Memory of an Immortal Heart (Immortal Hearts) (50 page)

Joshua
debated it before returning his gaze to the pretty little waitress whisking
around the floor, smiling at her the customers. She moved gracefully –
more gracefully than most humans ever would – and there was that telltale
flicker of almost-red in the back of her whiskey-colored eyes that, combined
with the slight sharpness to her smile, whispered,
Yes, I am Kaspian
.

If her
apple-and-whiskey scent hadn’t already tipped him off.

Joshua
looked down, rubbing at the seam in the glove on his left hand, worrying at
where the worn leather joined across the knuckle on his index finger. Then he
ran the ridge of it over the label on his beer, watching the cheap printed
paper crumble beneath the condensation.
Baines Pizza,
the label read
cheerfully, depicting the head of a grinning orange tiger on a dark green
background.

He had
no idea what the tiger was so damn cheerful about. The beer was warm and Joshua
had been watching the waitress all night, trying to figure out how she fit into
the disappearance of an entire fucking Gens.

Well,
now he knew. She was Kaspian. Kaspian like him, Kaspian like the missing Boston
Gens. Kaspian like the tiger on the fucking bottle label.

Mystery
solved.

Joshua
grunted
. Just the tip of the iceberg, baby
.

“…and
our special tonight is a three-meat combo with a pitcher of the house beer…”
she was saying in that sweet, rich contralto of hers; she was pouring water at
a table where the couple sat and stared at each other like idiots in love.
Joshua spared the two a moment of pity, then returned his gaze to her.

Whiskey
eyes, whiskey scent, whiskey voice.

She was
a damned whiskey woman.

And
hell if whiskey wasn’t his drink of choice.

Her
long, sleek black hair was all done up in a ponytail that, when it was unbound,
he
knew
would reach her curvy little ass. Better yet, he sensed that
wavy mane would feel like rich heavy silk spread across his chest. He could
bury his hands in it, drag those ripe lips to his own, and give them both the
ride of their lives. He could forget his past and she could…hell, maybe she
could take some new memories away with her.

She was
walking back to the kitchen, ponytail swinging. He watched her ass.

Joshua’s
lips twitched for a second time that night.
Hell. She hums when she walks.
Wonder if she knows she does that?

It was
almost…adorable.

Joshua
pondered that as he sipped his warm beer.

The
tension in his stomach relaxed when she tripped back out of the kitchen, those
strappy little heels of hers too tall, that sweet smile of hers too wide as she
juggled a far-too-large platter of pizza and leaned to say something
affectionate to an old human couple. Joshua let his eyes fix solidly on the
rounded curves of her breasts as she set the pizza down. Garlic and cheese
sizzled and his stomach growled like the hungry beast he was.

He
could order a pizza. Yeah. Except he wanted to order from the little
whiskey-eyed enchantress, not the hulking sour-faced Kaspian male who had set
up shop across the bar from him;
that
bastard was polishing empty
glasses like someone had told him that – if he polished hard enough
– he just might manage to fashion a weapon that he could kill Joshua
with.

Joshua
frowned. The man’s eyes were the same whiskey shade as the waitress’s, and it
was pretty much a foregone conclusion that the two were related. Joshua
resisted the urge to flash his teeth and forced a much more human smile.

So what
if it came out vaguely threatening? The other bastard flashed his teeth in
return.

He
knows what I am. Big surprise. It means he’s one of the few around here who
actually has the gods-given sense to use his nose.

Though
Joshua doubted the male knew
why
he was here. Or that the Boston Gens
had gone missing, which – given the events in Vermont a year ago –
had set all of the Kades on edge. Which is why Joshua was freezing his ass off
in Boston rather than freezing his ass off at Stronghold.

He and
the Kades had their suspicions. But it was Joshua’s job to check them out.

Joshua
finished the beer, set it on the table, and grimaced at the warm sour taste of
hops. Not dropping his gaze from the challenge in the bartender’s eyes, Joshua
clenched his left hand, flexed the cramped muscles and
heard
the faint
grind in his wrist where the cartilage hadn’t healed properly.
Hell.

