The Fire Within (10 page)

She nodded back. “Mr. Oates.”

Oates walked off without another word as he flipped through the file.

“He’s been a little irritable lately,” Cranston said weakly, his gaze following his boss. “I can’t blame him. I’d probably fall apart if I was in his shoes right now.”

“Can you tell me anything more about the missing files?”

“I’m afraid there isn’t much more I can tell you about them, other than they were financial in nature.”

“Which files were they?” Beth asked, pen poised eagerly over her notepad. If she could corroborate Sam’s data, she’d be able to get into Romanov Enterprises and maybe interview Piotr himself.

“Well, there was the Talbot file, but we were able to recover most of that. The Branda file, the Morrison file, the Rose file and the Miller file were all missing. We’ve managed to recover most of the Morrison, Rose and Miller files, and all of the Branda files.” Cranston pushed his glasses back up his nose.

“What about the Romanov file?” Beth asked, looking up sharply.

Cranston’s hands stopped moving. “The Romanov file? What Romanov file?”

Beth leaned back slightly in her chair. “I heard a rumor that Piotr Romanov contributed funds to the Blessing campaign. If that’s so, you’d have a file on him. I wanted to know if that was one of the files that was missing.”

Confusion and alarm lit Cranston’s face. “I’m afraid I have no memory of Mr. Romanov contributing anything to the campaign.” He turned briefly to his computer and typed out a command, his fingers sure and steady. He sort of reminded her of a spastic Sam. He focused the same way Sam did. Sam was only truly easy in her skin when she was in front of her beloved computers.

A list of names began to scroll down the screen. He stopped in the R’s. “Randall, Ramone, Ringstead, Rivers, Roper... No, I’m sorry.” He shook his head, his gaze intent on the screen. “There’s no Romanov listed.”

“Could he have contributed under an assumed name?”

“If he did, I wouldn’t have access to that information. I simply don’t have the authorization to search that deeply in the database.” He typed for a few seconds, his expression intent. “As far as I can tell, though, there have been no large donations either under Anonymous or one of the umbrella corporations owned by Mr. Romanov.”

“Are you sure?”

He nodded almost eagerly. “I’m sure. I’m sorry I couldn’t help you.” The disappointment on his face was almost comical.

“No, thank
you
, Mr. Cranston,” Beth murmured. Something was fishy. Sam was
never
wrong. She was adamant about making sure the data she passed on to her clients was one hundred percent accurate. So what the hell was going on with Cranston’s database? “You’ve been very helpful, indeed.” She held out her hand. “Thank you. If we need anything else we’ll be in contact.”

“You’re welcome, Ms. Rand.” Cranston shook her hand, his palm surprisingly cold. No wonder he constantly rubbed them together. He was trying to warm up. His smile was friendly. “I’m sorry I couldn’t have been of more assistance.”

Beth nodded and waved goodbye, making her way back to where Dante was finally hanging up the phone.

“What did Cranston say?”

“There’s no record of a Romanov contribution anywhere.” Beth pushed up her glasses. “What about you? Sense any woo-woo stuff?”

His brows rose. “Woo-woo?” He took hold of her arm and led her toward the door. Keeping his voice low he answered her question, but not the way she’d expected. “It’s all over the place, like one of those lingering farts.”

She bit her lip, trying not to laugh. “Men and their fart jokes.”

“This is no joke. It’s so thick I can’t tell where it came from. And it’s all over the place.” He tilted his head in thanks as she opened the door for him. “Speaking of farts, if Piotr made a donation and there’s no record of it, I say something definitely stinks.”

“You think we should go talk to Mr. Romanov?”

His expression turned grim. “Yeah. I think we should.”

“Do you think he has something to do with Jennifer’s death?” Beth let Dante get the car door for her. He hadn’t bitched when she’d gotten a door for him, and fair was fair.

“Not sure, but I know he’s up to
something
.”

Beth cocked an eyebrow, but didn’t reply. Andi trusted Piotr, and the man had come through for both Seth and Abby. So what was Dante’s problem with the man?

