Blood Hunt (12 page)

“You don't get it. All these eons she's dodged Eros's arrows—”

“
Eros
,” I cut in. “You don't think…”

“What?”

“You don't think he's here, do you? That he's behind it? That would be just the thing, wouldn't it? The god of chaos and the god of…well, it's supposed to be love, isn't it, but he's gotten people in trouble more often than not.”

“Eros,” Apollo repeated. His voice had gone flat, unreadable, but that wasn't my only cue, and I could feel everything he wasn't saying through our bond. They had history. Eros had once turned Apollo's love against him, shooting the nymph Daphne with the lead arrow of revulsion so that she ran and even begged to be turned into a tree to escape him. “People have gotten into and out of plenty of trouble without his help throughout the ages.”

“Yeah, but—”

“Tori,” he said gently. “Nick's a big boy. He can take care of himself.”

“Yeah, but—”

“
Tori
.”

“Okay, okay, but how on earth am I supposed to teach the goddess of war how to flirt. I mean, if she hasn't learned it in all these years, I don't see what hope I have. I'm not exactly a prodigy.”

“You caught me, didn't you?” he asked, reaching to pull me toward him once again now that we were alone.

“You mean I let
you
catch
me
,” I said.

“Exactly.”

“Hmm.” And then the
hmmm
turned into more of a hum as he started to nibble on my neck and that warmth that had spread through me sparked into a raging fire. When my knees seemed about to give out, he picked me up and carried me to my room, kicking the door shut behind us.

After that, I sincerely hoped Jessica was out for the count, because quiet didn't seem remotely within the realm of possibility.

Chapter Twelve

The next morning, I stretched like a cat, only to find a gloriously naked god in my bed. For a moment, I forgot about chaos, death, murder and other madness. It was hard to focus on anything but the hot body molded to my back and the growing issue between us.

“Good morning,” he said, voice raspy from sleep. He managed to make even those two words sound suggestive.

I answered him by rocking back against him, very interested in dealing with that pressing issue. The arm draped over my waist tightened, and he sucked in a breath. I could feel his arousal through our link. It was fueling my own. That, and the fact that the hand that had been hanging casually as we slept was now stroking my stomach and up just under the curve of my breasts…enough to tease, but just that. I growled and moved my arms so that he'd have better access to anything interesting, but he seemed content for now. I could feel his wicked smile against my shoulder. He knew what he was doing to me. He knew what I wanted. He wasn't inclined to give it to me. At least, not when I wanted it right freakin' now.

I tried to turn toward him, to take what I wanted, and his arm tightened around me like a steel band. Holding me in place.

I was about to give him hell for it, when his thumb and forefinger suddenly found my nipple and squeezed. I let out a yelp, but it was more in surprise than pain. A delicious tingle—no, more than a tingle, a lightning bolt of desire—shot through me, all the way down to my hoo-ha, as Yiayia would have put it. I wasn't thinking of her in that moment
at all
, but I didn't have a word myself. Not one that I ever used.

My whole body tightened, every single muscle, including those cradling his more than obvious erection. It was his turn for that lightning strike of desire, and I felt him jump against me.

“Tori,” he said against my hair.

A series of rapid-fire knocks came at my door.

I tried to ignore them.

“Tori!” a voice came through the door. “Tori, are you up? I heard from my brothers. Richie wants to meet.”

Damn and double damn. I could feel the sizzling heat starting to cool, and I wanted it back.

“Now?” I asked, voice sounding a little strangled.

“Twenty minutes,” she said. “I just woke and saw the message.”

“Public place?” I asked, shooting Apollo an apologetic look over my shoulder, which he kissed.

“Mama's Dim Sum and Donuts,” she said back.

“Damn,” I said, this time out loud. I got up, and Apollo reluctantly let me go. I grabbed a robe from the back of my bedroom door, hastily put it on and tightened the belt as I opened the door just wide enough to see Jessica on the other side. I knew for a fact that Apollo wasn't decent, and I didn't look back to see if he'd thrown the covers over himself. “Show me,” I said.

She held out her phone, and I pressed the button to light up the screen, which had gone dark.

Richie here,
the text said
, don't know how long I have before… No time. Listen, meet me at the Mama's Dim Sum and Donuts on Freemont at 7 am. Come alone. But…if my eyes go dark or if you see Ian, run.

It was time-stamped 4:58 a.m.

“What do you think?” she asked, barely giving me time to read it once through.

I checked the clock on her phone. “I think we'd better get going. If we leave now, we can just make it.”

“Do you think it's a trap?”

