Nocturnal Part 19

His smile turned sheepish, releasing my hand to rub the back of his neck and glance at H&W's receptionist. Jenny was watching us over the rims of her gla.s.ses with interest, her hands stilled over her computer keyboard.

"I wanted to stop by and see how you're doing, and drop something off. Can we go in your office?"

"Of course."

Once the door shut behind us, the tension in Arnold's skinny shoulders relaxed and his green eyes lit up with excitement. He dug through the pockets of his jacket, producing a rumpled envelope and pa.s.sing it over as I took a seat on the edge of my desk. He paced back and forth in the small office, watching my brows shoot up as I withdrew a check made out to H&W Investigations for just shy of a hundred grand. It was more money than Shiarra and I usually made in six months.

Arnold was smug when he answered my questioning look. "Payment for services rendered. Since Veronica is dead and the Dominari Dominari Focus was destroyed, the Financial Planning Committee tried to table it. I had to fight tooth and nail to get the purchase order pushed through." Focus was destroyed, the Financial Planning Committee tried to table it. I had to fight tooth and nail to get the purchase order pushed through."

"Lord. I didn't think we'd ever have anything to show for it," I said, shaking my head incredulously. "When I called a few weeks ago, the receptionist pa.s.sed me around a bit, but n.o.body ever answered my questions or got back to me."

"Yeah. I figured something like that was happening when I overheard the new VP of acquisitions laughing about it. You two went through a lot of trouble for The Circle. It's only fair since it was our fault Shiarra got mixed up with Royce to begin with. She did her job. She deserves to get paid for it."

I grinned, putting the check down and hopping off the desk to wrap my arms around Arnold in a hug, appreciating the firm play of muscles in his shoulders, hardly noticing the ever-present tingling I felt whenever I touched him. He was lean but strong. At first he stiffened at the touch, but as soon as he got over the shock he returned the gesture, sliding his arms around me. He radiated warmth and the scent of ash, though it wasn't unpleasant. In fact, after being around the vampires last night, it was positively refreshing.

When I abruptly recalled the ink-stained hands on me belonged to a mage, I pulled away, fighting a shudder.

"Sorry," he said, though he appeared more puzzled than apologetic.

Ducking my head to hide the blush to my cheeks, I shrugged and took as brisk and nonchalant a tone as I could. "No, I should be the one apologizing. That was a bit forward of me."

"Don't mention it."

"Well. Thank you for everything."

"Sure," he replied, brows furrowing. "Wow, that really got weird, didn't it?"

I smiled ruefully, regretting my impulsiveness. It was completely unlike me and very unprofessional. Even if he'd helped save my life, I didn't know him well enough to be familiarizing myself with the firmness of his muscles or contours of his body.

"I'm sorry," I stammered. "I don't know what came over me."

That wasn't true. John's heavy advances and the worry about being surrounded by undead things made me appreciate Arnold's presence more than usual. He was a mage, but he was also more human than monster.

Also, geeky as he was, right now I found him easier to get along with than my boyfriend. That last conversation with Mark had left me stinging. We'd had arguments plenty of times before, often along the lines of him demanding I stop risking my life with "that silly PI business" and me telling him what an uptight, s.e.xist prig he was being. It never failed to make me cry. He used the same points my parents had when we argued over my going into business with Shiarra.

Arnold's supportive actions put him in a different light. We hadn't had much time to get to know each other while we'd been fighting for our lives a couple of months earlier, and though we'd chatted now and again at the hospital, neither one of us had made any special effort to see each other. Yet he obviously cared about me. Even now, he was being apologetic when I was the one who'd acted like an a.s.s.

Maybe I needed more friends like him around. Why couldn't Mark see what Shiarra and I did was important, like Arnold did?

"Look," I said, rubbing at my temples, "I'm not handling this very well. My boyfriend and I had a little spat while I was on my way over, so I know I'm acting a bit weird. But I'd like to do something to thank you for what you've done for Shia. And for me. I just can't think of something that doesn't come off like I'm asking you on a date-so bear with me here."