Chapter Eight

Piotr Romanov. Dante shuddered. That was one brother he wouldn’t mind seeing disappear. Why couldn’t it have been him instead of Rafael? Dante still had suspicions that their Romanov was related to the Shem’s leader, Ivan Romanov, but the last name was so common in Russia it was hard to tell. And with Piotr refusing to speak of it, there was no way to know for sure.

But he had his suspicions that the relationship was a lot closer than sharing a last name. He’d seen pictures of Ivan the Terrible, and the Shem leader had the same icy gray eyes as Piotr. If Piotr was related to Ivan then he could be a spy for the Shem. Gabriel’s cell was First, as Gabriel was the leader of all the Nephilim. Piotr could easily feed information to Ivan that could wipe out the Nephilim.

All right. There were two reasons, if he was being truly honest with himself.

Piotr hadn’t Fallen...yet.

No matter how many times Seth and Gabriel tried to reassure him, Dante couldn’t bring himself to trust the man. Piotr was cold and ruthless, and because he was a Cambion he was one of the few Nephilim who actually fed off of humans and remained a Neph. Any other Nephilim would become Shem if they lost themselves to the darkness by feeding from a human.

But Cambions
had
to feed in order to survive. Their strength was directly tied to how often, and how well, they fed. Their Incubus-like powers forced them to feed off the emotions of others, usually during sex, but unlike Incubi they didn’t need to kill. However, a Cambion who did kill would Fall, becoming a Shem Incubus.

As a Cambion, Piotr could read the emotions of those around him, meaning he knew
exactly
how Dante felt about him. To make matters worse, he could use his abilities on others, making them easier to influence. He could control their lust for violence, sex or any other emotion he desired. The stronger the emotion Piotr fed from, the stronger he became, until he was a match for a Legionnaire in strength and endurance.

Piotr wasn’t a stupid man. He was cold and vicious, but not stupid. An unfed Cambion was a weak Cambion, and Piotr, with his string of mistresses, made sure he was very well fed.

As far as Dante was concerned, there was only one hope of saving the cold son of a bitch. A Cambion who found their One—the only person in the world they could soul bond to—was incapable of Falling. But he’d have to be
willing
to find that One and claim her, giving up all other partners for her.

He doubted Piotr could ever be that unselfish.

“Mr. Romanov will see you now.”

He nodded his thanks to Piotr’s secretary, a young man who spoke with a confidence that surprised Dante. That had always confused him whenever he was forced to come to Piotr’s office. The Nephilim who knew Piotr were terrified of him.

The people who
worked
for him, however, worshipped the ground he walked on. That too made him suspicious.

Could he be using his powers to influence the humans around him?

“Thank you.” Elizabeth smiled at the young man when Dante didn’t respond.

Piotr Romanov waited for them behind his huge, antique mahogany desk—his expression unreadable. He was lean and sleek in his pearl-gray Armani suit, a silver clip holding back his long blond hair. His eyes glittered like twin shards of ice, so light in color they almost appeared colorless. His was the face of an evil sorcerer, thin and mocking and utterly beautiful, and women fell all over themselves to climb into his bed.

Dante didn’t see the appeal.

True, when Piotr moved it was with an old-world elegance rarely seen today. He glided toward them with predatory grace, and Elizabeth tensed. “Detective Zucco. How nice to see you.” He had a slight accent that hinted at his Russian ancestry.

Dante scowled. “Wish I could say the same.”

“Charming, as always.” Piotr’s gaze turned toward Elizabeth, and Dante held his inner fire back by sheer force of will. The Cambion should not be looking at Elizabeth that way, heat turning his silver gaze molten. “And who might this be?”

“Mine,” Dante snarled without thought.

Piotr stared at him, shock racing across his features before he schooled them once more into his normal, arrogant calmness.

Elizabeth elbowed Dante in the side hard enough to nearly stagger him, then held out her hand to Piotr. “Elizabeth Rand, P.I. I don’t think we’ve ever met in person. I worked the Marcheson case.”

“Ah.” Piotr glided forward and lifted her hand to his lips. At the last moment, he turned her hand so that his greeting kiss was planted on her wrist instead of her knuckles. “Charmed, Ms. Rand.” The look he shot Dante was full of wicked challenge before he turned his attention once more to Elizabeth. “And how may I help you this fine day?”

