I’ve got to quiet her.
Once more I reach out, making what I hope is a reassuring shushing noise, trying to calm her.
She screams louder.
Jesus.
I slam the slider shut behind me.
She’s going to wake the entire block if I don’t do something.
There’s a crash of splintering wood. Somebody is breaking in my front door.
Too late.
At the sound, the woman turns up the volume.
Feet thunder up the stairs. Cops appear at the door, one shoves me away from the woman and one pushes me down onto the floor.
The instinct to fight is squelched because of a voice in my head.
Anna, it’s me. Relax. Don’t say anything.
It’s Ortiz, back in uniform, with two of San Diego’s finest.
Ortiz takes over. He gets the cop off my back and allows me to stand up. He tells him that he knows me.
The second cop is untying the woman. He throws a sheet over her and when she sits up, she starts to babble. She tells the cops how I appeared in the room from the deck and not the inside door and how I looked at her with an animal’s face and yellow eyes.
They look at each other and at me. I put on as normal a face as I can and shrug.
Ortiz tells one of the cops to take me downstairs while he questions her. It’s not until they’ve taken her away in an ambulance and the CSI team has come and gone (with a set of my best Egyptian cotton sheets) that he joins me at the kitchen table. He sends my cop custodian away, too.
“It was Burke,” he says.
I hand him a cup of coffee. Dawn is breaking outside and it’s obvious I’m not going to get any sleep. Neither is he.
“Burke.” Not really surprising. Another part of her little game?
He takes a long pull at the coffee. “The woman says she was picked up leaving a downtown bar about midnight. Two men grabbed her. The last thing she remembers before getting stuck with a needle is a voice saying the name Belinda Burke.”
“Not very subtle, is she? But what does dumping her here accomplish?”
“Maybe she thought you’d lose it when you smelled the blood. We got an anonymous call that someone saw you carrying a bound and gagged woman into your house. Came in ten minutes before we got here. Before
you
got here, evidently.”
“How’d you catch the call? When I left you, you were still with Williams.”
Ortiz smiles. “Police scanner. When your address was broadcast, I beat it over here. Changed in the car. The uniforms assumed I was on duty.”
I sip at my coffee, processing what Burke could hope to accomplish with such a stunt. I let Ortiz accompany me as I sort possibilities.
Did she hope I’d land in jail to be off her trail? Give her a clear shot at Culebra? Was it simply a way to harass me? Let me know she can fuck with me whenever she wants?
Ortiz shakes his head. “Any or all of the above. Maybe she hoped you’d kill that woman. That would be one way to get you off her trail.”
Now I shield my thoughts. The woman was never in danger from me—not of being killed. She did come close to becoming a late night snack, though.
I need to feed.
I look at Ortiz. “How much trouble am I in?”
He shrugs. “She admits you weren’t in on the abduction. She gave us good descriptions of the men who were and the van she was hauled off in. Unless we find hard evidence that you arranged it, you’ll be listed as a person of interest.” He laughs. “You didn’t arrange it, did you?”
“Very funny.”
He tips his cup toward me. “And you have the best alibi you could possibly have. At the time of her abduction you were hanging out with a cop and the former police chief.”
I rub my eyes. The hunger is beginning to cloud my head. It shouldn’t be this strong. Too much blood tonight. First the woman at the pier, then the woman in my bed. It has awakened the hunger. The vampire is close to the surface, demanding sustenance.
If Lance were here—
But he’s not.
And I can’t go to Culebra, either.
Ortiz is watching me. My thoughts are closed to him, but he’s vampire, too. He may recognize the signs. He doesn’t impose himself, though; he sits quietly and waits.
Maybe he can help. He’s got a live-in girlfriend to provide nourishment. Maybe he knows of others? If I’m going to be of any use to Culebra, I’ve got to have a clear head.
“Ortiz?”
He looks at me over the rim of the coffee cup.
“I need to ask you a favor.”
He nods at me to go on.
I still haven’t opened my thoughts to him. It might be easier but for some reason, I don’t want it to be.
“I need a host.”
He puts the cup on the table, his eyebrows rising in surprise. “I thought you had this deal in Mexico.”
“I did. I do.” Obviously Williams hasn’t filled him in on everything. I let him pick the story out of my head.
“Wow,” he says. “I had no idea.” He’s quiet for a minute. Then he says, “I’ll call my girlfriend. There’s a friend of hers that I’ve used. Before I hooked up with Brooke, naturally. She might be available.”
I feel embarrassed. I sit there while he calls his girlfriend and explains the situation. It’s like asking your little brother to get you a date. Humiliating.
This is the uncool part.
CHAPTER 20
I
N AN HOUR, ORTIZ AND I ARE SITTING IN HIS LIVING room. His girlfriend, Brooke, is a petite brunette who is looking at me with open curiosity on her pert, co ed’s face. I guess she’s never met any female vamps.
She couldn’t be more than twenty. She’s barefoot, dressed in a hoodie and a pair of sweats. Her hair is pulled back in a ponytail.
Isn’t she a little young?
I ask Ortiz.
He puts an arm across her shoulders and she snuggles against his chest like a contented kitten.
Not for me.
I’m seeing a side of Ortiz I wouldn’t have believed an hour ago. He’s always displayed an air of chivalry toward me. To see him on his home turf acting more macho than gallant surprises me. I realize at this moment, though, that I don’t know anything about Ortiz—even how long he’s been a vampire or how old he was when he was turned. Maybe he’s younger than I think. Maybe Brooke is older.
And Brooke certainly seems to be enjoying the attention.