He blinked rather owlishly at me from behind the thick lenses of his gla.s.ses before cracking a smile. "Don't sweat it. We can go for the platonic approach. Why don't you come out with me and a few of my buddies tonight? We'll go see a movie or something. Should be a nice change without vampires and werewolves coming along to stir things up."

"Er, about that. I'm still doing that job for Royce. I might have to work tonight."

He hesitated, and I got the feeling he was gathering his thoughts to start spouting the same hyperbole Mark always threw at me when I accepted a dangerous job.

Rather than give him the opportunity to chastise me, I was quick to rea.s.sure him. "Don't worry, I know what it's about now and it's nothing serious. Some other PI has been nosing around in his business. I just have to find out what he's after and report back. As soon as I find out, my job is done."

"Any idea how you're going to do that?"

"Sort of. It shouldn't be too hard. Just don't tell Shia about this, please?"

"I won't. Look, it's not like you don't already know vamps are dangerous, but I don't want anything bad to happen to you. Do you mind if I work with you on this one? I can make sure they don't try any funny stuff."

I bit my lower lip to keep from saying something that would win me an award for best foot-in-mouth performance, opting for a nod in reply. He grinned at my reaction.

"Good," he said. "I'll be in touch."

Chapter 4.

Arnold had to go back to work for a while, but he promised to meet me afterward. As he left, Jen watched us with the kind of interest and attention to detail I wished she'd apply to those ledgers she was supposed to be working on. When Arnold noticed her avid curiosity, he affected a comically exaggerated male swagger. Both of us watched him go with wide eyes. Though Arnold and I hadn't been doing anything to merit it, I blushed at Jen's raucous wolf whistle after the mage was gone.

"What a b.u.t.t on that one. Yowzah! Hey, what happened to Officer What's-his-name?"

"Officer What's-his-name is still my boyfriend. Arnold's just a friend." I frowned at her knowing look. "Go on, get back to work. You can daydream about somebody else's b.u.t.t while you get those spreadsheets done."

She sighed theatrically and made a big production about getting back to balancing the accounts.

Grinning, I returned to my office. With Arnold to back me up, this c.r.a.ppy job for Royce should be done before the end of the night. Even knowing the next item on my to-do list was to call Joe Finnegan couldn't drag me down.

A quick search through my Rolodex brought up Pro-Detection, and I tapped my nails lightly on the desk as I waited for someone to pick up. I was starting to think Joe must have changed his number when a gruff voice came on the other end of the line.

"Pro-Detection. This is Finnegan."

"Joe," I said, doing my best to sound friendly and cordial, "this is Sara Halloway from H&W. You remember me?"

"Yeah. You and Sheena or Sheila or whatever her name is were on the news every night for a month. How could I forget?"

I ignored his sour tone as best I could.

"It's Shiarra. Hey, listen, I know it's not really any of my business, but I want to ask a favor, one professional to another." I grimaced at the bitter harrumph on the other end of the line. There was no love lost between H&W and Pro-Detection, but I pressed on anyway, hoping for the best. "We might be able to exchange some info and both get paid."

"You gonna pay my bills, sweet cheeks?"

I had to stop and take a breath, silently counting to ten before continuing. If I didn't, I might say something I'd regret. Joe was just trying to rile me, that was all. If I kept my head, I'd be okay. I might even get everything I needed in this phone call. My false cheeriness was replaced by cool, professional dislike. There wasn't any point in sugarcoating my words anymore. It wasn't like he didn't already know I detested him.

"Alec Royce hired me to find out what you're after. Up for a trade?"

Joe laughed derisively. I held the phone away from my ear until his hoa.r.s.e guffaws settled down.

"Man, you aren't shy about asking for what you want. I doubt you could get me what I need, girlie."

I loosened my grip on the phone when the plastic squeaked in protest. "I'll give it my best. What do you need?" Aside from a boot up the a.s.s, Aside from a boot up the a.s.s, I carefully didn't add. I carefully didn't add.

"I need info from the inside, not a hired hand."

"Try me."

"That an offer, doll-face?" He laughed at my stony silence. "Tell me something first. You contracted to that leech?"

I started, leaning forward in the squeaky office chair. The guy was despicable, but even with the snide remarks and undisguised innuendos, he was getting to the point. Despite the disgustingly personal nature of the question, it must be important.

