Something wet dripped onto his forearm, and Drake realized Michael was silently crying for his dead brother. He cursed under his breath, wishing he didn’t have to make an intolerable situation worse. However, it had been quite clear from the moment the four Guardians had burst into the house that they were not prepared to listen to reason. Grabbing one as a hostage was the easiest way to make sure no one got hurt, and Michael had come at him first.
Carter called Eli during the drive over, so by the time they arrived at the house, the gate was standing open. Eli was waiting for them by the front door when they pulled up. Trusting that Eli could keep the Guardians contained, if not exactly controlled, Drake released Michael’s neck. “Sorry about that,” he said, pushing the door open and pretending not to notice the kid swiping at his eyes.
Michael was far enough gone that when he stumbled out of the car, he reached out to steady himself by putting his bare hand on the open door. He yelped in pain, snatching his hand away and sticking it under his arm. It was a testament to how enraged the Guardians had been that they’d risked the dangers of an automobile to hurry to the scene—it was so easy to carelessly brush against the exposed, iron-laden steel and gain a nasty burn.
“Thomas is dead!” Carter proclaimed loudly, though he had already conveyed this fact on the phone. Michael flinched, and Drake wished the asshole had had more tact. “What are you going to do about it, Eli?” Carter continued.
Eli’s eyes looked old and tired suddenly, but he spoke in his habitual calm tone. “Let’s all go inside. It’s cold out here.”
But Carter shook his head. “I’m not going anywhere with him!” He jerked a thumb at Drake. His flunkies murmured agreement, though Michael stood still and quiet, perhaps in shock.
“As you wish,” Eli said, then turned to Drake. “Come inside.” Drake started forward, and the Guardians grumbled loudly. Eli swept them with a commanding glance, but it didn’t still their grumbling. “You should at least come in and get that hand tended to, Michael,” Eli continued.
“We can take care of his hand, you heartless bastard!” Carter spat. “You’re protecting a Killer! That’s not what the Guardians are about, Eli.”
Eli snorted. “I founded the Guardians, Tim. I know perfectly well what they’re about, and it’s not about killing anyone they merely suspect of wrongdoing.”
“He was at the scene!”
“Thomas called me!” Drake retorted. “He sounded panicked, and the line went dead before he finished. I was trying to help him.”
He might as well have been speaking to stones for all they listened—except for Michael, who frowned like he might actually be considering Drake’s words. He, who had the most understandable cause to be reacting with pure emotion, seemed still to have a spark of intelligence in him.
“I want to hear the rest of it,” he said, but his three companions were unmoved.
“If you want to sit down with your brother’s killer, then you can do it alone!” Carter said, stomping over to his car and jerking the door open. The other two followed his lead. Carter slammed his door and started the car, giving Michael a long stare before realizing he wasn’t coming.
The tires shrieked, filling the air with the reek of burning rubber. The car roared down the driveway and out the gates. Michael stared after it for a moment, then mounted the short flight of steps up to the porch where Drake and Eli stood. He regarded Drake with flat, dead eyes.
“If I find out you killed my brother, I’ll find a way to kill you. I don’t care how much older or how much stronger you are. I’ll find a way, and it won’t be quick.”
Drake nodded an acknowledgment, but he was only being … polite. If he had killed Thomas Freeman, and if he’d thought Michael capable of making good on his threat, then the young fool would have just signed his execution order.
Realizing it could be quite some time before he stepped out again, Drake entered Eli’s house.
15
CAROLYN EMERGED FROM AN extra-hot, extra-steamy shower feeling relaxed and languid, despite the lingering soreness between her legs. A smile played about the corners of her mouth as she cleared the steam from the mirror and toweled her hair. That had been some of the best sex she’d ever had, though admittedly her experience was scant with anyone but Gray. She hoped the rooms adjoining theirs were empty—or that the occupants were very sound sleepers.