“It could be. No matter what, you're not going in alone. You said Ian is the leader?”

“He always was when…when they were in their right minds.”

I chewed on that. The message sounded as though Richie—the real Richie—might have come through, but the message could have been framed to give that very impression, to draw Jessica out. And even if the real Richie had popped to the surface temporarily, there was no telling how long he'd remain in control. That much was clear from his warning, which was what led me to think there was a chance this was the real deal.

Gah, no time to analyze. Not if we wanted to get there in time. I had no idea if he'd wait.

“Get dressed,” I said. “Two minutes or I leave without you.”

It was an empty threat. If Richie didn't see his sister, there was a good chance he wouldn't show at all, but it would get her moving.

I shut the door practically in her face, ran to my bedside table, grabbed my cell off the charger and tossed it down next to Apollo. “Do me a favor while I dress?” I didn't wait for him to agree. “Call Neith and…Nick. Tell them about Mama's. Tell them twenty minutes and to hold back. You heard everything, right?” He nodded. “So you know why. If Richie shows, maybe we can get him to give up his brother…if we don't spook him. If we do spook him or something else goes wrong, maybe we can follow him back to Ian. But if it's a trap…”

“You'll need backup. Go.”

There was no time to be picky. I put on the first two things I got my hands on. Since all I owned for bottoms were black and about all I owned for tops were solid tees or tanks that could go under blazers or jogging suits, it wasn't a problem. I finished off with my solid black running shoes and turned for the door, only to find Apollo right behind me, dressed in the same clothes he'd been in yesterday, minus the suit jacket.

“I'm coming with you,” he said.

“But the calls—”

“I'll make them from the car.”

I had no idea why I hadn't thought of that, unless my blood still hadn't made it back to my brain from other parts of my body he'd been stimulating before Jessica crashed the party.

“Great, uh, thanks.”

“You're, uh, welcome.”

I stuck my tongue out at him—in the most mature way possible—and yanked the door open.

Jessica was waiting for us in the hallway, and together we all raced for the car.

“He said to come alone,” she protested on the way.

“You left your car near the police station yesterday. You need a ride. There's no time to hail a cab and go separately. Anyway, I wouldn't trust your brothers not to waylay a cab. I'll drop you off a block away, if you'd like, but we don't have time to argue about this.”

We hit my car, and Jessica grabbed the shotgun seat. Apollo didn't even protest, but got into the back. “I'll duck down as soon as we're anywhere close,” he said. “If he sees Tori, you can mention a friend gave you a ride.”

“But—”

“Take it,” I said, “it's the best you're going to get.”

I didn't exactly speed—not in the way that would get me pulled over—but I didn't exactly come to a full and complete stop at every sign. Apollo made the first call, and I heard him repeat the name of the place. “It's an L.A. thing,” he said, by which I knew he was talking to Neith. Nick would already have known about La La Land's strange tradition by which Chinese restaurants were able to catch the breakfast crowds as well as lunch and dinner.

“Tell her that unless there's clear and present danger, she's not to interfere. Just watch and follow. Richie's going to lead us to Ian one way or another.” He conveyed that and moved along.

Highland Avenue to Hollywood Boulevard was the quickest route, and this early in the morning the Walk of Fame wouldn't be plagued with tourists and street performers dressed up like Spider Man, Iron Man, the president, Marilyn Monroe, Johnny Depp and any performer with a style recognizable enough that random strangers would pay to have their pictures taken with them, every bit as excited as if they were seeing the real thing. I took the route, miraculously missing most of the lights.

Next up was Nick. From what I could hear from Apollo's side of things, it sounded like he'd had to leave a message.

“Damn,” I said. I really was going to have to expand my vocabulary.

Apollo ducked down as I turned onto Hollywood and I sketched out a rough plan as we took it several blocks and then turned onto Cahuenga.

“I'm going to pull into the plaza before the one with the dim sum place. Apollo and Jessica, you get out there. I'll drive on to Mama's and walk in as a customer. Let me get there first,” I said to Jessica. “Apollo, you're much too well-known. You'd kick up a fuss that might scare Richie away. Stay out of sight, but somewhere you can get a good view of the place.” Luckily, being the god of the sun and all, Apollo could easily blind opponents to the sight of himself and manipulate light and shade. I wasn't worried about him. Neith…she was the loose cannon, but being the goddess of strategy, I had to hope she'd understand the need for restraint.

“Got it,” they both said.

“And take this,” I added to Jessica, grabbing the spare pepper spray out of my glove compartment and handing it to her. She'd need it more than I would.

