Lover's Bite (8 page)

And then she leaned over the sink, hands braced, and stared into the mirror, wishing she could search her own eyes in its reflection. But she couldn't. “What's the matter with me? Why am I still so drawn to him, when I know he's the worst possible choice for me? Why, when he's the biggest mistake I ever made? Am I stupid?”

The answer to that, she decided, was a resounding no. She wasn't stupid. She was broken. She'd never known any kind of love in her life, except the false, using kind. And so, naturally, that was what she attracted and was attracted to. The same kind of bullshit she'd always known. Even as a vampire, she was repeating the same cycles that had been ingrained in her since childhood.

She needed to break those cycles.

And she'd better hurry the hell up, she thought.

 

When she returned downstairs, looking drop-dead gorgeous in her own not-so-humble opinion, Jack was waiting at the foot of the staircase, holding a handful of tiny electronic thingies in his palm.

Topaz blinked down at them. “Are they…?”

“Completely disabled. I decided we were better off just pulling them. Figured I can always tell our landlord to forget he ever planted them. I got them all, checked three times just to make sure. The only room left to go through is your bathroom. I thought I'd better wait until you came out to do that.”

“Being that the alternative would have been pretty painful for you, Jack, I think that was a wise decision.”

“Sure.” He took the first two steps up, then glanced over his shoulder at her. “You look incredible, by the way. Do we have plans that I don't know about?”

“No.”

“No? So that's all just for me, huh?”

“You wish.” She smoothed a hand over the skirt of her black halter dress and wished his compliment didn't make her feel warm all over.

He shrugged and continued up the stairs. He was back minutes later, declaring her bathroom “clean.”

Then they got into the car to head to the home of former State Senator Frederick Ramirez.

 

“I don't believe he's expecting you.” The man who answered the door was more bodyguard than butler, but Jack wasn't concerned.

“No, that's true, he's not,” Topaz said. “Would you please tell him that Mirabella's daughter is here and wants to speak to him?”

The man frowned, but gave a nod. “Wait here.” And he left them standing outside, on the wide concrete steps of the impressive home.

“Friendly fellow, isn't he?” Jack glanced down at Topaz, noting the tension in her jaw. And the way her hair was as smooth as mink, hanging loose and sexy around her shoulders. “Relax. It'll be fine.”

“Who said I wasn't relaxed?”

“I did.” Then he glanced at the closed door. “He's coming back. The senator will see us.”

“I just hope he's as easy to read as his man Friday.”

The door opened, and the butler/bodyguard stepped aside. “He'll see you. Follow me.”

The place was shamelessly opulent and colder than ice. They moved through a foyer, then turned to traverse a long hall, every footstep echoing. At the end, a pair of double doors stood open, leading into a book-lined office that smelled of leather and aging volumes. Their escort stopped outside the doors and waved them in.

Jack could feel Topaz's tension build as they walked through those doors. The senator stood near a large fireplace, his eyes on Topaz as she entered. Then he plastered a warm and mostly-sincere smile on his face, and came toward them, reaching out his hands.

He clasped hers in both of his. “Tanya. My God, I thought you were dead.”

“Everyone did.”

He held on to her hand as his eyes roamed her face. “You look so much like your mother.”

“Thank you.”

“It must be cold outside. Your hands are freezing.” He was still clinging to her hands, and Jack was getting a bit hot under the collar about it. Not that he had any reason to be. The guy could be her father, after all. But if he wasn't, then he'd damn well better let go, and soon.

As if on cue, Ramirez did, turning toward a sofa and several chairs that formed a half circle around the fireplace. “Sit, please. Be comfortable. Can I have Rodney get you anything? Wine, tea, coffee?”

“No, thank you,” Topaz said.

“We never drink…wine,” Jack quipped. Topaz elbowed him in the rib cage, but discreetly, as they both sat down on the brown leather sofa.

The senator glanced at the door. “That's all for now, Rodney.”

Nodding, the man-at-arms pulled the doors closed and left them alone. The senator glanced at Jack. “I'm sorry, I seem to have forgotten my manners. I'm Frederick Ramirez.”

“Jack Heart,” Jack said, extending a hand to shake his.

“Tell me, what brings you here?” the senator asked, turning his attention back to Topaz.

“Well, two things really. I'm curious as to who my birth father truly is. And I'm even more curious to learn who murdered my mother.”

Ramirez was silent for a moment, thoughtful. Then he said, “And I imagine you consider me a suspect on both counts.”

“I just wanted to talk to you about it,” Topaz said. “I'm not accusing you of anything.”

He sighed and nodded.

“You must have thought you could have fathered me. You tried to gain custody after my mother's death.”

“I did. Because I cared for her.” The older man drew a deep breath and met her eyes. “The truth is, Tanya, I knew I couldn't have been your birth father, because I was, am, sterile. I wanted to raise you anyway, out of love for your mother. And I hoped the courts would never know about my deception. But they found out.”

“Really?” Jack asked. “Because I didn't see any note of that in any of the court documents.”

“I'm a powerful man, Mr. Heart. With powerful connections.”

“That much is obvious,” Jack said, with a pointed glance around the room. “Clearly all this wasn't acquired on a state senator's salary.”

The senator chose to ignore that remark. “Suffice it to say I had enough influence to ensure that my sterility was never recorded in the public documents, but the judge was aware of it.” He returned his full attention to Topaz. “I wish you had been mine. I honestly do. And if it will put your mind at ease and help you in your quest for the truth, I'll gladly cooperate with DNA testing. Hell, I'll even pay for it.”