She pushed open the bathroom door and padded quietly into the room. Not that it mattered if she was quiet. She knew from experience how soundly Gray slept during the daytime. The bedside clock declared it was ten, and hints of sunlight glimmered around the edges of the heavy drapes. Gray was buried under the covers, only a few stray locks of black hair peeking out from underneath. Naked, she sat on the bed beside him, running her hand over the solid muscles of his hip and thigh, wishing she could touch him skin to skin instead of through the layers of covers.
Gray was out cold, giving no hint that he felt her caress. She sighed. It was going to be a long, long day if she was just going to sit here keeping watch.
Reminding herself that she didn’t have to be quiet, she picked up the phone and dialed Hannah’s apartment. Hannah answered on the third ring.
“Hey, girl,” Hannah said. “You still with Dracula?” Carolyn rolled her eyes. “Yeah, I’m still with Gray. He’s asleep now.”
“Dead to the world, even.”
“Ha ha ha. So, anyone come looking for him last night?”
“Matter of fact, I did have another nocturnal visitor.”
“Jules?” Carolyn guessed.
“Yup. He seemed a little peeved.”
“I’ll bet. What did you tell him?”
“I tried to stonewall him at first, but that wasn’t working. So I told him the truth—you and Gray left together and I didn’t know where you went.” She cleared her throat. “I, uh, blanked out for a while in the middle of everything. I assume he tried to pry the truth out of me with glamour, which means I probably mentioned you were at a hotel. Sorry.”
“Don’t worry about it. Do you have any idea how many hotels there are in the city?”
“No, but I suggest you move to a different one tonight. You should have called on your cell. Thanks to the wonders of caller ID, I now know where you are. It’s probably better that I don’t know.”
“Thanks for the warning.”
“So, what’s the plan?”
“First, I want to stop by Gray’s place and dust for fingerprints. Whoever let him out last night must have touched at least the front door and the basement door.”
“Yeah, but he could have been wearing gloves.”
“True,” Carolyn agreed, “but he might not. Why should he be so cautious at Gray’s place? It’s not like he’d be expecting the CSU to be dusting for fingerprints there.”
“Good point. So you going to leave Dracula alone in the room while you’re gone?”
Carolyn grimaced at how easily Hannah read her mind. “I was kinda wondering if you’d keep watch on him for a couple of hours.”
Hannah’s sigh was dramatic and long-suffering. “The things I’m willing to do out of friendship!”
Carolyn laughed. “My heart bleeds for you. Now move your butt.”
“I’ll be right over.”
After hanging up, Carolyn got dressed, picking up Gray’s clothes and folding them neatly. She wondered if the room smelled like sex. She sniffed, but if the scent lingered she was too acclimated to notice. No doubt she’d be subject to a lecture or two from Hannah if her best friend guessed what she’d been up to in the night.
HANNAH’S IDEA OF “RIGHT OVER” and Carolyn’s differed by at least a half hour, so it was almost noon by the time Carolyn got going. This annoyed Carolyn, because she had to do her investigative work during the daytime and there were only so many hours of daylight available this deep in the winter. Hannah had given her an uncomfortably knowing look when she’d stepped into the room, but blessedly refrained from comment. Maybe that was just because
Carolyn hurried out so fast.
She stopped by her house to pick up her digital camera, then took a cab to Gray’s. She strode up to his door as if she belonged there, and no one gave her a second glance. Carefully, she twisted the doorknob with her gloved hand. As she’d expected, the door was unlocked—if the killer had removed Gray from the premises under glamour, she’d figured he wouldn’t stop to lock the door on the way out. Much more convenient than having to break in again.
She pushed the door closed. She would dust the front doorknob only if she didn’t find any other usable prints. She figured even in the live-and-let-live city someone might notice her dusting the front door and wonder what the hell she was doing.
The inside of the front door yielded a number of good, clear prints. She had Gray’s fingerprint cards in her pocketbook and did her best to identify his prints by eyeballing them under a magnifying glass. She wasn’t exactly what you’d call an expert, but she managed to eliminate some of them with a reasonable level of certainty. She photographed all of them anyway, then moved on to the basement door.
