“Are you coming?” Ryan looked at her when she lagged behind.
“Yeah, but this doesn’t feel right.”
Ryan’s hand went to his gun as she stepped on board. “Is someone here?” He kept his voice low.
“I don’t think so. But they have been. And not long ago.” She scanned the deck. Everything looked tidy, nothing out of place. They cautiously descended to the lower deck, Ryan and his pistol in the lead. They found no sign of anything wrong until they reached the door marked as Jase Barron’s cabin on the sketch Carmody had hastily prepared for them. The latch was broken, pry marks obvious against the polished wood. The intruder or intruders had made no attempt to hide the damage.
“Looks like a crowbar.” Ryan held his weapon in a two-handed firing position and toed the door open to step inside. Drawers hung open, the contents dumped on the floor. The bed had been torn apart, the mattress slit open. Ari checked the bathroom while Ryan opened the closet door and looked under the bed.
He holstered his weapon. “Someone beat us here.”
“I’ll say. I wonder what they wanted so badly.”
“Or what they didn’t want us to see.”
Ari checked the desk. A small stack of personal papers in one drawer, an empty printer on top, but everything else was gone. No computer, journals, or maps. Nothing that would indicate why Barron had been in Riverdale. There were pinholes in a corkboard above the desk where pictures or notes had been removed. The intruder had gone to a lot of trouble to keep a secret. She frowned in frustration, disgusted the lengthy human legal procedures had allowed someone to get there first and take away the evidence. But evidence of what?
She checked in and around the wastebasket, then pulled the chair away from the desk and looked in the kneehole. Something lay on the floor at the back. Maybe a photo? Had the intruder missed something? She crouched to get a better look.
Ryan slapped his hand on his weapon. “What’s that hissing sound?”
She swiveled her head toward the closet. The distinctive odor of sulfur drifted toward her. “Get out of here!” Her voice boomed in the enclosed space.
Ari dashed for the door, half-dragging Ryan with her. They cleared the stairs in two leaps, the deck in another two, and were airborne over the side when the cabin exploded.
She hit the water with enough force to drive her deep. Paddling with her hands and feet to reverse the downward thrust, she came up sputtering. Chunks of debris splashed around her. Sparks sizzled. Ryan was a dozen feet farther out, face down in the water. She dove down, coming up under him and lifting him to the surface.
“Ryan, Ryan!” She struck out for shore, pulling him along. A moment later he began thrashing his arms and legs. “Stop that. I’ve got you.”
“Let me go.” He coughed, spitting water. “I’m OK. Just stunned me for a minute.” He tried to roll over, and she let him go. He came up coughing again and shook his head to clear the dripping water.
“Your head’s bleeding,” she said, bobbing beside him. “Let’s get out of the water.”
Looking surprised, he put up a hand to feel the injury. “Something hit me. You OK?” They started paddling toward the bank.
“Just wet. You sure you can make it?”
“I’m fine. Really. What caused the explosion?” He treaded water by her side. “A bomb?”
“An erupter spell. As kids we used to call them volcanoes because of the way the fire spews out the top, but that’s the biggest one I’ve seen.”
They touched the bank as Ari heard the first sirens. She looked over her shoulder. The Seeker would be a total loss, but at least no one died this time. It wasn’t because someone hadn’t tried. A murder and an arson within hours; her partner injured. She was pissed.
Dealing with the aftermath of the boat explosion took time—talking to the firemen and the marina authorities, explaining the situation to Carmody. Over Ryan’s objection she took him to the ER, but the doctors said he was fine. Superficial wound. Apparently he had a hard head. When they left the hospital, Ari returned Ryan’s car keys, and he dropped her off at home to shower and change.
Hours wasted. She thought about the photo that the fire would have destroyed. Could it have been the lead they needed? They’d lost evidence, but even worse, they had no suspects.
When she walked into Club Dintero at 4:00 p.m., she was still in a bad mood. The supper club owned by her vampire boyfriend, Andreas De Luca, was empty of customers at this time of day, and staff scurried around in preparation of opening in less than two hours. Since Ari was a familiar figure, no one questioned her right to be there. Given the scowl on her face, it wasn’t surprising only Marcus, the young vampire club host, took the initiative to wave a greeting. She gave a curt nod.
