Quinn’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “Too late for that. That comes from letting your mate wear the pants.”
Amaury grunted and shot Quinn a look. “Like you have any more control over your woman than I have over mine!”
Samson raised his hands in a conciliatory gesture. “Hey, guys, let’s get back to business.”
Blake glanced at his boss. Yeah, Samson was in exactly the same boat as the rest of the blood-bonded vampires: they were all dependent on their women, and they wouldn’t have it any other way.
“So we got a deal?” Donnelly asked through the speakerphone.
“Yeah, we got a deal. I’ll have John call and coordinate with you. You get forty-eight hours. Then I’m pulling him off.”
“Okay. Thanks.” There was a soft rustling of papers, then Donnelly continued, “Can we go over the vampire case files now? I’ve got a few updates.”
“Go ahead,” Samson agreed.
There was a faint knock at the door, followed by a creak as it opened a sliver. Finn, a young employee of Vüber, one of Scanguards’ subsidiaries, popped his head in. Several heads turned to him.
“Sorry,” Finn apologized quickly, “but it’s important. Blake, a word.”
Blake rose. “Excuse me for a sec.” He walked outside, and eased the door shut behind him. “What’s going on?”
Finn shifted from one foot to the other, appearing nervous. “Well, I’m not sure. But you told me if there’s ever a problem with Hannah Bergdorf, I should let you know personally.”
Blake’s heartbeat instantly went into overdrive. Hannah, one of the many human drivers who worked for Vüber, a company that transported vampires around the city during daytime, stood under his personal protection. “Hannah? What’s going on?”
“I’m not sure, but she hasn’t accepted any fares lately. And she didn’t call in sick or anything.” Finn shrugged.
“How long has she not worked?”
“Maybe two or three days.”
Blake felt heat rise to his head. “And you didn’t tell me earlier?”
“I didn’t even notice at first. I mean, the Vüber drivers don’t have fixed hours. They accept the fares as they come in. I figured she was taking a few days off, since she worked over Christmas.”
“Did you call her?”
“She’s not picking up her phone. Goes straight to voicemail.”
“Has anybody checked her house?”
Finn shook his head. “Can’t spare anybody right now. It’s really busy. And maybe she just forgot to set her app to the Away mode. I don’t wanna intrude if she’s just taking time off.”
Blake nodded, worried and anxious. Nevertheless, he didn’t want to shoot the messenger. “I’ll take care of it. In the meantime, send the details of her last fare to my phone.”
“Will do.” Finn turned on his heel and rushed away, clearly relieved at being allowed to leave.
Blake didn’t waste time either. He marched to the elevator and pressed the call button. As he waited, he tried to calm himself. Maybe Hannah had just forgotten to tell Finn’s team that she wasn’t working for a few days. But as much as he wanted to believe in that scenario, he knew better.
Hannah was too generous and charitable for her own good. She’d probably helped somebody and gotten in trouble as a result. Just like she’d helped him on that wet March day four years ago. The day he would have died, had it not been for Hannah’s fearless action.
3
Lilo towel-dried her blond hair, before reaching for her hairbrush to comb the damp strands into submission. Normally she’d let it air-dry, but since she was planning to go to the nearest police station and didn’t want to freeze, she bent down to the cabinet below the sink and pulled Hannah’s hairdryer from it. She was about to plug it in and switch it on, when she heard a sound coming from the other room.
She froze mid-movement, her heart skipping a beat.
Had Hannah come home? She listened, instinctively, hoping against hope it was her friend. If it was Hannah, she would see the suitcase and know she had a visitor. Judging by the stickers on Lilo’s luggage—stickers Hannah had sent her from her numerous trips—she would also know immediately who it was.
Lilo waited another two seconds, but whoever was in the other room didn’t call out her name. It couldn’t be Hannah.
It was an intruder, probably a burglar. It had to be. She’d written enough mystery novels to know how this would go down: he’d steal everything valuable in sight, including her handbag and computer, which would leave her stranded. And she already had enough problems to deal with. Getting her valuables stolen wasn’t on the agenda tonight.
She stretched her hand toward the glass shelf above the sink, reaching for her phone, but stopped.