Under Wraps (12 page)

He zipped up his sweat jacket and crossed his legs. “Geez, Lawson, can you keep your mind off my shorts for five minutes and let me concentrate? Now tell me what happened tonight.”

I opened my mouth to say something haughty and disgruntled, but Parker clapped a hand over my lips, effectively silencing me. “Just tell me what happened tonight, Sophie.”

I told Parker again about finding the broken chain and then about the attack on the street. “It was horrible,” I said, feeling my body start to shake. “The parts I remember. And then I woke up in Chief Oliver’s office.” I hugged my arms across my chest, holding onto my elbows. “They said it was gangbangers, but it wasn’t.” I wagged my head.

“You’re sure?”

I raised an eyebrow at Hayes. “You know what we’re dealing with.”

“Actually,” Hayes said, rubbing his palms on his thighs, “I don’t. Gangbangers I’m fairly used to. This kind of thing”—he gently thumbed the cut over my eye—“I’m really not. Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m a little sticky from the blood and sore, but other than that, I’m pretty much fine.”

“You shouldn’t have been out alone in the middle of the night. It could have been much worse. I don’t know what I would have done if …”

I raised an eyebrow. “If what?”

Hayes shook his head. “Nothing. Was there anything else you remember? Anything else you can tell me about?”

I blew out a sigh and crossed the living room, digging my hand into my coat pocket. I sat down next to Hayes again. “When I went back I found this.” I held the little tuft of hair out to him.

“What is it?” he took it, examining it from every angle.

“Fur. It was stuck in one of the tears on my console.”

“Fur?” Hayes’s eyebrows shot up, and he sniffed at the tuft. “Dog fur?”

I looked down at my feet. “I’m thinking werewolf.”

“Sampson.” Hayes put the tuft of hair down on the coffee table and bounded to his feet, crossing the room in two long strides. He touched me gently, staring deeply into my eyes. “Did he bite you? Are you hurt badly?”

He gently rubbed his thumb over the cut on my forehead again, and I winced—although whether it was from the residual pain of the wound or the screaming desperation of my sex-starved body I wasn’t sure. Either way, it was uncomfortable and I stepped away.

“I can’t imagine Sampson would do something like this. And if he did, why now? Why not any other time, when we were alone together at the office? He wouldn’t attack. Not me, of all people.” I swallowed hard against the lump rising in my throat. “He likes me.”

The muscle in Hayes’s jaw twitched. “If he hurt you in any way …”

I pulled at the sleeve of my shirt, and Hayes’s eyes went wide at the yellowing bruise on my forearm. “He didn’t scratch me or bite me.”

“But your eye—”

“That was from the car. I hit my head. If it
was
Sampson”—I shook my head slowly, trying to avoid the newest flood of tears—“well, it doesn’t seem like the person I ran into was the same person who tore that guy limb from limb. I mean, look at me.”

Hayes swallowed hard. “I am.”

“What?”

“Look, Lawson, maybe the chief and Officer Franks just got to you before Sampson had a chance to really hurt you. You said you don’t remember much. And, how much do you really know about werewolves? What they’re capable of?”

I opened my mouth and then closed it again, frowning. “My boss is a werewolf.”

“Your boss is a man who becomes a werewolf when you leave at night. How much do you know about him when he’s dogged out?”

I felt my eyes narrow, and Hayes raised his shoulders as if to say “So?” I blew out a defeated sigh and flopped down onto the couch.

“Not too much, I guess.”

“How does he act when you chain him up?” Hayes’s cobalt eyes were on mine and they were smoldering. “Is he violent?”

“No,” I said, shrugging. “He never has been.”

“And his hair—fur, I guess—does it look like this?” Hayes held up the clump of hair again.

“I don’t know. He’s fine when I lock him up and I—I leave before he changes.”

“So you’ve never actually seen him as a wolf?” Hayes sat down close to me on the couch, his thigh brushing mine.

I clamped my hands together in my lap. “Well, no, not exactly.”

“Not exactly?”

“I’ve seen a little of the change.” I stood up, started pacing. “Once, after I chained him up I stood outside of his door. Just to see, you know, I was curious. I heard it happen.” My stomach folded as I began to remember the horrible grunts and shrieks that came from Mr. Sampson’s office as his body underwent the transformation from man to wolf. “It sounded so awful, so painful. But I forced myself to peek, just for a second.”

