chapter Three
Nate Thomas let out a ragged laugh, dragging his hand over his mouth. God, like his day didn't suck enough already, now he was almost caught crying like a baby by the blonde from the train station.
But at least she'd picked up on his discomfort and had let it drop. It didn't sound like she was going to ask why he was just about blubbering on the elevator.
"Why didn't you answer your phone?" he asked, noting the way she gripped it so tightly her knuckles were white.
It calmed him down to study her, to assess her behavior, to wonder what she was doing at the hospital, and how she might be connected to the victim at the train station. Something about her was off, and he didn't understand what it was. And puzzling her out could help him to forget why he was at the hospital himself.
She glanced down at her cell phone and shook her head. "It's someone I don't want to talk to."
Someone she was angry with, if the pink spots of color on her cheeks were any indication. Her long wavy hair was also mussed, like she had tucked it back in irritation.
"Who? Your mother?" That was usually the person who pissed him off.
She gave a small shake of her head. "I wish." She hesitated for a fraction of a second, than said, "It's my ex-husband."
"Ah." That would explain her defensive posture—straight back, chin high, shoulders squared.
The door opened on the ground floor, but she didn't get off the elevator. "We're here," he told her, gesturing to the lobby, not liking the way she was looking at him.
Like she no longer saw him as intimidating, an authority figure, but instead with pity.
"I'm sorry," she said. "Whatever it is, I'm sorry for it."
He didn't pretend to misunderstand. He was too raw, too close to the edge. "Yeah, me, too."
She hesitated again, but then just stepped out of the elevator, turning her back to him. Her phone rang again in her hand. "Shit," she whispered, as her shoulders suddenly crumpled forward.
Nate moved up next to her. "What does he want?" he asked, not quite ready to leave. When he walked out that door, it would be real, and he didn't want to deal with reality just yet. And he could argue with himself that the blonde could help him solve a murder. Hell, the blonde just might be the murderer, though every gut instinct he had screamed that wasn't even close to the truth.
"He wants me back." She glanced over at him, her blue eyes sad, troubled. "He's never been good at taking no for an answer."
There was a mix of both exasperation and fear in her voice. It bothered him. She was a very petite, fragile-looking woman, young. Mid-twenties at most. A part of her worried that her ex could hurt her, he could sense that. And he was good at assessing people. It was half his job as a homicide detective with the Las Vegas Metro Police. An overzealous ex might also explain why she'd taken to the fantasy of a vampire slayers' group on the Internet. It was a way to exercise her version of control.
"How long since you split up?"
She squeezed the phone again, and glanced at the display screen, frowning at whatever was there. "Three years." Flipping the phone open, she pushed some buttons. "He texted me a message this time."
Three years was a long time after a divorce for a guy to still be pursuing his ex. "What does he say?"
Shrugging, she closed the phone and put it in her purse. "It's nothing. He just wants me to call him."
"He just wrote 'call me'?"
"Yes. Well, he added a now to it, because it irritates him that I ignore him. Why?"
"It sounds like he's a problem." A problem that Nate understood. One he could deal with. What he couldn't deal with was the image embedded in his brain of his baby sister lying in that hospital bed, all the life, vitality, and essence gone from her.
"He is what he is. I'm used to it."
"But you're afraid of him, aren't you?" Nate shoved his hands in the pockets of his jeans and watched for her reaction to his question. She actually looked startled.
"No, I don't think so. Roberto would never hurt me, not physically, if that's what you mean." She tucked a strand of that pale wheat hair behind her ear. "But… he's very controlling. And what I think I'm afraid of is that when we're together, when we were married, I was willing to compromise what I thought was right because of him. He made me stretch my moral boundaries. Do you know what I mean?" She looked at him earnestly. "I don't want to be like that ever again."
Nate nodded, feeling his nerves settle, his near panic abating. He wasn't going to lose it, not right then anyway. He had a handle on it. "I know what you mean. We walk the line, and some people help us pull one way or the other."
