Confessions of a Werewolf Supermodel (27 page)

CONFESSION NO. 23

I like making new friends as much as the next person … but girls with broad shoulders and boys with fangs are not my preferred choice for breakfast companions.

The smell of bacon wakes me. For a moment, I'm back in Haven, waking for school to the smell of Norma cooking breakfast for me and Clive. I savor that memory. Life in a simpler time. A time of innocence. Then I realize the smell is so strong it can only be coming from my kitchen. I shoot out of bed and plow through the apartment, skidding to a halt in the kitchen. Natasha stands at the stove. Rick sits on Terry's bar stool.

“What the hell is going on?”

“Wake up, sleepyhead,” Natasha croons. “I found your friend outside loitering around on my way back from the market. I asked if he'd like to join us for breakfast.”

My head snaps toward Rick. “I thought you weren't a morning person.”

“I wanted to show you something. Ask your opinion.”

Immediately I know what he wants an opinion on. He's wearing makeup to give himself color and he's done something to his teeth.

“Not bad,” I say. “What'd you do?”

“Filed them,” he answers.

I slide onto the stool next to him. “Won't that affect your ability to…” I glance toward Natasha. She has her back to us, scrambling eggs. “Feed?”

He shrugs. “I didn't care. All night, I kept thinking about you, living a normal life, and it made me hunger for more than blood. It made me think maybe I could be normal, too.”

“Toast?”

We glance across the kitchen toward Natasha. She has no clue she's serving a werewolf and a vampire. “Sure,” I call back. “Hey, how did you get in here?”

Natasha walks over and shoves a plate of bacon and scrambled eggs in front of each of us. “Cindy called me. She was worried because she couldn't get a hold of you last night. She told me where she keeps a spare key and told me to check on you. I stayed awake until I heard you come home last night, then I thought you might like breakfast this morning.”

If Natasha thinks she can worm her way into my heart through my stomach, she's absolutely right. It's why she would want to I can't figure out. What difference does it make if I like her or I don't? Oh, God, maybe she has a crush on me.

Rick takes a bite of scrambled eggs. He winces.

“That bad?” I whisper.

“I don't usually eat food. It's not that I can't, it's just that it no longer tastes good to me.”

Maybe goulash is the only thing Natasha knows how to cook. I take a bite of my eggs. They're delicious. “Scrape yours onto my plate and I'll eat them, too. I'm starving.”

While Natasha makes toast with her back to us, Rick scrapes his food onto my plate. “Can I stay here today?”

I nearly drop my fork. “Why?”

“Didn't get any sleep. Just thought you wouldn't mind since I helped you out last night.”

He's saying I owe him, which I guess is true. What happened to my sanctuary? At least Rick already knows what I am. I don't have to hide anything from him. The flip side is, I know what he is, too. “Okay, but you sleep on the couch and no biting anyone around here, understand?”

“Got it,” he says. “Are you going to the hospital to check on your friend this morning??”

“What friend?” Natasha slides in next to us.

“Terry. He's a detective with the city. He had a mishap last night and is in the hospital. He was completely out of it last night. The doctor on duty told me to come back this morning.”

“Is he hurt bad?” Natasha asks, chomping on a piece of bacon.

“Just a concussion. I'd better get ready and get down there.”

“I'll clean up the mess,” Natasha offers. “I have a shoot later today.”

“I'm going to crash. Thanks for breakfast, Natasha.”

She nods and Rick goes to the other room to sleep on my couch. “I want to thank you for breakfast, too,” I say. “It was really good.”

“I like to cook,” she says with a shrug. “Makes me feel like I have family again.”

Now she's pushing her luck. “I have to clean up. Show yourself out when you're done, okay? Don't disturb Rick. We were out … partying late last night.”

“Okay,” Natasha chirps. She slides off her stool and starts cleaning up the breakfast mess.

An hour later, I'm showered, changed, and ready to visit Terry at the hospital. I wear a turtleneck. I still have bite marks on my neck from that creep who wanted to kill me last night. They should heal quickly and I hope Rick was right when he said a bite can't turn an unnatural into a vampire. That's all I need. Natasha has gone and Rick is asleep on the couch. I let myself out.