Ari marched toward Andreas’s office. Last night’s fight was still fresh in her mind, and she wanted to stay mad for a while. He couldn’t get it through his head that she needed to maintain her independence and her privacy. This had been their thousandth argument over her refusal to move into his stylish Victorian home. She stayed there occasionally, but she had her own life, her own apartment, and her cat Bella to care for. And now the four kittens. She preferred it that way.
With the unresolved issue hanging between them, she hated having to ask him for a favor.
Ari sighed and tried to shake off her lousy mood. She’d never convince Andreas she was safe living alone. Not under present conditions. The last five months had been tense, waiting for the O-Seven vampire elders to retaliate against Andreas or Ari for the death of their ally Sebastian, the former vampire prince of Toronto. But there’d been no reaction, and Ari had grown tired of molding her life around the bad tempers of seven old men. She and Andreas had enough other problems.
She paused outside his office, took a deep breath, and knocked once before entering.
Andreas was seated at his desk. Dark, sexy, scrumptious. Black Armani slacks, silver shirt with the top two buttons unfastened, the sleeves pushed up over muscular forearms. He looked up, his black eyes capturing hers. Ari caught her breath, flushing with warmth, as her witch magic began to sing. Why, after all these months, did she still react to him this way?
He unfolded his tall, athletic frame, one hand unconsciously brushing back the lock of black hair that always tumbled across his forehead. A couple of quick steps and he unexpectedly wrapped her in his arms, brushing her hair with his lips. The faint scent of his exotic cologne drifted around her.
“Still angry with me? Don’t be,” he whispered, melting her irritation away. “I only want to keep you safe.”
“Oh, Andreas, I know that.” She pulled back to look at him. “But I’m a trained cop. I can defend myself. I don’t need a babysitter.” Since he’d become the vampire prince of Riverdale four months ago, Andreas believed he was the only one with the resources to protect her. He ignored the fact that her safest move would be to sever her connections with the vampires—especially him. She was only on the O-Seven’s hit list because she’d gotten in the middle of a vampire feud. If she hadn’t sided with Andreas and Daron, the new Toronto prince, the council of elder vampires in Europe wouldn’t know she existed.
“If you will not consider your safety,” he murmured, “then come because I want you with me.”
“I am with you.” She placed a finger across his lips when he started to interrupt. She knew what she had to do, had to say. She’d known the moment she saw him. “I don’t need protection, but I don’t want you to worry either. It’s not permanent, but I’ll stay with you for a while until we decide what to do about…well, about everything.” She eyed his emerging smile. “Can I bring Bella and her kittens?”
“Was there ever a doubt your brood was welcome?” He chuckled, a visible weight lifting from his shoulders. He wound a strand of her honey-blonde hair around his fingers. “I am delighted with your decision. I think you will like what I have done to the Chantilly Suite.”
She stared at him in consternation. “Were you so sure I’d agree?”
“Only hopeful.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “Is this what you came to tell me or is something else on your mind?”
He had an uncanny way of reading her moods. She’d have to get used to more of that now they were going to live under the same roof. “Isn’t it enough? But there is something else.” She told him about the murder and the scuffed prints she’d found at the cave entrance.
He frowned. “Not again. I thought we had closed most of the accessible entrances. Perhaps what you found is only a dead end.”
“Maybe, but I’d like to look around inside. If our victim was in there, I want to know what he was doing.”
“You don’t need my permission.” He gave her a speculative look.
“Not technically, no. But I think other vamps would be happier if I had it. Even better if you were with me. Otherwise, I’ll waste too much time wandering through miles of caves.”
“So what you really want is a guide, and you’re willing to compromise on moving in with me to get one?” The corners of his mouth twitched with amusement.
“Whatever it takes.” She grinned and flipped a dismissive hand. “How’s your schedule the next couple of afternoons?” Andreas was one of the rare vampires who woke before sundown. He could even tolerate exposure to the late-afternoon sun. His resistance was an ability he had yet to explain, but she knew he’d be up shortly after 3:00 p.m. that afternoon. “I want to do some research on lost or buried treasure around here first. Whatever this treasure hunter was looking for, it must be important.” She described the scene when she and Ryan had arrived at Barron’s yacht to search his cabin. “Clothes were thrown around, bed torn apart, drawers hung open. Someone had gone over the place. His notes, maps, everything was taken. I’m sure it’s tied to his death, but we still don’t know what he was looking for. Unless you have an idea?”