"And we can't blame them really, we have to be responsible for ourselves, but we know it's wrong, and so it's better to stay away entirely." She shoved her cell phone in her purse, her previous bravado back.
Before he was even aware of what the hell he was doing, Nate said, "I'm headed to the coffee shop over there… care to join me?"
It wasn't the need for caffeine that had him craving coffee, but the desperate desire to stay away from his house, where Kyra's hospital bed loomed, and the pervasive sick smell clung to the carpet. He didn't want to go home and he didn't want to be alone. Gwenna Carrick looked like she needed company as much as he did. Despite her earlier words, he doubted she'd encountered a whole lot of dead bodies in her life, especially not one done up like a pretzel and crammed behind a ticket dispenser.
"Okay," she said without hesitation. But then she bit her lip and darted her eyes to the elevator.
"Are you here with someone?" He could read the signs, and he didn't want to cause her complications. His own selfish need for distraction wasn't justification for getting her in trouble with a boyfriend. Though he had to admit he was curious as to why she was at the hospital in the first place.
"No. My brother and I were both visiting a friend, but he came with his wife. He's just very protective of me."
Not protective enough, given her night's activities. "That's good and not so good, I bet. It's nice that he cares so much, but it probably cramps your style. Maybe he would have a point if he objected to you hanging out with a total stranger. You know, say at a coffee shop, or meeting up with someone you don't know in a random place like a monorail station."
She made that face again, that ridiculous-looking pout that showed her distaste. "True," she said with a smile. "But I'd love a cup of coffee anyway, so shall we?"
Nate had originally thought her accent was British, but the way she spoke her vowels made him question his original guess. There was something about her that Nate couldn't put his finger on… like all the pieces to her puzzle just didn't add up. His sense of logic, the detective part of his personality, wanted to figure out who exactly she was beyond his first assessment of dumb blonde.
"Sure." He gestured down the hall and she started walking next to him. "So, you have a friend who's sick?"
"No. Our friend, well, actually she's my brother's wife's sister, so my brother's sister-in-law, but definitely my friend…" She stopped talking and flushed a little. "God, I'm babbling. All I'm trying to say is that Brittany had a baby tonight and we were visiting her. There were some health concerns, so we're very excited that everything is fine. She had a girl."
For some reason, Nate actually felt a smile tug at his mouth at her explanation. "That's wonderful." And amazing that he could actually freaking mean it. There was something soothing in knowing that while his sister had been leaving the world, a baby had been entering it. Kyra would have appreciated that.
"It was a little odd, too, though, considering what I saw earlier… I felt, I don't know, unclean. Like I shouldn't touch that sweet little baby. God, that makes no sense, does it? Just ignore me." She rubbed her lip and studied a painting on the wall as they walked.
"Hey, I understand. I see a lot of death. Sometimes it's hard to cross back over." God knew he was having a hard time crawling back at that very moment.
"Why are you here?" Stopping outside the coffee shop, she studied him. Nate wanted to squirm under that scrutiny. He knew what he looked like, because he felt like it, too—total hell. It made him feel exposed to have her blue eyes probing over him, compassion on her face.
"It isn't for a good reason, is it?"
"No." Nate pulled in a breath and made himself say it. "My sister just died." His voice cracked but he held on, fighting off the tears, the feeling that if he let loose that tidal wave of grief, he would just go right under and drown.
Gwenna's eyes went wide. "Oh. I'm so, so sorry." She reached out and took his hand in hers. "They're empty words and they don't fix anything, but I mean it sincerely."
Her touch was comforting, firm, despite the fact that her fingers were small and thin. She was close to him, their clasped hands brushing his thigh, and her pale blue eyes stared up at him with compassion. "Thanks." He should say something else, do better than that, but he wasn't capable of anything more.
She squeezed his hand. "Maybe we should skip the coffee… maybe you should head home."