Now if
that
just wasn’t fucking unsettling.

Even
more unsettling was what his hand looked like beneath the glove. Though the
healer had focused on saving his arm at the time. No point in having a hand if
you lost the arm connecting it to your body.

Joshua
wasn’t complaining. If he had to live forever, he wanted to do it with
all
his limbs attached.

He
relaxed his hand and tapped the bottle on the table surface. It made an empty
cheap-glass sound, drawing the sour-faced Kaspian’s focus. “It’s empty,” Joshua
said, and gave his best smirk. “Think you could fix that?” The male glowered,
wiped the bar with a towel so clean it had to have been starched, then stalked
in Joshua’s direction.

“Only
next time, get me something else,” Joshua told the male. “Who the hell put this
tiger on the label? I’m used to seeing a tiger on my frosted flakes. But when
you put it on the beer, that’s taking it too far. Especially this
beer.”

No
response from the oncoming male.

Joshua
flexed his left hand so the tendons cracked.
Get ready, fist. Trouble’s
coming
.

He
could hardly wait.

The
male stopped at the low corner table and glowered. “Something wrong with the
beer?”

“Yes.
It sucks,” Joshua lied pleasantly. “Tastes like you bottled piss from the
harbor and fed it to the customers. If you’re going to put a tiger on it, you
should at least take the time to put something decent in the mash. You know.
Quality.
”

“Be
glad it’s not Jeremiah you’re telling that to.” A narrowing of the eyes. “And
don’t think I haven’t noticed you watching Kenzie.”

“Is
that the little kitten’s name?” Joshua glanced at the waitress and grinned.
“Cute.”

His
gaze dipped to her ass again.

Thwack.
A hard palm slammed down against the table, setting his empty beer
bottle to tottering. “Come near her and I’ll break both your kneecaps open and
use them for hockey pucks. I’ve told you kind before, and I better not have to
tell you again. You’re done here. Time to leave. Don’t come back.”

“Not
yet. I have some questions,” Joshua said, amusement dissipating. He leaned back
in his chair, speaking bluntly. “If your family has any sense of
self-preservation, they’ll answer them for me.”

“News
flash, asshole,” the male scowled. “My family doesn’t
need
to do
anything for you, much less answer your stupid questions. We aren’t part of
your Gens. Now if you get the hell out of that door in the next five seconds, I
might just let you keep your elbows sockets.”

“Yeah,
someone already beat you to that,” Joshua muttered, but shook his head,
determinedly pursuing business. “The fact your family didn’t join the Boston
Gens is probably why the lot of you are still here for me to find. Or not.
That’s what I’m trying to figure out. The Boston Gens disappeared a week ago. I
need to know everything you know. Their names, their phone numbers, their safe
houses. Hell, their human girlfriends and their favorite bars. I’ll take those
too. The sooner you tell me, the sooner I’ll leave.”

The
bartender growled deep in his throat, eyes flickering gold. “Whatever trouble
your Boston boys got themselves into, we had nothing to do with it. Told you.
Our family keeps to ourselves. So can you.”

Like
hell he would.

But
there it was: the accent was faint, old, but twisting just enough to take
Joshua into the past, to a place he
hadn’t
expected. Goddamn it. He
shook his head. Tonight was just a regular trip down memory lane. “Far too many
shadows for any man’s good,” he muttered, meeting the male’s irritated gaze.
“Cajun Louisiana. You must have been born there to sound like that.”

“How
the
fuck…
” The bartender scowled at Joshua in abrupt realization. “
You
.
You’re one of
them.
Those bloody old Europeans.
Fuck.
I had you
pegged as one of the Boston Gens’ hangers-on. What the hell do you want here?
This isn’t Stronghold territory. What, are the Kades planning a takeover now or
something?”

