Fucking men.
CHAPTER 3
ON THE DRIVE BACK HOME I DEBATE WITH MYSELF.
Do I want to cal Max? It’s been eight months since the last time we ran into each other in Beso de la Muerte. He was on the arm of a vampire, stinking of sex and blood. My stomach stil roils at the memory.
Why the hel would I want to cal Max? On the off chance that he wants to tel me what an ass he’s been and to thank me at long last for saving his ass in Mexico?
Shit.
It irritates me to realize I’m curious. It irritates me to realize I want to know why he wants to talk to me.
It irritates the hel out of me to realize I know how long it’s been since I’ve seen him without doing the math.
I’m sure Culebra knows more than he let on. Max is a drug enforcement agent. He spends half his life in Mexico and has used Culebra as an informant. Not in an official capacity.
Culebra has a lot of contacts on both sides of the law and the border. He and Max have a quid pro quo arrangement.
Culebra helps Max when he can and Max keeps quiet when he comes to Beso de la Muerte to ensure those under Culebra’s protection are not hassled.
At least that’s the way it worked when Max and I were together.
A lifetime ago.
My cel phone rings just as I’m pul ing into the garage at the cottage. Cal er ID shows it’s my partner, David.
“Hey—”
“Where are you?” he asks, interrupting.
No greeting. “At home. Why?”
“Stay there. I’m on the way.”
He’s gone before I can comment on his abruptness or ask the reason behind it. He sounds angry, and I can’t imagine why. Business has been going wel. I’ve been playing nice with our new partner, Tracey, an ex-cop. She’s proven herself good at the job and through her contacts, we’ve had more work than the three of us can handle. I’ve managed to stick around the last month. No unexpected trips out of town, no excuses for missing telephone cal s or office duty.
So, what’s his problem?
I let myself in through the back door and start a fresh pot of coffee. At least having just fed, my head is clear. No risk of snapping David’s off, literal y or figuratively, if he pisses me off.
Blood — the vampire equivalent of Valium.
The coffee is ready. I set the kitchen table for two and take a cup out to the living room to look through the Sunday paper while I wait. I’m no sooner settled onto the couch when the doorbel rings.
As soon as I answer the door, David storms his way past me. “Are you alone?”
“If you mean is Stephen here, no, he left.”
He traipses into the kitchen.
“What the hel is wrong with you?” I shut the door and fol ow him. “Somebody stomp on your kitten?”
He ignores me. Pours a mug of coffee. Takes a drink.
Stal ing tactics, I assume, because his hand is shaking.
Then he turns.
David is a big guy. He played a decade of professional footbal before injuries sidelined him. But while he adjusted to life without constant pain, he found he missed the adrenaline rush too much to mire himself in a typical desk job. Bounty hunting was the perfect fit. It takes detective work to hunt a skip down, cunning and resourcefulness to trap him, physical strength to bring him in.
It takes the ability to make the hair on a skip’s arms stand at attention when David skewers him with the look.
The “don’t fuck with me because I’m not in the mood” one he’s giving me now.
The only effect it’s having on me, though, is the urge to punch him. Hard.
I push my palms against my thighs to keep from giving in to the urge. I like him. Most of the time. I stare up into his face, narrow my eyes and frown to mimic his hard-ass expression.“What the fuck is going on?”
“I could ask you the same question.”
“Jesus, David.” Exasperation is churning my stomach. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
He slams the mug down on the counter. “I was in Horton Plaza this morning. Guess who I ran into?”
The urge is getting stronger and tougher to resist. If I slugged him, when he came to, maybe he’d start talking sense. But I’l give him one more chance. I temper my voice with reasonableness. “I wasn’t there. How the hel should I know who you ran into?”
He leans toward me, jabs a finger at my face. “Judith Wiliams.”
Uh-oh.
My face must betray the uneasiness that washes over me.
Like catching your kid with her hand in the candy dish, David pounces. “You remember Judith Wiliams, right? Wife of the police chief who died last month? Wel, I didn’t. I didn’t think I even knew her. Then I ran into her this morning and her face looked so familiar. She caught me looking at her and guess what she said to me? That I looked pretty good with clothes on. Too. Then she asked if I remembered the good time we had at that doctor’s house in La Jol a. And if I’d kept in touch with the twins.”
His scowl deepens. “Twins?” He shakes his head. “And al the time she’s talking, she’s laughing because she knows I haven’t a fucking clue what she’s talking about. Then she says, ‘You didn’t real y buy that stupid story Anna told you about having an accident, did you? She knows what real y happened. Ask her.’ ”
David draws a breath, lets it out with an angry hiss. “So, I’m asking. What happened to me? And what did Judith Wiliams have to do with it and who are the fucking twins?”
If I weren’t so busy trying to come up with a logical answer, David’s referral to the “fucking twins” would have made me laugh out loud. That happens to be exactly what they were.
Judith Wiliams drugged David and kept him for three days during which time he not only had sex with a set of twins she was kind enough to provide for his enjoyment but with Judith herself and god only knows who else. It was certainly a novel way to handle a kidnap victim. But it worked. When I found David, he was having so much fun I had to bring the twins with us to get him to leave.
He didn’t remember any of it, which is why I came up with the accident story. That and the fact that Judith Wiliams is a vampire and took David to ensure I’d show up to play my part in a ritual she thought would kil me.
Didn’t quite work out the way she’d planned.
But she also told him that she was a vampire.
And that I was one, too. David’s amnesia was a blessing.
Was a blessing.
Judith must be laughing her ass off now.
David takes a step closer. “Anna. I want an answer. I’ve had some crazy dreams since that ‘accident.’ Now I’m beginning to think they weren’t dreams at al.”
For the first time, his expression is more concerned than angry. “Was she saying that I had sex with her? And those two girls? Why would I do that? Why can’t I remember?”
The reason for his reaction hits me. I should have guessed it sooner.
David is a Boy Scout.
David has a girlfriend.
If he knew he had sex with those women, his conscience would force him to tel his girlfriend. If he suspected he’d had unprotected sex with those women, as is probable considering his condition when I found him, he’d want to kil me for knowing and not tel ing him and risking his health as wel as that of his girlfriend.
Frankly, it isn’t something I’d thought about before now.
Judith is a vampire, no problem there. But the girls are human.
What the hel do I tel him?
I pul out two chairs from the kitchen table, motion David into one of them, sit facing him in the other.
“Okay, David. I’m going to tel you what happened. First though, you have to know I didn’t think of the consequences of keeping the truth from you until now.”