"No. I don't want to. I can't, you know what I'm saying?" Nate stroked his thumb over the back of her hand. It was smooth and very cool. There was something reassuring about her, her obvious femininity, delicateness soothing. "Have you ever lost someone you love?"
There was a slight nod, than she whispered, "Yes. I know exactly how you feel."
"Who did you lose?" he asked, which was rude, but he wanted to hear, wanted to know that someone understood the pain he felt, the grief he was trying so hard to control. It wasn't the kind of thing you vented with your buddies over a beer about. There wasn't anyone he could really talk to, just say what he felt with total honesty. But for some whacked-out reason, he was spilling it to this woman, and wanting answers.
"A sister. A brother. My mother." Then her eyes went wide, tears suddenly there, shiny and wet and agonized. "My daughter."
She might as well have kicked him in the gut. Nate felt horrible for asking, at the same time he felt a shocking sense of relief that she would, did understand. That he wasn't alone in his grief. But he couldn't fathom, absolutely couldn't get his head around losing so many people he cared about. And a child, a baby. His gut twisted at the thought.
"God, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked." With his free hand, he swiped at the tear that had fallen down her cheek with his thumb. "I can't imagine going through…" Nate looked at his thumb, suddenly distracted. Her tear wasn't clear, but a ruddy rust color, staining his skin. "Are you bleeding?"
"What?" Her expression was confused and she looked down at her arms and hands. "Where do you see blood?"
"On your face." He pulled his finger back so she could see. "It's like your tears are bloody." Which didn't sound healthy.
"Oh." She relaxed and waved her hand. "That's just normal for me. It's a genetic medical condition, nothing dangerous. But it's like when people have extreme sun sensitivity… I've been teased that I'm a vampire." She shrugged. "I know it's kind of nauseating, but it is what it is."
"A vampire, huh? Yet you're in the slayers' group." Nate wiped her cheek again, to show her it didn't bother him. He was just glad she wasn't injured in some way. Bleeding out your eyes sure in the hell didn't sound like a good thing. "So you must be a vampire playing both sides then. Have you come to suck my blood?"
Her head tilted and she gave him an intriguing, sly smile. "Only with your permission."
Ethan knew before he even got off the elevator that his sister was still in the hospital. He could sense her presence. And when the doors open, he smelled her vampire scent.
An apology was probably in order. Alexis had already told him as much, and he had a feeling his wife was right. For nine hundred years he had been criticizing Gwenna's involvement with Donatelli, and it had never done anything but drive her faster into his weasel arms. So maybe it was time for a new tactic.
He was scanning the lobby for her, preparing to be sheepish, when he spotted his little sister with a man he'd never seen before in his life. And Gwenna was holding hands with him.
"Who the hell is that?" he asked Alexis. Gwenna didn't hang out with mortal men, which this one clearly was. Gwenna didn't hang out with anyone. She stayed in her hotel room and did… Gwenna things. Ethan was never really sure what his sister did with her time.
"I don't know," Alexis said, craning her neck to get a better view around him.
Ethan shifted so she could see, feeling outraged. "They're practically on top of each other."
"Wow, check that out. He's touching her face. Go, Gwenna."
"No." Ethan glared at his wife. "No 'go, Gwenna.' We don't even know who this guy is."
"What we do know is that he's not Donatelli. And if she's seeing this guy, I seriously doubt she's making it with the Italian, too. That's not Gwenna's style."
That was a good point. Gwenna was sedate. Steady. Reliable. Even in her stupid insane devotion to Donatelli she was predictable. She had always loved him and no one else. But if she was with another man…
"They look rather intimate, don't they?" Ethan asked, studying his sister's posture. She was leaning toward the man slightly.
He wouldn't have expected Gwenna to take a mortal lover, but as long as she was staying away from Donatelli, Ethan was happy. Of course, that didn't mean he trusted anyone around his sister until he was certain of his intent. "Can you get this guy's name from Gwenna? I'll have Seamus run a background check on him."