“The
Kades aren’t planning anything,” Joshua growled, tired to death of explaining
that to people. “And sooner or later, we’re all bloody old.” Across the restaurant,
the waitress’s gaze came up and locked on him. It sliced through Joshua like a
blade. Hell, he knew what blades felt like. “Your sister. Is the waitress your
sister? She’s fucking gorgeous.”

“
Get
out
.” The bartender stepped across Joshua’s line of vision as Little
Whiskey-Eyes began walking straight for them. “Get out before I throw you out.”

“Told
you. I need answers first.”

“Get
out, before I kill you.”

“You
could try,” Joshua muttered, then shook his head. “I told you, man. You want to
get rid of me? Tell me what I want to know.”

“Fuck
off.”

And
then she was there.

Joshua
inhaled, searching out the little waitress’s tantalizing scent as she peeked
over her brother’s shoulder. All he got was a waft of beer and garlic
breadsticks.

Joshua
met those large brown eyes, and felt something unaccountably serious touch at
his own heart. “Kitten, I need to know the last time you contacted someone from
the Boston Gens.”

Her
expression froze, so he explained, “Someone recognized you. Your description
brought me here.”

Her
body went rigid. But he knew he was right. Still, his chest hurt because she
looked unhappy.

The
little waitress down from Baines’ Pizza”
the human at the club
had said,
“The one that sings. She used to come down here all the time, sit
with those wild boys in the back. I remember her, ‘cause she never fit. Stopped
coming for a year, then showed up again two weeks ago. She looked real upset.”

Joshua
thought he saw a shadow of that upset on her face, now, and despite himself,
felt a flicker of concern.

Then
she lied.

“It’s
been a year,” she said in a voice like honey, one that automatically had him
wondering what she sounded like when she purred. He inhaled again, trying to
get a fix on her scent. Hell, he could swear he’d scented apple and whiskey
when he first came in. “That’s a long time ago. I wouldn't know what…what those
boys have been up.”

“You
wouldn’t?” Her bartending brother turned to scowl at her, hands on his hips.
“Because that wouldn’t be
a year.
That would be a year
and a half
,
Kenzie.”

She
looked guilty, then smiled too brightly. “Yes. It was. A year and a half. I
guess I just lost track of time.” She glanced hastily at Joshua. “Did you want
me to take your order now? We have a really nice special tonight. It’s a
three-meat combo with a pitcher of the house beer… “

As she
rattled on, Joshua thought pityingly,
Darling, you aren’t fooling anyone
.

“Stop.
Just stop.” He shook his head in resignation. “I know you met up with a male
from the Boston Gens at The Lot two weeks ago. I need to know which male.”

The
waitress wheezed to a halt, her face going tight. Joshua watched as her brother
turned to snarl at her. “Kenzie, you
told
us…no. You
promised
us
that you were well and truly done with the bastard! You told Dad and Jeremiah.
Hell, you even promised – “

“
I
know
what I promised everybody, Indy!” she cried, arms her crossing over
her chest, temper rising. “Well it changed.” Her breasts plumped and Joshua
didn’t bother to hide his fascination. “But we
are
done, so you can just
get out the snit you’re in—”

“Right.
Like I’ll believe that. Two weeks?!” Indy roared, waving his arms in the air.
“You hate him, remember? You swore you’d stay away. You know what Jeremiah will
do when he finds out…”

Who the
fuck is this “him” they keep talking about? And who the fuck is Jeremiah?
Joshua
didn’t like the implications.

“We’ll
talk about this later,” Kenzie hissed, her eyes darting to Joshua. When her
brother didn’t seem to agree, she set her teeth and smiled at Joshua –
too brightly. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, mister,” she told him
sweetly, “since I’ve never been to The Lot. And stop staring at my breasts.
Fifty-percent of the population have breasts, so mine are no novelty.”

Joshua
just shook his head. “Darling, trust me. Yours are a novelty. And I maybe I was
staring, but I’m not deaf. You’re the worse liar I’ve ever heard.”