*   *   *

Terry in a hospital gown is not anything that will give me horny dreams. He looks a little pale, has a bandage on his head, but seems okay all things considered. When I walked in, nurses were buzzing around him checking vitals. I can tell he can't wait for them to leave to start asking questions.

I tried to think of a plausible explanation as to why I just happened to be in a neighborhood he warned me away from. There isn't one. I must fall back on my nonexistent psychic abilities.

“Dr. Anderson said you could be released today,” one of the nurses says to Terry. “You should have someone drive you home. Maybe this nice young woman.” She nods toward me. “You'll get a list of instructions upon release. Any questions will be answered at that time.”

The nurses file out and I'm left alone with Terry. I start the conversation. “How are you feeling?”

“Okay, but confused,” he answers. “I can't really remember what happened last night. I heard a noise and went to investigate. Everything beyond that is blank.”

“I found you unconscious,” I provide. “Someone had obviously clubbed you over the head.”

Terry sits up and stares at me. “How did you find me, Lou? And why were you there when I told you that neighborhood is dangerous?”

Acting and lying aren't the same thing, right? “I had one of my visions,” I tell him. “I saw you lying unconscious. You told me what area you would be in. I found your car parked and went looking for you.”

He shakes his head, then winces as if the motion hurts. “I'm surprised you didn't get attacked or worse. And how did you manage to get me in the car? I outweigh you by at least a hundred and fifty pounds.”

I shrug. “That freakish upper-body strength I have, I guess. That and the adrenaline rush of knowing I needed to get you to a hospital. Instead of riding my ass about it, maybe you should just thank me for saving yours.”

He glances away. This is a hard pill for him to swallow. Being rescued by a woman. A model who only worries about shoes and clothes and makeup. I enjoy watching him squirm.

“You probably saved my life,” he admits. “That doesn't mean I'm happy you risked yours to do it. I can't figure out what whoever bashed me over the head wanted. They didn't take my wallet or anything.”

“Did you have your badge?” I ask.

“I always carry my badge.”

“Maybe they saw it and thought better of robbing a cop.”

“Maybe,” he agrees.

“Do you want me to drive you home? I can call a cab from your place.”

Terry reaches for a cup of ice water and flashes me with a glimpse of bare ass. I reconsider that a hospital gown can't be sexy on a man. “Some of the guys came by this morning before shifts started. A couple offered to give me a ride if I got released today. But, sure, if you don't mind.”

A nurse comes back in. “I have your release forms ready,” she says to Terry. “And your instructions. Your doctor was on the ball this morning. Looks like you can go as soon as we're finished.”

She hands him his personal items, all sealed up neatly in an envelope. Terry takes out his keys and tosses them to me. “Good thing you know where I'm parked.”

“He'll have to be taken down in a wheelchair,” the nurse tells me. “If you'll pull up at the hospital entrance he can just get in the vehicle.”

I rise from the only chair in the room. “Okay, I'll go down and get the car.”

*   *   *

Nothing is fast moving at a hospital. Two hours later I settle Terry back into his apartment. He's hungry and we order Chinese to be delivered. I wait on the delivery person while Terry showers. While I wait I check my messages.

The first message is from Stefan. He wants to know if I want to ride to Vermont with him for the shoot. The second call is from Karen. She wants to know if I want to ride with her. The third message is from Cindy. She's glad I'm all right since she couldn't get a hold of me last night, but wants to know what's going on with me.

She has a meeting with her dad today and she's nervous. The fourth message is from Morgan Kane. He has information and needs to talk to me in person. He says he'll be in the office all day. Morgan's call gets top priority.

As soon as the food arrives and I scarf mine down, I plan to call a cab and make a beeline for Morgan's run-down building. I wonder if Rick is still napping on my couch. I wonder if he can still be a bloodsucker with ground-down fangs. I wonder if I'll go home to find everyone in my building drained.

