He studied us for several moments, then said, “I work on a commission basis. You can threaten me all you like, but it would be far easier if you simply paid me for the information.”
That raised my eyebrows. “You’d risk ratting out your employer?”
He half smiled. It was not a pleasant thing to behold. “That shows how little you know about the vampire sindicati and how they work in these matters. As I said, I merely accepted this commission and I can give you nothing more than the next person in the chain. I do not know the person behind the order. I will never know.”
“Well, the next person is better than nothing.” Jackson glanced at me and, at my nod, added, “How much will it cost?”
“One thousand. That is the fee I will lose.”
“I seem to be going rather cheaply if you ask me,” I muttered, resisting the urge to rub at the ache beginning to form just behind my eyes. The fire encasing Rawlings might not be mine, but it still pulled at my strength. I couldn’t keep it going indefinitely—not unless I wanted to become little more than ash and flame myself. And that would not please Rory.
Rawlings’s gaze flicked briefly to me, and in its dark depths, amusement briefly glinted. Despite that he hired himself out to the vampire crime syndicates, I had a suspicion he wasn’t intrinsically bad. “Having witnessed your rather extraordinary skills, I would agree that you most certainly are going cheaply.” His gaze went back to Jackson. “Do we have a deal?”
“Yes.”
“Wire the money into my account immediately.”
Jackson drew his phone from his pocket and, as Rawlings recited the number, made the transfer.
Rawlings nodded. “The vampire who employed me for this parcel pickup was one Henry Morretti. I cannot give you his address, and I suspect the phone he called on is either generic or untraceable.” He reeled off a number, then added, “And I was not told why he wished you collected, only that I was to be here at this time to collect you and then deliver you to an address in Laverton North.”
“Why would you deliver me to what is essentially an industrial area?”
He raised an eyebrow, the movement rather eloquent. “Where else could you question someone without suspicions being raised? Most of the warehouses around that particular address are not twenty-four-hour.”
Charming, I thought with a shiver. “What address?”
He gave it to us, then added, “I have lived up to my part of the bargain. I now expect you to live up to yours.”
“Do not try to attack us,” I warned.
“We made a deal. I will not go back on that.”
An honorable criminal. Amazing. I glanced at Jackson, who nodded. I took a deep breath and released my hold on the flames. They shimmered for one brief moment longer; then their heat dissipated, retreating to the realms of earth and air.
Rawlings bowed slightly. “Thank you,” he said, then promptly disappeared.
Jackson’s nostrils flared. “He retreats, as promised.”
“Good.” I rubbed my temples wearily, wishing I had some aspirin.
Jackson frowned at me. “You okay?”
“I will be. Creating those sort of flames takes a bit out of me, that’s all.”
“Do you need tea? Painkillers?”
“Yes, but I’m guessing you don’t have either right at this particular moment.”
“No, but there’s a 7-Eleven not far down the road. If you think you can walk there—”
“The only place you two will be walking,” a sharp, all-too-familiar voice said, “is straight into two goddamn jail cells.”
I looked up quickly and my stomach sank. Sam and Adam strode toward us, and to say neither of them looked particularly happy would have to be one of the understatements of the year. Sam’s body practically vibrated with anger.
“Ah, Detective Turner,” Jackson said equably. “How nice of you to join us.”
Sam barely gave him a glance. He was too intent on glaring at me. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing, Emberly? This isn’t some sort of game, you know.”
I bit back the instinctive smart-ass reply that rose to my lips. “I know.”
“Then, to repeat, what the hell are you doing here, waiting for some criminal?”
Meaning he hadn’t seen Rawlings, which put us one up on him—although what good it would do us if he threw us in jail, I had no idea.
“I told you—”
“You told me you were going to be sensible. This is not what I call sensible.” He planted himself in front of me, his hands clenched near his sides and a blanket of darkness emanating from him. “You were both warned to stay clear of this investigation—”
“I’m being employed to investigate Professor Wilson’s death,” Jackson said flatly. “And if that means I also have to investigate Baltimore’s, then so be it.”
Sam’s gaze flicked to Jackson. The darkness in him sharpened, even as his control seemed a little more tenuous. Fear skipped lightly into my heart. I had a bad feeling we did not want to see his control slip.
Sam took a half step forward, leaving me sandwiched between the two men. I don’t think he even realized he was doing it, because he was so focused on the Fae at my back—a Fae who was more than ready to give as good as he got, if the coiled readiness I could feel in his body was anything to go by.
“You had better”—Sam’s voice was little more than a harsh whisper, but the force of it seemed to shudder the air around us—“start listening, or else—”
Adam placed a hand on Sam’s shoulder, as if in warning. Sam growled, the sound animalistic, then drew in a breath and released it slowly. He glanced down at me, and awareness flared. Awareness and hunger. It was thick and sexual and it stormed through me, making me ache even as the dark heart of it had fear stirring again.
After a moment, he stepped back. The darkness in him receded, but not the awareness. Not the hunger. “Adam, get both their asses out of here. Take them to headquarters.”
Adam raised a pale eyebrow. “That will not please Henrietta—”
“Right now, I don’t fucking care. Just do it.”
Adam hesitated, then said, “And you?”
“I’m going to the hospital to question Michelle Rodriguez.” He glanced at me. It wasn’t a pleasant experience. “I’ll interrogate them when I get back.”
Adam studied him for a moment, then nodded. “You two, follow me. And please, do not attempt to run. It would be a fruitless waste of all our time.”
I glanced at Jackson. He just shrugged and tucked his hand under my elbow, both guiding me forward and offering support in case I needed it. We were shoved into the back of a waiting van, which had no windows and no seats, forcing us to hunker down on the metal floor. The rear door slammed shut, and darkness closed in. After a few minutes, the engine started and the van drove off, taking us god knew where.
“Well, this is the first time I’ve been arrested in quite a while,” I muttered, drawing my knees up to my chest. Flames flickered across my hands, but given the energy store was very low, they barely lifted the darkness. Jackson’s eyes were little more than a pale glitter.
He raised his eyebrows. “Meaning this lifetime or past?”
“Past.” I gave him a lopsided smile. “You’d be surprised at some of the things I’ve done.”
Amusement tugged at his lips. “Actually, I wouldn’t. I daresay a being who keeps getting reborn has more than her fair share of tales to tell.”
“Yeah.” I paused, then added, “Although being burned at the stake as a witch was not the punishment they thought it would be.”
He laughed, but his attention wasn’t really on me. I contemplated his intentness and realized he was listening to the sounds around us—a tram rattling by, the peal of a church bell, the heavy bass thump of music—normal noises that meant nothing unless you needed to retrace your steps.