Hayes was sitting erect now, his jaw tight, his lips pressed into a stern line. “And?”

“And it was dark, but I could see his eyes. They almost glowed. Not horror-movie red glow, but eerie, yellow.” I shuddered, remembering. “And his mouth. His teeth …” I looked outside, watching the sliver of moon beckoning in the darkness.

I could hear Hayes swallow behind me, his voice going soft. “And how much do you know about Sampson, the man?”

I shook my head slowly. “Hardly anything, really. He’s generally very private.”

Hayes stood close to me without touching me. Part of me wanted to turn around, throw my arms around him, and crumple into him, all horror-movie-esque. But he was playing the cop and I conceded, following him, going to sit down next to him on the couch as he flipped open his notebook, scribbled a few notes, and looked at me intently.

“You need some better protection,” he said finally.

I looked around my apartment, considering the pineapple on the kitchen counter as a weapon in a pinch, perhaps using my Le Creuset grill pan to inflict “blunt head trauma.”

“What kind of protection?” I asked.

“Well, let’s start with your car. Did you have a security system?”

“Does three inches of dirt, bug guts, and bird shit count?” I tried to grin.

Hayes raised one annoyed eyebrow, and I blew out a sigh. “Does it really matter?” I said. “My car doesn’t even have a driver’s side door that closes. So no, no security whatsoever.”

Hayes looked genuinely pained. “Sorry,” he said. “How about this place?” His eyes traveled to my front door, to the ancient brass dead bolt and the chain lock that hung, unfastened. “Do you have an alarm or anything in here?”

“I had a goldfish.”

“Ah yes, the attack animal of the toilet. Very dangerous.”

I put my fists on my hips. “Well, I’m not exactly a meek and meager girl. I’ve got two vampires living here—”

Hayes looked around him. “Who are where?”

I glanced at the table, spied Vlad’s empty laptop bag. “I have no idea. Anyway, I can fight”—I mean, theoretically—“and this neighborhood is really safe.”

“It is unless someone is looking for you.”

I gulped. “You think someone is looking for me?”

Hayes put down his notebook and ran a hand through his disheveled, dark curls. “I think it’s a distinct possibility.”

I slumped down on the couch, dropping my head back and staring at the ceiling. “So what am I supposed to do? Hire an armed guard?” I did a quick mental calculation. If I dipped into my savings, I could pay approximately … nothing … for round-the-clock protection. “I’m going to be dead before the sun comes up,” I groaned.

“How do you feel about guns?”

My eyes went wide, and my shoulders stiffened. “I hate them.”

“Have you ever shot one?”

My mind raced to an image of me with amazing Angelina Jolie thighs circled with gun-stuffed holsters, a la
Tomb Raider.
“I guess I could learn to be okay with them.” I saw myself doing one of those killer barrel roll things … and then shooting myself in the foot. “Or I could cause wanton destruction to my own limbs with one.”

Hayes stifled a chuckle and then looked at me seriously. “Well, for all intents and purposes you’re on the police force now—at least as far as this case is concerned. And I’d feel much more comfortable if you had a gun, just like any other officer.”

I chewed my lower lip, considering. “Would I have to shoot it?”

“Hopefully not, but that is the idea with guns. Generally, they’re most effective when used to shoot at someone.”

I was horrified. “You want me to shoot
at
someone?” Shooting people was a far cry from just looking kick-ass hot in leather pants and a thigh holster. “Is there an alternative?”
Like a lethal baguette?

Hayes’s hand twitched; he looked like he wanted to grab my hand but didn’t. “I want to know you’re protected,” he said, “even when I’m not here.”

His eyes were so soft and comforting that I wanted to do what he said. “Okay,” I heard myself say. “I’ll at least consider it.”

That cocky half grin cut across his face, and when I stood up he gave me the once-over and muttered, “Besides, there’s nothing hotter than a chick with a gun.”

I crossed my arms and narrowed my eyes. “And just when I was beginning to like you, too.”

“Do me a favor,” Hayes said when I walked him to the door. “No more late-night trips to UDA—or anywhere for that matter—without me.”