I look around the room. I followed Ortiz in my own car from the cottage so I could take off right after—doing what I need to do. He and Brooke live in a new housing development in Chula Vista. The homes are upper middle class, two story, fifteen hundred square feet of yuppie suburban delight. This room is decorated in Pottery Barn essentials. I expect a dog and a couple of kids to materialize out of the woodwork.
Hard to imagine why Ortiz, who will never be able to produce those kids, would choose to live here.
The moment I think that, the hypocrisy rises up to thump me on the head. Look at my lifestyle. Aren’t I trying to do the same thing? Live a “normal” life?
Brooke is still rubbing her cheek against Ortiz’ chest like she can’t get close enough. He takes her chin in his hand, turns her face up and kisses her. There’s no self-consciousness in the act, no embarrassment that I’m sitting right here with them.
Sharing intimate moments with strangers may be the norm for these two.
I’m relieved when the doorbell rings.
Ortiz extricates himself from Brooke’s grasp and goes to answer it. The way Brooke is staring at me sparks the uneasy feeling that I may have asked the wrong vampire for a favor. It intensifies when Ortiz returns with a blonde in a raincoat.
“Anna,” Ortiz says, “This is Edie.”
Edie looks at me, head tilted, eyes shining with curious intensity. “Hi, Anna,” she says. She unbuttons the raincoat and lets it slide off her shoulders.
She’s naked.
Ortiz and Brooke are both standing beside her now. Ortiz cups her left breast while Brooke cups the right.
Edie crooks a finger at me. “Let the games begin.”
I’m stunned into speechlessness. I know a lot of vamps go for the group thing. I never expected Ortiz was one of them. Just as I never expected his girlfriend to be willing to share him. Color floods my face. I should have been more explicit in what I wanted.
I’m not a prude. I’ve had my share of one-night stands both before and after becoming a vamp. This, however, is too much.
Sitting in Ortiz’ catalog-perfect living room and realizing what the three strangers staring at me expect puts me over the edge.
I swallow back humiliation and embarrassment and spear Ortiz with a look.
Not going to happen, Ortiz.
Ortiz responds with a puzzled look.
What’s wrong? You said you wanted a host.
He smiles at Edie.
I got you a host.
For me. Alone. Not this—
He snorts.
Come on, Anna. Williams told me about you. You’re no innocent. You’ve had plenty of human lovers.
Embarrassment gives way to anger.
One at a time. In private.
Ortiz is staring at me, as if he can’t believe the direction this is going. The worst part is I do need to feed. The hunger is eating away at me. I refuse, though, to do it with an audience. I take a mental step back, breathe out a long sigh.
Look, Ortiz. I’m sorry if I made you think I wanted more than blood. I can’t do this. If Edie is willing to let me feed from her, I’ll pay her. Do you want to ask her or shall I?
Ortiz frowns. He looks seriously put out that I won’t.
You offered me sex once.
His tone hums with protest.
And you turned me down
.
Because of your girlfriend, if I remember correctly. I thought you didn’t want to be unfaithful. I didn’t realize it was because she wasn’t there to participate.
He starts to say something and Brooke interrupts.
“What’s going on?” she asks. “Mario, you told me she wanted to play. You promised.”
Mario? I didn’t even know Ortiz’ first name. We both turn to look at Brooke.
She’s frowning at us like a petulant child. Suddenly, I get the feeling this kitten has claws. I look at Ortiz.
What did you promise?
His mind snaps closed and anger tightens his jaw. He takes Brooke’s arm. “Anna has changed her mind. She wants to be alone with Edie.”
I changed my mind? I open my mouth to snarl a reply but Edie distracts me. She’s picked up the raincoat and drapes it over an arm. “No problem. Let’s go.” She pulls a small penknife from the pocket of the coat and runs the blade over her tongue. She runs her tongue over her lips, smearing them with blood. “I’m ready.”
When she smiles, my insides start to quake.
I’m ready, too.
Brooke stomps off to another part of the house. A slamming door makes me think if Ortiz expects to get anything from Brooke in the near future, sex or blood, he’s going to have to do some serious groveling.
Ortiz recovers enough to offer Edie and me the use of a guest room. He escorts us down a hallway, opens the door, and leaves us to, I assume, begin the groveling.
As soon as the bedroom door closes behind us, Edie tosses the raincoat onto a chair and lays down. She stretches her hands over her head and grabs onto the headboard. Her body is long and lush. She licks her lips again, the blood is bright red and shines like liquid rubies.
I find myself licking my own lips.
I take off my jacket and lay it over her coat on the chair.
It’s all I take off.
I perch myself on the side of the bed, suddenly feeling foolish and uncertain what to do next.
My throat tightens when I try to speak. I make a ridiculous croaking sound.
Edie laughs. “Are you nervous? I can’t believe it. You don’t have to be, you know. I’ve done this before—with men and women.”
She waits for me to say something. I don’t know what to say. I’ve fed from women before at Beso de la Muerte, but there it’s a controlled situation and neither of us is naked.
She props herself up, leaning back on her elbows, and studies my face. “You’ve never had sex with a woman, have you?”
And I don’t intend to now. I swallow a few times to make sure what comes out of my mouth won’t be another undignified croak and say, “Edie, I don’t think this is going to work. I can’t give you what you want.”
She tilts her head. The bloody tip of her tongue flicks toward me like an invitation. “But I can give you what you want. Why don’t we give it a try?”
She turns on her side and lifts her hair, offering me her neck. The smell of her, pheromones, blood, a hint of lavender, melts my resolve. I lay down and fit my body against hers.