Sweet. Necessary. He shouldn't touch it since it had been handed to him by a crazy man, but he was beyond thirsty and he couldn't control himself. Nate tipped it back and drank it all in one swallow. It was the same taste and consistency of what Gwenna had given him, and it had the same effect. He felt immediately better.
"What is this?" Prying the lid off, he glanced inside. It was red, staining the sides, and it smelled like…
"Blood."
It was. And Nate felt panic rise in his throat.
He needed to find Gwenna.