Elizabeth removed her hand from Piotr’s grip. “We’d like to know about your contributions to Todd Blessing’s gubernatorial campaign.”

Romanov hesitated briefly before replying. “What makes you think I contributed to the Blessing campaign? Romanov Enterprises is not interested in politics.”

“We have reason to believe that these were private funds you gave to the campaign, Mr. Romanov.”

“I’m afraid you must be mistaken.” Piotr’s voice was steady, but something in his expression seemed off somehow, as if they’d managed to startle him and he was desperately trying to hide it.

“Seven hundred and fifty thousand dollars was stolen from the Blessing campaign.” Beth stared at Piotr with the best poker face Dante had seen in some time. “According to my source, you contributed seven hundred and fifty thousand dollars. Your file is the only one that’s missing, and now you tell me that you didn’t contribute anything to the Blessing campaign. Are you sure of that, Piotr?”

Piotr smiled. “I think I would notice if I was missing three quarters of a million dollars. Even I am not
that
wealthy.” He stood, all dignity and ice. “Will that be all, Detective?”

Dante stood and Beth followed suit. “For now, yes. We’ll be back.” Dante took the hand that Piotr offered and shook it.

Piotr stared, his gaze sharp and focused. “
Prebyvaniem bezopasny
,
moĭ brat.
”

Dante froze. The traditional parting words the Neph gave one another almost choked him as he gave them back to a man he in no way considered his brother. “Stay safe, my brother.”

The mocking smile Piotr gave them as they left stayed with him all the way to the car. Why would Piotr, who knew Dante loathed him, give him the traditional parting?

And why had he seemed so intent as he said it? What the hell did the son of a bitch know, and how much of a part did he have to play in Jennifer Blake’s murder?

Dante needed to speak to Gabriel, yesterday. Piotr was in this up to his long blond hair, and the archangel needed to know before Piotr destroyed them all.

* * *

Dante dropped Beth off with a reminder about their date that night before taking off. She walked up to her apartment, her mind whirling, but not with thoughts of Dante. Or at least not the thoughts she should have been having.

Something about the interview with Piotr Romanov had bothered him, badly.

Was Piotr Romanov one of
them?
Somehow she wouldn’t be surprised to find out that one of the scariest people in the United States was the descendant of fallen angels. It would fit, both with his looks and his charm. There was a predator that lived within Piotr Romanov, one he kept on a tight leash.

One Dante didn’t trust.

However, Piotr had come through for Seth and Abby, giving them a safe place to stay when Abby was being stalked by Diana. Even more importantly, Andi trusted Piotr, and for that reason Beth was inclined to give him the benefit of the doubt. She’d have to make a call to her best buddy when she had a moment or two to breathe.

Dante’s issues with him would be addressed. She’d listen to what he had to say and decide for herself if Piotr was someone she could count on.

But her instincts—the ones she listened to without fail—told her Piotr Romanov only
appeared
cold. There was something more, a loneliness when he stared at Dante, a longing for...

Ugh. She couldn’t quite place her finger on what that fleeting expression on Piotr’s face had been. It wasn’t sexual, it was...

Familial.

That made no sense whatsoever, but it was the closest she could come.

Beth packed up her gym bag and headed for the dojo. She needed some time to decompress, to allow everything she’d learned to percolate through her brain before she came to any conclusions, either about their case or Piotr Romanov. And the best way to do that was to get her ass thoroughly whipped.

She strode into the dojo, ready to work out some stress. “Hey, Sensei.”

Cheyenne Jones, one of the smallest and toughest women Beth had ever met, waved cheerfully. “Hey, Beth. Haven’t seen you in a few days.”

Beth grinned. “Work, work, work.”

Her Sensei laughed. “I hear ya.” The woman’s Carolina drawl was thick with amusement. “Ready to work, work, work some more?”

“I hate you.” Beth sighed. She changed into her gi quickly, the routine familiar. When she stepped onto the mat, she bowed to her sensei, ready to warm up and spar.