“No food yet I take it from the lack of smell.” Terry walks through the apartment in a towel and nothing else. He goes into the kitchen, opens the fridge, and takes out a soda. He lifts it up. “You want one?”

“No, no food yet and yes, I want one.” I want more than a soda. Terry is built. I forgot how good he's built. I also know what's beneath the towel.

Terry pauses in all his glory to hand me a soda. He's got great legs. Long and muscular. He's got great abs, too. A nice little eight-pack. He also has a tent thing going on in the front of his towel.

I glance up and lift a brow. “Is that a gun under your towel or are you just happy to see me?”

He grins at me. “Happy to see you.”

I'd be flattered but I'm fairly certain Terry should not be considering having rough sex on his first hour home from the hospital. Maybe I can concentrate on not being rough. What am I doing? This is the same man who thinks I spend all my paychecks on shoes.

Reaching out, I take the soda. “Thanks. And you can tell Mr. Happy, or whatever his name is, it's not happening.”

He shrugs. “You can't blame a guy for trying.” Terry leaves the room.

I assume he went to get dressed. Or at least I hope so. My willpower is very weak. It's the beast in me, I guess. Horny bitch. She may be horny, but at least now I know she isn't a murderer for the sake of being a murderer. I killed last night, but it was in self-defense and my mind was my own, although my body did a complete transformation. I haven't had much time to dwell on last night and what it means for me.

It means I don't have to be afraid of myself. I still must be afraid for myself, but not of what I might do. I am not a beast without human thought to guide me—to tell me wrong from right. I don't like killing. I'm not an animal except in appearance. I allow myself a moment of joy. A moment of relief. A moment to let it all sink in.

After seven years of being afraid, no, terrified, over making another transformation and killing again, I now have at least that answer.

So my life isn't so good … it isn't so bad, either.

The speaker buzzer sounds. “I'll get it,” Terry says, moving through the living area in baggy jeans and a T-shirt. He talks to the delivery person then buzzes them in.

He fishes money from his wallet and a few minutes later a knock sounds on the door. I rise and take the food while he pays. It smells delicious and I'm hungry even though I pigged out at breakfast. I take our food boxes to his small two-top table and set them down, then retrieve my soda from the coaster on the sofa table in the living room.

Terry comes into the kitchen, digs out silverware and napkins, and we sit down to eat. I learn Terry isn't much for conversation while he eats, but that's okay, my mind has already galloped ahead to my meeting with Morgan Kane, and what information he has for me.

CONFESSION NO. 24

There's one consolation for girls who beat up men in bed. Some like it rough.

Kane has failed to make any improvements to his building. I'm guessing the rock-star business doesn't pay that well for him, or I was misinformed and he's not that good at private investigating. Which makes me a little nervous about forking over the other fifteen grand I drew out of the bank on the way over.

The money is his first concern. “You bring the other half?”

I dig in my beauty bag and stack the cash on his desk. A certified check would have been better, but I don't want anyone tracing my activities. “What information do you have?”

He reaches out and scoops the money into his top drawer. I guess he doesn't want me taking it back if I fail to be impressed with whatever he's turned up for me.

“That information you gave me on your adoptive mother's maiden name paid off.” Kane leans forward in his chair. “Just so happens a Norma Ford was once employed at Hawkins Research Facility in Grandbury, Nevada. She worked there as a secretary from 1977 through 1980. In 1979 she married Clive Billington. You were born in 1980.”

I'm shocked by Kane's discovery. This is too much of a coincidence.

“I did some research on Hawkins Research Facility. What they basically do is test experimental drugs for pharmaceutical companies. Here's what I'm thinking might be going on. A lot of drugs need testing to see if there are any harmful side effects to a fetus. Wendy Underwood works for them, she finds herself in a family way, the guy runs out on her, she wants to put the baby up for adoption. Instead, the laboratory talks her into taking money to test these drugs, probably assuring her they believe no harm will come to the fetus. Turns out they were wrong and there is some type of abnormality that shows up when the mother and fetus are tested. You have any odd medical conditions?”