Ethan didn't even have to look at his wife to know she was rolling her eyes. It was her favorite response to him, one he had to admit turned him on. Virtually everything Alexis did turned him on, which made for a very satisfying marriage.
"Here's an idea," Alexis said sarcastically. "Let's leave Gwenna alone and let her date whoever she wants. In peace. Without interference. You know, like let her make her own choices, whether they're mistakes or not. I like that better."
Gwenna and the mortal man moved off in the direction of the hospital coffee shop a few feet away. Ethan glanced down at his wife and scoffed. "Like you did with your sister? You've been telling Brittany what to do for twenty-six years."
Alexis, sexy little spitfire that she was, bristled. "That's totally different."
"How? We both love our sisters and we both stick our noses in their business. Just admit it."
"I won't."
"Which makes you a bigger hypocrite than me." Ethan saw the guy put his hand on the small of Gwenna's back as they got in line for coffee. "At least I'm honest about my protectiveness."
And as they soon as they got back to his casino, he was going to put in a call and have Gwenna's new little friend checked out.
God, they were both fucking morons. That's all Donatelli could think as he stared at his two principal bodyguards, Smith and Williams. Maybe he should just kill them both and start over from scratch. Surely he could find better staff if he discreetly advertised.
"Explain to me again how it was possible for Ringo to enter a locked room that the two of you were standing in front of?" Donatelli sipped blood from a wine goblet on the sofa in his hotel suite and glanced down at his cell phone. No missed calls. He was starting to get impatient with his ex-wife, Gwenna. She should at least have the courtesy to call him back. Where the hell were people's manners these days? And he was still absolutely stunned that she had used such a foul curse word with him. That was completely unlike Gwenna and, he had to say, rather unbecoming.
Smith cleared his throat. "Well. We thought he was allowed to go in there. He said he was. So we sort of let him in."
"And just stood there while he walked off with a week's supply of heroin?"
"I guess so."
"That was several grand worth of drugs." Like money grew on goddamn palm trees. Donatelli strove for patience. Not his strong suit. Never had been. He checked his phone screen again before he even realized what he was doing. Damn it. He felt his temper rising and surging, settling to pound at his temple. Where the fuck was Gwenna and why wouldn't she talk to him?
"We didn't…"
That set him over the edge. "You didn't know. I know. Because you're both fucking idiots." He pinned them with a hard stare. "Go tell Ringo I want my supply back. Break a few bones, show him I'm serious. And if he won't be reasonable, bring his wife to me. I'm sure I can convince her to exert her influence on her junkie husband. And he's fond of the silly bitch for whatever reason."
He waved them off. "Now get the hell out of here and send Katie to me."
His mortal lover would distract him. Ease the hard ache that had settled in his cock. Make him forget for twenty minutes that he missed his wife, that he burned for Gwenna still, that after nine hundred years of knowing each other, she was tightly entwined around his heart, his life, his very existence.
He would convince her that it was time to reconcile. That was what he wanted, almost more than the political power he had achieved in the Vampire Nation, and he would have Gwenna. Again.
Gwenna wasn't sure why she had agreed to go get coffee with a total stranger, but there was something about the way he was looking at her that had made her say yes. She didn't even like coffee, and though vampires could drink liquids, she didn't really enjoy it. It tended to sit in her stomach like a boulder. Yet Detective Thomas's eyes—a rich, deep chocolate brown—stared right into her. There was total focus on her, despite his obvious tragic loss. There was no shifting of his gaze around, no cajoling words or dissembling. Maybe it was because he had just walked away from death, but he came across as straightforward, honest, still and steady.
That was very appealing, and the complete opposite of Roberto.
So much so that she had gone into the coffee shop even when she'd known that her brother and her sister-in-law were standing in the lobby watching them. She was also curious about what the detective thought of the murder, and was aware of his pain, sympathetic at the loss of his sister. If he wanted company, she was willing. She could use some herself frankly. .