She looked nervous as all hells, but she took the spray and got out of the car. Apollo had to motion her to move on when she would have stood watching after me. I hoped she was up to this. I hoped we weren't sending her into a trap.

I pulled out onto the street and into the parking lot for the next plaza over. The dim sum and donuts place was the only shop open this early in the orange-pink, mission-style strip mall. It looked like any other Chinese take-out place, with pictures of food and lists of specials plastering five-eighths of the front window, making it difficult to see in. It probably made it equally difficult to see out unless you were sitting in just the right place, which, having chosen the time and location, Richie could arrange. I didn't like it. But then, no one had asked me.

Before I got out of the car, I reached into my glove compartment again, this time for the directional microphone I had there from my last job—trying to determine whether a businessman had been giving away company secrets. (As it turned out he and the rival company exec had been far more interested in hot monkey love.)

The door jangled as I walked in. The smell of soy sauce and powdered sugar was an odd combination. Not that the two things went together into one dish, but the very walls seemed permeated with the smell of each. Only one of the four plastic tables in the place was occupied—by a guy in shades, a baseball hat and a deep blue hoodie nursing a hot beverage. My precog sent a jolt through me as he looked up, and I let my gaze slide over him and to the menu above the counter. It was Richie Roland all right. No doubt about it.

The lady behind the counter smiled, pushed her glasses up her nose with the tip of one finger, and asked if she could help me. I ordered three of the plain cake donuts and their largest coffee, since I hadn't gotten the chance to down any caffeine this morning, and I couldn't say how long I had before withdrawal symptoms set in.

Jessica walked in before my order was up. I knew it from the jangle on the door, but I didn't turn, pretending absolute disinterest in my surroundings.

“Richie!” she said. In her hushed excitement, it could be heard throughout the small restaurant.

Richie shot a glance at the counter, but I was busy checking the texts on my phone while I waited for my order to come up.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him try to hush her with the universal hand sign for keep it quiet—palms down, fingers splayed.

The nice lady with the sliding glasses returned a second later with a steaming cup of coffee I could nearly bathe in and small paper bag full of donuts. I tried not to notice the grease already staining the bottom. It didn't matter. One of those donuts was definitely for me. Plain cake was the missionary position of donuts, the vanilla of ice cream cones. And yet my absolute favorite.

I moved off down the counter to doctor my coffee, which sadly took me farther away from Richie's table, where Jessica was now sitting. When I finished, I chose a table on the other side of the room, as a normal customer might do and put my back to the glass front wall so that I could keep an eye on them.

I used the donut bag and my coffee to cover the directional mic as I pulled it out of my pocket and hooked it into my phone. Then I pressed Record. I made a big show, though, of unwinding the cords to my earbuds and putting them into my ears.
See, I can't hear you.

Richie glanced over at me again nervously, before finally removing his sunglasses and setting them up on top of his baseball cap.

“Let's get out of here,” I heard him say.

“And go where, Richie?” she asked. “You're a wanted man. Did you…” She swallowed hard enough that the microphone picked it up before lowering her voice to a whisper. “Did you and Ian really kill Mom and Dad?”

Precog kicked in my gut like a bad bean burrito at the same time Jessica's chair made a horrible screech across the floor. My gaze jerked toward them, as would anyone's at such a sound. Jessica was turned away from me, but I saw what had set her back. Richie's hand clenched his cup so hard he'd popped the top off and splashed coffee over the rim. It was spreading across the table like blood. And his face, what was visible of it beneath the cap, was twisted.

“Richie?” Jessica asked tentatively, fear quivering her voice.

“I…” He breathed. Heavily. Like a pervert making a late night call. “Just…give me…second.”

“Richie, what's going on?” Jessica asked. “Is this what you warned me about? Should I run?”

She was half out of her seat already, and I itched to run over with napkins, pretending concern over the spill. My precog was kicking and screaming like a cornered alleycat, wanting me to DO SOMETHING, but I was afraid my sudden appearance would set him off.

More coffee spilled as Richie's hand spasmed. Jessica was fully standing now, ready to run. I was prepared to jump between them with the gorgon glare or a really powerful uppercut. But then he took one more breath, unclenching his hand slowly as he released the breath. Very slowly. As though it took a monumental effort.

“I don't have much time,” he said, eyes conveying a scary level of intensity. “He's fighting me, and he's…strong. I'm going to need to… Listen, Jessica, it's not us. I want you to know that. I mean it is, but it isn't, okay? Tell the police…tell them…tranquilizers, rubber bullets, something. I don't want to die. I don't want you to think Ian and I could…”