"Of course not. What does that have to do with anything?"

"Everything and nothing. Here's your professional favor. Take my advice and stay as far from Alec Royce as you can get. Don't be seen anywhere near him or his people. And, before you go, you can tell him the Anti-Others are coming."

"What?" I asked the question to a dead line. Joe had hung up on me.

"b.a.s.t.a.r.d," I muttered, putting the phone back on the cradle and leaning back in the chair to consider his words.

If Joe's employer was the Anti-Other Alliance, Royce was in some serious peril. Members of the AOA were considerably more dangerous than the White Hats.

The White Hats were a bunch of vigilante Other hunters. Shiarra had gotten a few of her vampire-hunting weapons from them a while back. The leader of the local chapter, Jack, had attempted to recruit her to their cause at knifepoint. It didn't matter to the White Hats that any supernatural creatures who valued their (un)lives legally contracted the humans they took to be their honey, their lunch, or made into another Other. It also didn't deter some of the more extremist White Hats that in forty or so states it was illegal to kill Others without a signed warrant. The hunters hated anything humanoid with fur, fangs, or claws, and would gladly use every dirty trick they could to hunt one down. News reports where the White Hats proudly claimed responsibility for burning down buildings, defacing Other-owned properties or Other-sympathizers' homes, and staging violent protests outside Other-run establishments were not uncommon.

The White Hats considered members of the AOA too extreme to be part of their organization.

Oh well. The AOA didn't have problems with full-blood humans unless we showed very publicly that we were sympathetic to Others. Unless they showed up on my doorstep, the hunters weren't my problem. Knowing they were Joe's employers should be enough information to turn over to Angus and call this job quits. Joe must have been searching for information on which of Royce's employees were vampires, their schedules, that sort of thing, to pa.s.s on to the Anti-Other Alliance. It was unlikely the hunters were interested in anything else.

The lecherous p.r.i.c.k was right about one thing-I needed to stay away from the vamps. That thought in mind, I dug Angus's business card out of my purse and called the daytime number, intending to leave a message and be done with it. Hopefully Royce would consider the information enough not to need me for anything else.

"h.e.l.lo?" The voice on the other end wasn't deep or accented enough to be Angus's.

I frowned down at the card, noting the name and t.i.tle above the phone number. "Hi, this is Sara Halloway from H&W Investigations. Is Mr. MacLeod in?"

"Sorry, no, he's resting at the moment. He told me you might call. Did you get any word about that guy? I can pa.s.s it on to Mr. Royce."

"Yes, I did. Joe Finnegan was hired by the Anti-Other Alliance to investigate the clubs. He didn't say specifically what he's after but I imagine he's trying to find out which employees are Others and what their work habits are."

"Gotcha. I'll let him know," the man said. "He'll be at The Underground at nine tonight; meet him there. Thanks for calling."

Before I could ask the guy's name, protest about having to meet Royce again, or anything else, he'd hung up. Miffed at the treatment, I dropped the phone and glared at it.

"f.u.c.king fantastic," I growled. Maybe Arnold would come with me when I went to meet with the vampires tonight. Hopefully the AOA wouldn't notice me, John would get the hint, and Arnold would keep me safe.

Maybe I should ask Shiarra if I could borrow her guns and vampire-slaying belt. Ugh.

Chapter 5.

Jen left early for a dentist appointment. I didn't mind holding the fort by myself. Shiarra, when she wasn't in the hospital, took the bulk of the surveillance and undercover jobs. My specialty-locating missing people, referred to as skip tracing in the industry-usually kept me in the office. With the advent of the Internet, my job had become much easier.

Of course, there were times when I had to get off my b.u.t.t to verify leads and I did take on the occasional surveillance gig myself. With Shiarra out of commission, Jen got a lot of overtime, which H&W couldn't really support, to handle the research I normally did, and I ended up doing all the footwork. While I'd always appreciated her hard work, I hadn't realized how much I depended on Shiarra to handle the more confrontational end of the business until her unexpected "vacation" in the hospital.