"What's your first name?" she asked as they sat down at a tiny table by the window. It was dark outside and the crowd in the shop was thin. "It's too cumbersome to keep calling you Detective Thomas."
"Nate." He gave a brief smile. "Not as cool of a name as yours, but it works. It's short for Nathaniel, though no one calls me that but my mother."
"Does your mother live here in Vegas?"
"Yeah, but she's in Australia right now. My parents…" He paused and cleared his throat. "They thought my sister was going to be okay. She was in remission, so they went to Australia for a month to visit my mom's family. I called them yesterday, but with making arrangements and the long flight, they won't be here until tomorrow."
Gwenna's heart squeezed. "Oh, your mother must be so devastated that she couldn't be here."
He gave a brief nod, than leaned back in his chair. "Sure. But I don't want to talk about it. Tell me about your friend's baby."
Nate might as well have said, "Distract me." Gwenna could understand that, the feeling that the grief was so huge and monstrous that you could only process it a tiny piece at a time or it would consume you. She could chat with him… she wanted to chat with him. Here was someone who didn't know her, didn't think of her as that poor sop Gwenna, Donatelli's passive ex-wife. There was nothing back at the casino that she needed to rush home to, and part of her was dreading going to her suite and finding Roberto standing on the doorstep waiting for her.
"Brittany had a girl. Ava Coco Renee Atelier."
"Now that's a hell of a name."
Gwenna laughed. She couldn't tell from Nate's still expression if he liked it or not, but she suspected he thought it was a bit much. "Britanny's husband is French." And a couple of hundred years old, but Nate didn't need to know that.
"But they live here?"
"Yes. Like I said, my brother is married to Brittany's sister, Alexis. My brother owns a casino here."
"Which one?"
"The Ava."
"Wow." Nate looked impressed. "He owns it?"
"Yes." Gwenna hoped he didn't think she was bragging. But Ethan had always been successful because he worked hard. Beyond hard. He was exhausting in his productivity.
"But you're not American."
It wasn't a question. She shrugged. "No. I'm British. I've been living in York, but I came here for my brother's wedding last August, then came back in December and decided to stay."
"Is your ex Roberto in England?"
Gwenna glanced at him in surprise. Had she said Roberto's name? She suddenly realized she couldn't read Nate's mind. Most humans came across easily to her, their thoughts floating across her consciousness like white noise until she tuned in, but with Nate there was only silence. Maybe that was because he was a detective, and used to shuttering and shielding his emotions.
"No, Roberto lives here."
"So why would you want to be where he is if he's harassing you?"
It felt like an accusation. Gwenna was tired as hell of having to explain herself, of having to work her life around Roberto and all her mistakes. "Why should I let him keep me from living by my family?" she asked, hearing the defensiveness in her voice.
He lifted his coffee cup and drank from it. Those eyes watched her, and she realized there was no judgment there. "You shouldn't, unless your personal safety is at risk."
Sighing, she ran her fingernail across the cocktail napkin her coffee was resting on. She'd painted her nails a rather bright red the day before, which was uncharacteristic for her. But she'd suddenly felt the urge to be bold. "My personal safety isn't at risk. Honestly, Roberto would never hurt me. And he can't really get close to me anyway, not if I don't want him to." Of course, he had just knocked on her suite door earlier that night. But she could have called security if necessary. "Ethan has staff that keeps an eye on Roberto. And me for that matter." Ethan thought she had no idea that he had her followed on occasion, but she was well aware of it.
She knew everything.
And she was a bird in a cage. Or to be more accurate, a bat confined to her cave.
"Staff? Like bodyguards?"
Nodding, Gwenna realized this probably wasn't the best topic for conversation with the detective who was investigating the murder she had discovered. Lunatic ex-husbands and personal security… she was bound to either convince him she was guilty of something, or send him screaming away from her and the mess her life was.
The first would be disastrous, the second disappointing.
