Lover's Bite. Maggie Shayne
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Whoever it was, they went through everything.”
“Was there anything for them to find?”
“The file you gave me. My own notes. The DVD.” As she spoke, she moved through the place, checking the drawer where those things had been stored. “Odd.”
“What?”
“They left the DVD.”
He shrugged. “If they have an interest in your mother—or you, for that matter—they probably already have a copy.”
“I’m going to check upstairs.”
“I’ll take a look around outside, though I don’t feel anyone close.”
She agreed, and headed up the stairs to the bedroom she’d been using. Her things had been tossed, every drawer opened, including the one in the bedside stand that had held the one thing she never wanted anyone else to see. Her journal and the little pen she kept with it were still there. That journal held her innermost thoughts. Her secrets. Her vulnerabilities. Every emotion she’d experienced about Jack. The intruder hadn’t taken it, but he might have looked at it. And she knew Jack hadn’t done it, because he’d been with her.
She felt violated. Red-hot fury came on the heels of that emotion, and she liked that a lot better.
“Topaz? Anything missing up here?”
She closed the drawer slowly and turned to face him. “I’ve changed my mind. Let’s pay this Les Marlboro a visit tonight.”
It wasn’t difficult to locate the man. He wasn’t listed in the phone book, but the paper’s offices were in L.A., which was only a half-hour drive away, and breaking and entering came easily to vampires. Especially, Topaz knew, to Jack. Within ten minutes of entering the building, they had located Les Marlboro’s cubicle and, after rifling the desk, his home address.
Which brought them to his door. He lived south of L.A., so it was on the way back to Santa Luna. His house was a pepperbox in the ’burbs, but the name on the mailbox was Adams, not Marlboro. She imagined writers with the scruples of this one probably had to use pseudonyms for their own protection. God, she thought, I hope he doesn’t have kids.
All the lights were off. Either everyone was asleep or no one was home. Jack reached for the doorknob.
Topaz put a hand on his arm. “Wait.”
He tensed. His bicep bulged underneath her palm, and she experienced a brief but powerful rush of desire. She’d always loved biceps. They were the sexiest part of a man, in her opinion. And his were sexier than most. Touching them had always turned her on.
She shook off the heat of wanting him and nodded at the little metallic tag affixed to the siding near the door: These Premises Protected by Sentinel Alarms.
“Yeah. Look how old that sign is,” he whispered. “When people first get these systems, they use them religiously. Then they get complacent and stop setting them. Even people who do use them tend to set them when they’re on vacation and leave them unarmed while they’re home. Trust me, no alarm is going to sound.”
“And what if you’re wrong?”
“I’m never wrong.” He said it with a look and a smile that did as much for her insides as his flexing bicep had. “But if I am, we can be out of here in short order. No harm done.”
She nodded, knowing he was right. With their preternatural speed, they could move so fast that they would appear only as a blur to mortal eyes. In the darkness of night, even that much might not be visible. “All right, go ahead.”
He put his hand on the doorknob, focused his attention on it. An instant later, she heard the lock free itself. Then he ran his palm up the surface of the door, past the dead bolt, and shook his head. “He didn’t even throw the bolt.”
Topaz made a “tsk tsk” sound, then stiffened in anticipation as Jack turned the knob and opened the door.
No alarm sounded. She glanced at the panel that was mounted to the wall just inside the door, and it read, The Adamses’ System Is Secure. A green light glowed from its face.
“Not as secure as if you’d armed the darn thing, but still, secure,” Jack whispered.
She frowned and studied him. “You’re enjoying this.”
“It’s what I do. I’m good at it.”
He sounded as if he were proud of the fact. Rolling her eyes, she continued through the house, which was small enough that it didn’t take long. Les Marlboro/Adams apparently lived alone, so that was a plus. No children to traumatize, no mate to contend with.
They stepped into the lone bedroom and stood there, looking at the sleeping man. He wasn’t badlooking, Topaz thought. Not attractive, but not repulsive, either. Must be his personality that kept him living alone.
Or maybe he’s just a confirmed bachelor. Jack spoke to her silently, as the man lay sleeping.
There’s no such thing.
Excuse me, but you’re looking at one.
She shook her head. When you fall in love, Jack, you’re not even going to know what hit you, much less be content with living alone any longer.
Ha!
She shrugged and gazed again at the man in the bed. Mid-thirties, brown hair, starting to show a little gray and some thinning in the center. He had a bit of a belly, too, expanding the blankets that covered him. Mortality sucked. She glanced at Jack. So what’s the plan?
He grinned at her, then walked over to the bed and crouched low. Bending close to the man’s ear, he said, “Wake up, pal. We’ve got some talking to do.”
The man’s eyes flew open wide, and he immediately sat up in the bed.
Jack slammed a palm into his chest, pushing him flat again. “You aren’t to speak until I ask you to. I could kill you very easily, and way faster than you could get to the telephone.”
“Wh-what do you want? You want money? Jesus, take it, just don’t—”
Jack gazed hard at the man, and Topaz knew he was exerting the power of his mind. The man’s jaw clamped shut and his eyes went wider. Jack was preventing him from speaking as effectively as if he’d clapped a hand over his mouth.
“I said not to speak until I ask you to.” Then Jack smiled. “Oh, yes. That’s right. We’re not your garden-variety burglars. We’re not even human. Now, there are two ways this can go. You can tell us what we want to know, and we’ll leave here and you’ll never see us again. Or you can be stubborn and make us torture it out of you. Either way, we’ll get what we came for. Is that understood?”
Les strained to move his mouth.
Jack smiled. “Oh. Sorry. Go ahead, you can answer now.”
Les opened his mouth experimentally, then rubbed his jaw with one hand.
“Do you understand your options?” Jack asked.
“Yeah. I got it.”
“Good. This lovely lady has a few questions for you. You will answer them. And you will tell no one of this visit. Unless you want it repeated in a far less pleasant manner.”
Frowning, Les looked at Topaz. Then he looked again, his eyes straining.
“Who was your source for the Tanya DuFrane story that ran today?”
His eyes widened. “Holy shit. You—you’re her, aren’t you?”
“That is not the answer to my question, Mr.…Adams, is it?”
“You haven’t aged,” he muttered. “That photo I ran of you was ten years old. I couldn’t find any more recent ones—”
“There