The fingerprint dust revealed another generous collection of prints. Again, she photographed them, then carefully lifted them, sticking them on the backs of index cards and documenting where exactly she’d found them.
The whole process took about two hours, and she had to fight against impatience. She’d never before been quite this aware of the ticking clock during an investigation, and the added pressure was distinctly unwelcome.
She hurried home to download the pictures onto her PC. Then she began the painstaking business of trying to separate the prints into groups. At a generous magnification on her screen, it was reasonably easy to identify which prints came from different fingers. Once again she compared the prints to the ones she’d taken of Gray, dropping from consideration the ones that looked to be his.
From the remaining prints, she was able to discern at least two individuals based on nice, clear thumb prints. She brought up the file containing the pictures of the smudged partial she’d lifted from the envelope. Her pulse kicked up a notch when it seemed to match one of the thumb prints. Of course, it was only a partial, and she was doing her matching by the incredibly scientific method of eyeballing, but she still felt she had reason to suspect she was looking at the killer’s print.
She glanced at the time on her computer’s Start bar and cursed. It was already after five o’clock. The sun would be down soon. Hannah was probably going to read her the riot act for being gone so long. Carolyn quickly dialed the Marriott to assure her friend she wasn’t dead.
“Where are you?” Hannah demanded the moment she answered the phone.
“At home, but I’m just about to leave.”
“Yeah, well you’d better move it. Dracula isn’t sleeping so soundly anymore.”
“Will you stop calling him that?”
“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Just move your ass. I don’t particularly want to be the one to explain to him where you are, okay?”
“I’m coming,” Carolyn assured her. “I’ll catch a cab and be there in fifteen minutes, tops.” Which should be just in time to be there when Gray awoke, as long as she didn’t have any trouble finding a cab. She hung up, then printed out a couple large-scale images of the suspicious prints. Hoping she wasn’t forgetting anything in the sudden rush, she hurried to the door.
She pulled the door open, then swallowed a scream when she almost slammed into a dark figure blocking the doorway. A rakish hat shadowed his eyes, and a cashmere scarf wound around his nose and mouth, but she had no trouble recognizing Jules. Her heart leapt into her throat and she glanced up at the sky. The sun was still up, but barely.
“May I come in?” Jules asked, his voice muffled by the scarf.
She stammered and he stepped into her, forcing her to take a step backward. He took the door from her nerveless fingers, pushing it shut behind him, then pulled the scarf away from his nose and mouth. His handsome face held a sardonic smile and no hint of threat.
“How can you be awake right now?” she asked.
“The light bothers us less as we get older. I am one of the oldest vampires in the city, so I can venture forth a little before sunset.” His smile turned from sardonic to smug. “I figured you wouldn’t know that and I might be able to run into you.”
Mentally, she recited a list of the foulest curses she’d ever heard in her years on the force. If Jules was the Banger, as Gray seemed to suspect—or hope—then she was dead. Careful not to make eye contact, she crossed her arms over her chest. It was supposed to look like a defensive posture, but she managed to snake her fingers into the gap of her coat. If she moved slowly enough and kept him distracted, maybe she could get to her gun.
“Gray didn’t do it,” she said.
Jules chuckled. “Your loyalty is touching. But the evidence is rather damning, my dear.”
“Of course it is,” she agreed, her fingers working their way steadily deeper into her coat. “If you’re trying to frame someone, you do try to make the evidence look damning.”
“How does he explain his presence at the scene of the crime?”
Her chin started to lift almost of its own accord. She closed her eyes and fought the pull of his glamour. “He said someone came to his house and hit him with a very powerful glamour. He thinks you might be that someone.”
Another chuckle, tinged perhaps with a touch of bitterness. “Yes, he would try to point the finger in my direction. Trou d’cul.”
“I was at his house today. I dusted the basement door for fingerprints, and I found a couple I couldn’t identify. They weren’t Gray’s.”