Because the truth was, even at the crime scene, she had been aware that Detective Thomas was a very attractive man, in a rough sort of way. Sipping the coffee carefully, she checked out Nate's muscular arms and chiseled face. Definitely good-looking, and she could absolutely appreciate that. It had been a long three centuries in York, and it occurred to her that his muscular build could very possibly keep up with her immortal strength. Or at least close enough to satisfy her. Hell, she suspected it wouldn't require much to take care of her at this point… some days it felt like a warm breeze might do the trick, and Nate looked like a very sexual man. He could give her a run—or a ride—for her money. Not that she would actually do anything about it, but it was a pleasant fantasy in the quiet, warm shop.
"You're lucky you can have security like that. Hopefully it will keep your ex from ever getting physical with you." Nate held up his hand when she started to protest. "Look, I know you don't think he ever would. And maybe he wouldn't. But I'm a detective. I've seen the result of domestic violence, and sometimes these guys snap when you least expect it. Just be careful, okay?"
"Sure." She couldn't get offended because she saw Nate's sincerity, and he had the kind of job that would expose him repeatedly to violence. Violence like she had discovered that night. "How long have you been a detective?"
"Five years. Beat cop for eight years before that."
That would put him in his early to mid-thirties. "You don't look that old."
He laughed. "I feel old enough to retire tomorrow."
Gwenna smiled. "But you wouldn't. You enjoy it, don't you?"
"Yeah. I do. It's rewarding." He picked up his coffee and drank.
"My sister-in-law used to be a county prosecutor. Alexis Baldizzi. Maybe you know her?"
His eyebrow went up. "Sure, I know her. Great prosecutor. Cutthroat. I heard she married that crazy rich British casino owner…" He winced. "Oh, shit, that's your brother, isn't it?"
That struck her as amusing. Ethan really would hate to be labeled as crazy, but to mortals, he was simply an eccentric rich casino owner. To vampires, he was president of the Vampire Nation, and a political powerhouse. She laughed. "Yes, that's my brother, Ethan. He is all of the above, and he and Alexis got married last August. I came here for the wedding, like I said, and decided to stay."
"I bet your brother and your sister-in-law had no idea you were planning to meet some guy in a train station, did they?"
"Why would they need to?" Gwenna lifted her chin up, hearing the censure in his voice. She had to remember that if she were mortal, agreeing to meet Slash like that would have been incredibly stupid. But what Nate didn't know was that she was a vampire, and hard as hell to kill. Nor could any mortal injure her or touch her against her will. Her strength, speed, and reflexes gave her a thorough advantage.
"I guess they wouldn't. Because if they had known, I'm sure they would have stopped you, like any sane person." Nate shook his head, like he still couldn't believe she had done something so ridiculous.
"No one can stop me if I make my mind up."
"Well, that's narrow-minded and dangerous."
"I didn't think it was a big deal. It was a public place."
"And probably just a place to meet you, so he could take you somewhere else in private to rape and kill you, and no one would even know where to start looking when you turned up missing."
That was a rather grim view of it. "Well, that's not what happened, is it?"
"Only because your boy either got whacked or did the whacking."
"Or it's a coincidence."
"I don't believe in coincidence. Slash wanted you in that spot." Nate crumpled up his paper napkin. "The question is why. What made you look back there, by the way?"
"I thought I heard something." Gwenna was lying. There hadn't been any sound at all. In fact, after the rush of passengers had departed, heading down the escalators to the street had been unnaturally quiet. She had instinctively taken the down escalator herself because she had smelled death. A deceased body had a very peculiar fungal and putrid odor that was unmistakable for anything else. She'd known someone was dead. It had been a matter of just figuring out where the body was, not that it existed. "And the machine was turned a little. I actually thought a cat or something was back there."
"That must have been a grim surprise." Nate shook his head again.
