The look he gave her was disappointed, almost hurt, and she blushed. “Sorry, Dean, it's been a long few days with little sleep. But you know I'm right about some of the others."
He frowned and drew a deep breath through his nose. “This case stinks."
"Yeah, it does. Who's your witness?"
"I can't tell you, Cyn. You know that."
Cyn thought about arguing, but he was right. “Hammel doesn't fit, you know,” she said instead.
"We think she was an accident, that the guy got a taste for the vein after her and started looking for easier prey."
"If a vampire in L.A. wants blood from the vein, he doesn't need to kill for it. People line up to volunteer. Hell, your friend Hartzler in there would probably give his left nut for the chance, him and all his buddies. You know about the blood houses. What do you think goes on there?"
"Maybe this one likes the hunt."
She shook her head. “It doesn't work that way. One murder and Raphael's enforcers would be on him like white on rice. He wouldn't last twenty-four hours. These guys don't play games, Eckhoff, and they don't give second chances."
He sighed. “This isn't my case,” he said again, and she detected an obvious note of relief beneath his words. “I can have a conversation, but that's about it."
"I know.” She checked her watch. “Listen, I've really have to run. I've got one more stop to make before going home, and then I'm going to sleep for about ten hours in my own bed.” She rubbed her face tiredly. “And then I've got to get back to my real job, which is finding a teenage runaway before she becomes the next victim."
"This related to the Texas business?"
"Yeah, I'm pretty sure she ran to L.A. I've got Luci on the lookout, and I gave my number to someone who might still be in contact, but...” She shrugged. “You know how that goes."
"Needle in a haystack."
"Something like that. Okay.” She slid into the front seat.
Eckhoff rested one hand on top of the open door and leaned in. “You take care, grasshopper. Whoever's behind these killings wants us to think it's vamps, and he might not take kindly to someone calling his bluff."
"What else is new? No, no.” She waved away his objection before he could voice it. “I'll be careful. Now let me go home."
He stood back, letting the door close before slapping the top of her truck and heading down the street toward his own American sedan. Cyn did a quick three point turn and waved through her open window as she drove past. She had to get back to Lucia's, pick up Mirabelle and get the girl settled into the condo before sunrise. Assuming no other vampires decided to make an unscheduled appearance.
Chapter Twenty-two
Cyn was dead tired by the time she pulled into the garage beneath her Malibu condo. Next to her in the front seat, Mirabelle was fidgeting with nerves, worried about her first sunrise away from the safety of the only home she'd ever known—even if that home had been turned into a prison by Jabril Karim. Cyn tried to reassure her, saying she'd stay with her through the day, that the windows were all covered with blackout shades in deference to Cyn's own night owl habits, but the girl remained terrified. Cyn really couldn't blame her, but she was so exhausted herself that it was an effort to deal with a twitchy Mirabelle.
She unlocked the heavy door from the garage to the condo and held it open for the girl, waving her in the direction of the stairs. “Go on up,” she said. “I'll be there in a sec."
Mirabelle gave the stairs an uncertain glance before heading up, while Cyn pushed the door securely shut and turned to disarm the security panel. She frowned, seeing the row of green lights indicating the system had already been disarmed. Cyn rarely forgot to arm her security, and never when she was traveling out of...
She looked up at the sound of a loud thud from upstairs, like someone had dropped a suitcase ... or a body.
Cyn stood perfectly still, listening ... and heard nothing at all. She slipped out of her jacket and unsnapped the safety strap on her weapon, moving quietly to the foot of the stairs. It was close to sunrise; maybe the girl had passed out already. Duncan had emphasized how young she was.
Cyn started up the stairs, one soft foot at a time. She rounded the first landing and paused. There was a dark huddle at the top of the stairs; it was Mirabelle curled into a ball and clutching herself, whimpering softly. Cyn hurried up the last few steps, going down on one knee and brushing a reassuring hand over the young woman's back, even as she searched the room and found nothing. She flashed on the memory of Mirabelle cringing under the lash of Jabril's cruelty and wondered if Jabril trying to contact her again. If Duncan's shield hadn't been enough after all.
A half-seen blur of movement had her spinning around, her hand going automatically to her shoulder harness and the Glock 17 waiting there. The shadows in her living room shifted as her hand touched the butt of the weapon. The gun was halfway out of the holster when she realized who it was.