“And?”
“And one of them seems to match a print I lifted off the envelope that threatening note came in. It wasn’t Gray’s,” she repeated. If Gray’s suspicion was correct and Jules was the Banger, no doubt she was well on the way to getting herself killed. But though the man was unquestionably a jerk, her gut told her he wasn’t the killer. “Would you be willing to give me your thumb print?”
Jules hesitated for a long moment, and her pulse rose another notch. She risked a quick glace at his face and saw the furrow of puzzled concentration between his brows. Then he seemed to come to a decision.
“I will give you a thumb print if you will take me to Gray.”
“No deal,” she answered immediately. “You’ve already tried and convicted him in your mind, and I already know you can overpower him.”
“Your mysterious fingerprint has created a shadow of a doubt. I’m willing to withhold judgment for the time being.”
“How generous of you. No deal.”
He sighed. “You don’t understand. I can make you take me to him. Instead, I’m asking politely, and offering you something in return.”
She shut her eyes tightly. “You can’t make me do anything as long as my eyes are closed.” Her fingers brushed the butt of her gun, but her triumph was short lived when Jules’s hand closed around her wrist.
“How long do you think you can resist the pull?” he asked, and the compulsion to open her eyes became almost overpowering. “I have time.”
A thin sheen of perspiration broke out on her face and she bit her lip hard.
“This isn’t necessary,” Jules continued. “I give you my word that I won’t harm him unless there is absolute proof he is the Banger.”
“And I should trust your word?”
“When you know you have no alternative, yes.”
She let out a long, slow breath, knowing he was right. Hoping she wasn’t condemning Gray, she opened her eyes.
GRAY STRETCHED, SLOWLY AND thoroughly. His muscles were pleasantly stiff from his … exertions last night, and he had the vampire equivalent to the morning hard-on. Would Carolyn be up for another go? He smiled and pushed the covers away from his face.
The smile vanished when he saw Hannah sitting cross-legged on the other bed. She held a hand up over her eyes.
“Please don’t get up,” she said, snicke
ring.
He shifted his position under the covers, hoping she hadn’t noticed his boner. “What are you doing here?”
She dropped her hand away from her eyes. “Gee, Gray, I’m glad you appreciate me spending several hours of my life standing guard over you so you wouldn’t get burned to a crisp by the sunlight Your gratitude just gets me right here.” She thumped her breastbone.
“Enough with the dramatics! You know what I mean.”
Hannah wrinkled her pert little nose. “Carolyn Mathers, girl detective, is doing a little crime-scene investigation. I talked to her not too long ago, and she’s on her way.” Her eyes darted to the clock then slid quickly away. It didn’t take a genius to catch the worry on her face.
Gray cursed himself for a fool. Why had he thought Carolyn would stay out of trouble while he slept? Surely he should know better by now. “Turn your back or close your eyes or something.” He grabbed the edge of the covers and threw them back without waiting to see if Hannah obeyed. His clothes lay neatly folded on a chair. He snatched his briefs from the top of the pile and pulled them on.
“Nice ass,” Hannah commented as he grabbed his jeans.
He glanced over his shoulder to see her watching him. Once upon a time, this would have embarrassed him. Now he was just annoyed. “Weren’t you the one who wanted me to stay under the covers so you wouldn’t be traumatized for life by seeing me naked?” He stepped into his jeans.
“You moved so fast I didn’t have time to look away. Besides, you should know better than to expect me to follow any orders you bark my way.”
He shook his head in exasperation, but arguing with Hannah was a losing battle. He stuck his arms into his shirt.
“Uh, don’t you want to shower before you go out in public?” Hannah asked. Her nose wrinkled, though he wasn’t sure she knew she was doing it.
He supposed he smelled like sex, but right now he didn’t care in the least. “I’ll shower when I know Carolyn’s all right. Your face is an open book, Hannah, and I know you’re worried about her. So tell me where she was when she called and we’ll go meet her.” He started to button his shirt.