"It was." Gwenna wrapped her arms around her chest. Despite being nine hundred years old, she had never seen a murder victim before. She hoped she never did again. The man—boy really—had been almost unrecognizable because of the way he'd been stuffed back there, his skin waxy and pale. She shuddered involuntarily.
"Hey." Nate's voice softened. "It's okay."
"No, it's not." Gwenna sat back in her rickety chair. "It's not alright at all, because whoever that poor man is, or was, he's dead, and whoever did that to him is just walking around feeling pleased with himself for getting away with it. I feel responsible in some way… like if I'd gotten there sooner…"
"You'd be dead, too."
Highly unlikely, but she wasn't going to argue. "I know it sounds irrational, but I feel just awful."
"I wouldn't like you if you didn't." He popped the lid off his coffee cup and dumped two packets of sugar substitute into it. "Death makes us feel bad. That's normal. When it stops feeling bad, that's when we know we're in trouble."
Maybe that was what had happened to Roberto. He had lost his compassion for the suffering of others. He had learned to take his immortality for granted, and fallen under the mistaken notion that having been granted eternity, he was entitled to use it as he chose.
"So your sister had cancer? How old was she?" she asked softly.
Nate didn't answer right away. He took a sip of his coffee and set it down. Then he met her gaze. The pain there was palpable.
"Kyra was twenty-five. She had leukemia."
"So young? That's just awful." And suddenly it made Gwenna profoundly ashamed. She'd had almost a thousand years of life and what had she done with them? Nothing. She had embroidered and played the harp and pianoforte, hosted dinners for Roberto, and read a vast quantity of books. But she hadn't done anything useful, not like her brother and Alexis. Not like Corbin, who had spent his vampire life engaged in genetic research.
"Yeah, it is awful. It totally sucks, really."
Nate's sister had lived but a whisper in comparison to her, yet Gwenna was ungrateful for her immortality. Or at least she had been. That had changed in recent months, and she should allow herself credit for that.
"I hope you were able to be with her at the end." Gwenna had wanted that with Isabel, had wished she'd had the chance to tell her daughter good-bye.
"Yeah, I was. Kyra, she is… was an amazing girl. She really did go through this whole thing with dignity and grace. I'm in awe of how brave she was. Right until the end."
The tears hung in his eyes again, and he fought them back brutally, clearly determined not to let them fall.
"It's okay to cry, you know," she whispered.
"No, it's not. Not here in the freaking coffee shop." Nate pressed on his forehead. "God, I'm sorry."
"Don't be." Gwenna reached for his free hand and slipped it in hers. "And if this isn't the place to let it go, let's find somewhere where you can."
"Like where?"
"My brother's casino. We can find a quiet corner."
"A quiet corner in a casino?" He looked skeptical.
"If you know where to go, absolutely."
She started to stand up but he resisted. "Gwenna, this isn't a good idea."
"Why not?"
"Because the department is going to have to ask you questions still about the online group you belong to. And if that victim is really Slash, there will be more questions. This isn't really even appropriate for us to be talking."
"So you came to the casino to interview me further. That's all. And we have been discussing it. I'm not a suspect, so why does it matter?"
"Everyone is technically a suspect. Especially if you knew the victim."
That honestly hadn't occurred to her. "I was in my hotel suite until nine forty-five. I took the train to the station, and then found him. I can prove I was at home until then because I had a fight with my ex-husband in the hallway right before I left. I'm sure at least someone had to have heard us."
"No one said you had to prove an alibi right now. We're a long way from that. We're just gathering facts right now." He stood up and gathered his trash. "You're right, let's go back to your casino."
"It's not mine." Gwenna picked up her coffee cup and followed him to the garbage, pitching hers after his. "It's Ethan's."
"But you live there, right?"
"Yes." Gwenna stuck her hands in her front pockets, suddenly wondering why it bothered her to admit that. "For now."
"So you moved from England a few months ago?"
"Five months ago."
"And what do you do for a living, Gwenna?"
That was a loaded question, though Nate couldn't possibly know that. "Not a damn thing."