"No,” Cyn snarled. She slammed the Glock back into the holster and stood completely. Three hard strides took her into the living room. “No, no, no. You don't get to do this, Raphael. You cannot come in here and..."
Raphael straightened to his full height, his powerful frame looming over her, black eyes glowing silver in the low light. Those sensuous lips were pulled back in a confident smile, and shadows caressed the perfect planes of his face, showcasing his beauty. Every moment of heartache from the past month came flooding back to punch her in the gut, choking back her words and stopping her cold.
"What do you want?” She kept her voice low, hoping he wouldn't hear the pain beneath it.
The vampire lord stared at her, his handsome face unreadable. But then, Cyn had never been able to read anything there unless he wanted her to. She wished she could say the same about herself.
"I wanted to know you are well."
He sounded so reasonable. “Fine,” she said. “You see that I am, and now you can leave."
"Cyn—” he began, but she heard Mirabelle moan softly behind her and hurried back to her side.
"It's all right, Mirabelle,” she said, crouching next to the girl.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry,” Mirabelle kept whispering through her tears.
"It's okay. Come on, honey, get up."
"She can't,” Raphael observed coolly.
Cyn felt a rush of rage replace the hurt. She stood, spun around in a single movement and marched over to him, getting right up in his face. “Don't you do this to her,” she hissed. “She came back here with me because I said you were better than this, better than that asshole in Texas. If you're pissed at me, fine, be pissed at me, but don't you dare use her like this."
He glared back at her, every bit as angry as she was, and Cyn's first thought was to wonder what the hell right he had to be angry at anyone. They stared at each other for what seemed like an eternity, and then he stepped around her and went over to Mirabelle, going down on one knee.
Cyn watched as he put a gentle hand on the girl's trembling shoulder and leaned down to speak directly into her ear. His voice was too soft for Cyn to hear anything, but Mirabelle's thin body stopped its shuddering, and she began sobbing in relief, her sobs turning to laughter, as every muscle appeared to relax at once. Mirabelle raised her face at last, staring at Raphael with something close to worship, her blue eyes glowing with tears in the low light. Raphael reached out a tender hand and wiped them away, brushed a stray tendril of hair off her face. Cyn felt a sharp stab of jealousy, followed instantly by shame that she could be that small. And that stupid.
The vampire lord stood, bringing Mirabelle with him. He spoke to her again, and she nodded, giving him a shy smile which she then transferred to Cyn.
Cynthia walked over, careful to keep Mirabelle between her and Raphael. “Come on, Mirabelle, sunrise can't be far away. Let me show you your room, and you can get changed into something comfortable. You don't want to sleep the whole day in those clothes."
Without looking back, she shepherded the young vampire into the hallway beyond the kitchen and from there into the larger of the two guest bedrooms. It was a pleasant, albeit impersonal, room since Cyn rarely had guests to speak of. At one time her half-sister Holly had been a regular, if self-invited, visitor. But the last time Holly had come to stay, she'd tried to break into Cyn's private study to steal photographs and videos of Cyn's vampire clients. Holly figured the purloined items would be worth a lot of money to the various tabloids, both print and television. She was right.
Fortunately, Cyn had caught her before she and her incompetent burglar boyfriend had managed to get through the locked door. Which had probably saved their lives. Vampires didn't take you to court if you violated their privacy. Their solutions tended to be more permanent.
Of course, Holly didn't see it quite that way. Not that Cyn cared. Holly was no longer welcome under any circumstances.
Cyn walked over to the closet where some of her sister's clothes still hung. One thing she had to say about Holly; the woman had excellent taste. “Let's see what we have here,” she said mostly to herself. She shuffled through the clothes and came up with a predictably lovely and expensive silk nightgown that looked as if it had never been worn. “How about this for tonight? Tomorrow we can go shopping and pick up some things of your own."
She turned around, holding the nightgown, but Mirabelle was by the window, pulling the drapes back and forth, checking their coverage. Cyn threw the nightgown onto the queen bed and walked over. Reaching past the girl, she stretched up and pulled down the blackout shade. “There, you see,” she said reassuringly. “The shade covers the whole window, but to be absolutely sure, we can pull the drapes across as well.” She suited action to words. “Believe me, Mirabelle, nothing gets through. This room is pitch-black in the daytime."
"He's nice,” Mirabelle said abruptly.