Beth fought hard and furious, and still knew she was going to lose. Sensei flipped her on her back and hit her with the touch that signified a disabling blow embarrassingly quickly.

“Damn it, Beth! What the hell is wrong with you tonight? Your mind is all over the place. I should never have landed that move on you, girl!” The normally slow Carolina drawl was quick, disgusted.

Beth panted and pushed her sweat-dampened hair out of her face, staring sheepishly at the diminutive woman who stood over her. Sensei had her hands on her hips, a sure sign that she was displeased. Beth winced as she thought of what Sensei was going to put her through for her inattention. “Um. I have a date.”

“A date.”

Damn, someone was
not
amused. She knew better than to bring her stress onto the mat. “And I have a new case that’s driving me insane.”

“You always have cases that make you crazy. What’s different with this one?”

Like Beth could tell her
I
think scary angel-monsters ate a woman who was stealing money from a politician.

Then again, considering how her sensei felt about politicians...

Nope. She couldn’t do it. “Sorry, Sensei.” She pushed to her feet as gracefully as she could, then bowed to her. “My case this time is...difficult to describe. Someone’s dead, and the widower hired me to find the killer.”

Sensei bowed back. “I’m sorry to hear that. But that makes me more determined to get you to pay attention this time. If you get distracted in a fight you could wind up dead.”

Sensei was right. She’d get sympathy from her friend off the mat.

On it, she’d better get her ass in gear or her sensei would hand it to her.

Beth winced, then took her stance. “Yes, Sensei.”

The women faced one another across the expanse of pads. Sensei began her attack, and Beth met it with all the concentration she could. She let go of the case, of Dante, of all of it. She still lost, but this time her sensei nodded her head in apparent satisfaction. “Better. More like what I expect from one of my top students.”

Beth grinned. She currently was listed by the school as holding a second-degree brown-belt. Sensei claimed belts only counted if they held up your pants. Talent, skill, knowledge and the wisdom to know when to use them were what counted with Cheyenne Jones. She handed out belts for the kids and adults who thought they really counted, but by the time her students hit the Brown, she’d told them what she
really
thought. The good students agreed with her.

Not many of the bad ones graduated to the Brown, let alone Black.

“Next time you step in here, try to keep your troubles off the mat. You know better than that.”

Beth took her head out from under her towel and looked down at her sensei.

“Sorry.” She ducked back under the towel to hide her embarrassment.

The towel was ripped off her head with a swiftness that had Beth gasping. “If you want a different lesson, we could go right back out on the mat. I can make
sure
you remember it too.”

Beth faced her sensei with respect. “Yes, Sensei.”

Jones snorted with amusement. “Taking your emotions into a fight will get you killed.” She turned to walk away, stepping off the mat, and Beth let out a brief sigh of relief.

“Oh, and, Beth?”

“Yeah?” She whipped the towel from around her neck.

Cheyenne, once more just her friend now that she was off the sparring mat, winked. “Have fun on your date tonight.”

Beth groaned, all the tension she’d come to work off returning in a rush of adrenaline. “I hate you
so much.
”

* * *

Dante made his way to Gabriel’s home. He was no closer to finding either of the Shem he’d been sent to hunt.

He needed the help of his brothers.

He pulled up outside the house, surprised to see that there were no cars in the driveway. There were usually one or two cars present at all times, since some of the brothers chose to live with Gabriel rather than on their own. But with Rafe still missing, it was possible his brothers were out hunting for him. Gio especially wouldn’t give up until Rafe was safe at home with them.

The front door opened just as Dante reached for the bell. Gabriel smiled, waving him inside. “I was wondering when you would show up.”

Dante entered the warmth of the angel’s home, a sense of peace and purpose filling him. He always felt safe in Gabriel’s house. The angel wouldn’t allow any harm to come to him.

But he had a job to do. “I’m having some difficulty with the hunts.” Gabriel led the way to the kitchen. Usually they discussed business in Gabriel’s living room, but today his boss looked tired, worn down. “Damien and Seth are helping to hunt down the Shem Angelus, but so far we haven’t had any luck finding him.” Dante took a deep breath. “He made a threat I’m taking
very
seriously.”