Without Jen on the phones, I couldn't leave the office today until close of business. I used the time to catch up on outstanding status reports to clients, checking and returning a handful of voice mails, wrapping up the only skip tracing job Jen wasn't able to do, and fitting in a few rousing games of solitaire.

Right as I was considering calling it a day and locking up early, three men walked in, peering around the tiny lobby. I've usually got a good memory for faces; the short reddish hair and sharp facial planes of the guy in the lead triggered something, but I wasn't sure where I'd seen him before. They were all dressed casually: jeans, T-shirts, light jackets. Clean-cut, nothing alarming about them at first glance, save for the unmistakable lumps of concealed firearms on the two flanking the one I'd recognized and a barely visible boot knife on the leader. Rising, I called out a hasty greeting.

"Good afternoon. Can I help you gentlemen?"

The two bigger guys settled into a cla.s.sic bodyguard stance on either side of the front door, arms folded across their chests. The leader approached my office, gesturing for me to sit back down. There was a strange scar on his palm, like he'd been branded, but I didn't get a close enough look to see what it was before he lowered his hand. His smile was friendly, cordial; the predatory glitter to his eyes was anything but.

"Ms. Halloway? Ms. Sara Jane Halloway?"

"Yes," I said, frowning and remaining on my feet. He settled easily into the chair in front of my desk, unperturbed by my wary reaction. "Who are you? What can I do for you?"

"That's not important. I'm just here to deliver a message." His eyes reminded me of a snake; he never blinked, just stared. "A friend of yours asked us to leave you alone, as a professional favor. We won't be able to keep our promise if you keep meddling in our business."

"What's your business, then?" His threat wasn't terribly well veiled, but if he meant to hurt me, he would've done it already. I settled down in my seat, folding my hands together as I leaned forward against the desk. "And who's the friend you're talking about?"

Instead of answering, he pulled a pack of cigarettes and a lighter out of his breast pocket, ignoring my look of distaste as he lit up. Only after the pack was tucked away and a ring of foul-smelling smoke wafted toward me did he answer. My eyes watered, but I didn't give him the satisfaction of drawing away.

"You've attracted the attention of the Anti-Other Alliance, little lady."

My heart skipped a beat at his answer. It took all I had not to jerk away from him. The AOA-live and in person at my office. Just how I wanted to end my day.

"You're running with a dangerous crowd. Your buddy Jack asked Mr. Morgan to have us give you and your redheaded friend a wide berth. This is just a friendly reminder to stay the f.u.c.k away from the leeches so we don't have to mow you down on our way to them. Understand?"

My mouth was so dry, my voice rasped when I answered. "I understand."

His pleasant smile widened. I gasped and pulled back when he reached for me, but his fingers tangled in my shirt before I could get very far. His guards did nothing, watching with identical bored expressions as he yanked me sprawling on top of my desk, pinning me there. He plucked the cigarette from his lips and held the glowing tip less than an inch from my left eye as he continued, the heat and smoke making it sting.

"You're a pretty thing. I should do you a favor-make you less pretty, so the leeches don't take you, too. Jack would agree."

"Please don't," I whispered, too afraid to struggle. What if he jabbed me with that thing? The heat, I could feel the heat pulsing right by my eye. A few stray strands of hair against my cheek were curling and blackening from the proximity of that cherry glow. Oh, G.o.d, if I moved- "No," he said, more an afterthought than anything. "No, I think you get the point. Don't you?"

"I get it! Let go!"

He did. As soon as his fingers loosened, I thrust myself back until I was tripping over my own chair, pressed against the far wall. His expression never changed.

"Remember, stay away from the vampires. If you don't..."

I cringed as he put out the cigarette on my desk, leaving an ashy smear on the polished surface.

Without a backward glance, he left, his two goons following in his wake. One of them had the gall to wink and leer at me before closing the door behind him, the hunters' shadows against the beveled gla.s.s quickly fading out of view.

Shaking, I pulled my chair over and slowly lowered myself into it, my gaze sliding to the burn mark on the faded oak. That could have been my face. My eye. Shuddering, I plucked the b.u.t.t off the desk and put it in the trash to get it out of my sight, then picked up the phone and dialed Mark. Maybe he'd know what to do. The phone rang nine times before he picked up.