* * *
"Winkler said I could come with you." That was Gavin, telling me he wanted to come along. I didn't want the distraction or the embarrassment.
"No," I said. This was my fourth night out, looking for the kidnappers. I was feeling inadequate enough as it was. I didn't need a witness.
"Tell me why." It sounded like an order, so I stood there beside the driver's side door of the van for a moment, considering my answer. Bumping my head against the glass of the window, I felt like crying instead.
"Because I feel like a fool," I said. "And you'll just say I told you so when I don't find anything."
"That could very well be true," Gavin's voice was soft at my ear. I hadn't heard him come up beside me—when had he done that? He'd been five feet away when I'd said no. His hand was on the back of my neck, stroking my nape with his thumb. Lazy circles were gently drawn on my skin as Gavin's breath fanned my temple. That might have made my knees give way in another life. That life was over, now. I didn't have time for this and it was dangerous in the extreme, on top of that. Did vampires get to have lovers? Once again, the FVM was missing in action. And it was never a good idea to date or bed anybody you worked with. That was trouble with a capital T.
"Gavin, get in the f**king van," I grumbled, jerking the door open.
"What are you looking for?" Gavin asked as we bounced over a speed bump. We were driving through yet another Mexican restaurant parking lot—On the Border, this time—the one on Northwest Expressway.
"Winkler was buried in one of those tool boxes that fit across the back of a pickup," I mumbled distractedly as I slowly drove past the row of vehicles up front. "And I smelled Mexican food inside Winkler's Jaguar but didn't find any evidence that the security guard had been in the car or the trunk. Obviously, there was another vehicle to pick up the one driving the Jag afterward, plus the toolbox had to be hauled in somehow, along with the dead guard. The only truck that can hold three or more people has to be a club or extended cab."
"So, you've put Mexican food together with a pickup that has a missing toolbox and extra seating?"
"I know. It's not much," I grumped. I sure as hell wasn't telling him about the scents of those men or the one associated with the dead body. I'd recognize that, sure enough.
"What's this?" I crept past a late model silver extended cab that looked like the toolbox had been removed recently. The truck was clean except for a bit of red dirt behind the cab where a toolbox might fit. I drove a little way past, found a space and parked the van. Gavin got out with me and followed along behind as I walked casually toward the truck. Glancing around quickly to see if anybody was watching, I slipped between the truck and the car parked next to it.
"This is it," I said, nodding in satisfaction. I'd gotten a good whiff of the dead body right away. Gavin blinked at me for a moment, his nostrils flaring a little in surprise. I was afraid he'd belittle me or refute my certainty.
"What are you going to do?" he asked instead.
"Convince our friends, here, to come back with me," I said. "Phil and Glen can have them, I think."
We waited more than half an hour and it was nearing eleven when three men walked out of the restaurant, heading straight for the truck. They'd all been drinking Margaritas; I could smell the tequila. Gavin ducked behind the car parked next to the truck, leaving me to handle the situation. Later, he and I might have a talk about chickening out. He'd insisted on coming, after all.
"Hi," I said, walking up to the three men. They'd reached the tailgate of the truck.
"Hey, look at this," one of them grinned as he placed an arm around my shoulders. I had to force myself not to shudder and gag at his touch. He was tall and heavy, wearing a stained t-shirt and jeans. Definitely not a neat eater. His brown hair was a little on the long side, too, and he wore a goatee. His friends both looked like construction workers, with close-fitting t-shirts showing off muscles and everything.
"Look at me, guys," I said, doing my best to sound sexy. Hell, I don't think I've ever been sexy. Mostly I just wanted to throw up. "You're all coming home with me, aren't you?" I tried to put as much of what I had into that command. All three of them nodded eagerly.
"Good. Come with me," I motioned for them to follow. Gavin was trailing the four of us, walking in front of the parked cars while the three men and I walked behind them. I loaded my three passengers into the back of the van; they were all smiling and sliding onto seats willingly. Gavin climbed into the driver's seat so I handed him the keys. He drove us to the house while I watched our three guests, all of whom were sitting in the back grinning foolishly at me.
Gavin and I got our prisoners seated inside the kitchen while we waited for Phil and Glen. "You're going to answer every question these gentlemen ask you and you're going to be honest with your answers," I informed the three as Phil and Glen walked into the kitchen. I didn't ask for names. I had no desire to know who they really were. Phil was grinning as he questioned the first of our captives so Gavin and I left him to it, walking out of the house quickly.
"I think we should go get their truck," I said, holding up the keys I'd filched from one of the men. They'd been in his hand when I'd stopped him in the restaurant parking lot.
"Sounds reasonable," Gavin agreed. He drove their truck back and I was happy to let him have that chore. The smell of decay inside it made me want to gag and hold my nose.
Winkler and Davis were in the kitchen when we returned, watching while Phil and Glen continued their questioning. Winkler drifted over to us when we walked inside. "I remember that one," he pointed to the messy eater. I wouldn't have picked any of them out of a crowd; there were no outstanding features or anything. I knew their smell, though. They were the ones, no doubt about that.
"How did they get you out of the house?" I hadn't asked until now.
"I uh, have a baby sister," Winkler admitted reluctantly. "She's in college and they told me they had her. They were asking for a ransom and for me to meet them alone. I fell right into that trap."
"Is she all right?" I asked. Winkler's dark eyes were watching Phil, Glen and Davis. They were asking the three if anyone else was involved.
"Yeah,” Winkler answered without looking at me. "I couldn't get her on her cell after they called me, so I panicked. Turns out she was studying in the library with her cell switched off. She now has bodyguards of her own."