Jack knew it wasn't necessary. The man wasn't too tough to read, and he knew Topaz was picking up on the same things he was. Ramirez was telling the truth. Jack saw the disappointment in her eyes and felt a rush of emotion that was totally unlike him.

He cleared his throat, forced his gaze back to the senator. “What do you know about the murder, Mr. Ramirez?”

Ramirez dropped his gaze. “It's been a long time, but it's etched in my memory. I loved her, you know. I wanted to marry her, but she wouldn't be tied to any one man. She was such a free spirit. I always suspected that one of the men she was seeing killed her in a jealous rage. But the police investigated thoroughly and, while I hate to say it, Tanya, if they failed to find the guilty party, I don't hold out much hope that you'll be able to.”

“Maybe not,” she said. “But I have to try.”

He nodded. “I
will
tell you this. I had no reason to wish her harm. None. I wouldn't have hurt her for the world. I even put up a substantial reward for information at the time.”

Topaz glanced at Jack, met his eyes.
He's not lying.

I know.

“Do you have any theories about what might have happened to her body?”

“That was a desecration. I don't know. Some crazed fan. Some obsessed lover. I just don't know, Tanya.”

The telephone shrilled once, then stopped. A moment later, the butler was back, poking his head in. “It's the governor, sir.”

Ramirez nodded, held up a hand for patience and addressed Topaz. “Is there anything else you want to ask me?”

“I have something,” Jack said, when she shook her head. “Right after Tanya arrived here and the tabloids blasted their gossip about her mission, the house where she's staying was broken into. Possibly by someone very nervous about what we might have learned. Do you know anything about that?”

Ramirez's brows drew together. “I know it's not a good sign. Tanya, it could be that the killer is still nearby, living locally, close enough to be a threat to you.” Then he shot his attention Jack's way. “I can get you some Secret Service people. Talk to the police and see to it you have—”

“That won't be necessary,” Jack said. “Believe me, I can protect her.”

Topaz shot him a quick glare. Jack grinned. He really did know her well, he thought. “Let me amend that. She can protect herself. I'm just the backup.”

Topaz rose from the sofa, so Jack and the senator got up as well. “Go ahead and take your call, Senator. We have what we came for,” she said. “Thank you for taking the time.”

“If there's anything else you need, don't hesitate to call. I'll instruct my staff that any calls from you are to be put straight through to me.”

“That's kind of you.”

“It was wonderful meeting you, Tanya. I hope I'll see you again.” Then he glanced at the butler. “Rodney, show our guests out.”

 

“You're disappointed,” Jack said, as he drove them back toward the mansion.

“Yeah, kind of. He seemed like a decent person.”

“‘Seemed' being the operative word. There
is
that bit about him accepting contributions from mob bosses.”

She nodded. But her face was shaded with sadness, and he found he couldn't stand to see it there. Odd. Empathy had never been a strong point of his. Still, he was compelled to distract her from her sadness.

“You never told me your story, Topaz.”

“Which story would that be?”

“The story of your transformation. Who made you and when, and how it came about.”

She slanted him a sideways glance. “You really want to know?”

Oddly enough, he did, and he told her so.

She shrugged and shifted in her seat a little, leaning back as if getting comfortable. “There's not a lot to tell, but I suppose it's one of the more unusual makeovers you'll hear about.”

“Makeover, huh? That's a cute way of putting it.”

“Yeah, I'm a cute person.” She shrugged. “When I turned twenty-five, I got control of my own money for the first time. And there was a lot of it. By then I was well aware that my father—the man who'd raised me—was more interested in my fortune than in me. I'd been living with that knowledge for years. In fact, it seemed to me then that everyone in my life who was supposed to love me only cared about my money.”

Regret burned through his veins and straight into his heart. He'd been one more in a long line of those who had used her.

“I was sick by then. The belladonna antigen's effects were kicking my ass. I was depressed, tired all the time, lethargic, weak, dizzy. The doctors knew what caused it, said it was par for the course. But they said there was no known treatment, much less a cure. I was basically told I wouldn't live far past thirty.”

“And you knew nothing about what else that antigen meant—that you could live forever?”

“No, I didn't know there even
were
vampires, back then.”

“Well, few people do.” He was watching her face, glancing at it often while driving. He'd meant to distract her from her sadness, but it seemed to him that this conversation was only making her sadder than ever. Maybe he should change the subject, but she was into her story and he didn't know how.

“I decided to take off,” she said. “I decided to take every bit of money I had and just blow it all. I was going to party until I dropped.”

“I suppose you needed to rebel.”

“I hated that money. Because of it, I thought I would never find anyone who could love me for just me. I went to Mexico. A resort on the Gulf Coast. I spent six months there, most of them so drunk I could barely walk. And it took its toll on my body. I think I shortened my life expectancy to almost nothing—to absolutely nothing, in the end. I got weaker and weaker. I barely ate, I just drank and partied and had sex with anyone who wanted me.”

“That would have included anyone who saw you.”

She sent him a quick look, and he thought her lips tightened slightly at the corners, as if a smile were lurking just beneath the surface. A sad one. But it pleased him that he'd elicited it with his compliment. He had never given her enough of those, he realized.

“One night I staggered out of a
cantina
and into the street, and just collapsed there. I could feel myself dying, I think. I thought so at the time, anyway. I thought it was all over. And my only regret was that I hadn't managed to put much of a dent in my inheritance, so some undeserving asshole would probably end up with all of it.”