I raised an annoyed eyebrow. “I don’t need a babysitter.”

Hayes’s lips were set in a hard, thin line.

“Okay,” I sighed. “Fine. No late-night trips to UDA.”

Chapter Nine

The sunlight that streamed through my curtains was warm on my back and I felt myself smile in my half sleep. I rolled over, and the events of the night—as well as the needling, searing points of pain—came flooding back. I kicked back the covers, popped a few Advil, and whipped off my shirt, checking out the waxy yellow and purple bruises on my arm, shoulder, and ribs. I poked at them, winced, and changed into a new tee.

When I padded into the living room, Nina was sitting cross-legged on the dining room table folding laundry, and Vlad—clad in a brand-new three-piece suit and another printed ascot—was sitting behind his laptop.

“Wow,” Nina said when she saw me, “someone looks like the dead.” She grinned. “Huh. I made a funny.”

“You’re brilliant. Morning, Vlad.”

Vlad gave me a half nod, his eyes not leaving his laptop screen.

“Good game of Bloodlust?” I asked his bent head. Vlad didn’t answer, so I ignored him, helping myself to a cup of coffee.

“I’m going to assume you had a wild late night with Mr. Sampson.” Nina spun around on the table to face me, raised her dark eyebrows, and grinned salaciously. “And from the looks of it, he likes it rough. Me-ow!”

Vlad looked up, his lips set hard. “Is sex all you two ever talk about?” he asked.

“If we’re lucky,” Nina said. “You should be getting ready for work, Louis.”

“Vlad!” he moaned.

“Whatever.”

I pulled my bangs over the cut on my forehead and caught the sage-green cashmere sweater Nina tossed at me.

“This will be bril with your eyes. You can tell me all about the intricacies of crossbreed love on our way in. Can werewolves even
do it
missionary style?”

“Ugh!” Vlad moaned, shuddering. “I don’t know what’s worse—my aunt talking about sex or crossbreed love.”

Nina pointed to the open door of her room. “Vlad, go change your clothes and get over yourself. We’re going to be leaving in a few minutes. It will reflect poorly on me if you’re late. And if you’re dressed like Thurston Howell.”

Vlad stomped out of the room, muttering, “I hate living here,” under his breath.

Nina crossed her arms in front of her chest and smiled at me. “We’re good parents.”

I put the sweater Nina had tossed to me down on the couch. “Nina, when I went to UDA last night Mr. Sampson wasn’t there.”

Nina blinked and hopped off the table. “We’re going to be late.”

I grabbed Nina’s cold arm and pulled her to the couch. “You don’t get it. He escaped.”

“He didn’t escape. He’s a grown man, Sophie. He doesn’t have a curfew. And UDA’s a job, not a prison”—Nina held up a single finger—“although it can feel that way sometimes.” She craned her head over her shoulder. “Are you ready, Vladimir? Come on.” She went to the kitchen and rummaged through the refrigerator, pulling out a bottled Starbucks for me and a couple of blood bags for herself and Vlad. “Ooh,” she said before she punctured her bag, “Ooh, AB negative!”

Living with a vampire took a lot of getting used to.

Nina’s fingers hovered above the key rack. “Want me to drive? I can strand you after work so you can ride in the detective’s squad car of love.” She wiggled her butt and shimmied with her chest. “He can turn on his love siren and—”

I held up a silencing hand. “It ate my car.”

Nina’s cheeks went hollow as she sucked the last of the blood from her pouch. “Whoa. Sounds like we’re out of UDA and straight into
Transformers.”

I gave her a look.

“I know,” she said, tossing her pouch in the trash, “more than meets the eye. Vlad, come on!”

Vlad stomped out of the room, looking more sullen than the usual brooding vampire. He had kept on his suit pants but changed into a fitted black T-shirt and lost the ascot.

“Better,” Nina said, examining him. “Almost.” She rolled up on her tiptoes and mussed his perfectly coifed and gelled back hair until it stood up around his crown in slick black spikes.

“Gosh,” Vlad said, ducking Nina’s hand, “Aunt Nina, stop!”

We were halfway down the hall when Nina leaned into me. “So, are you going to tell me what happened or not?”

I looked over my shoulder at Vlad, sullen, earbuds pressed in, black iPod peeking out of his pocket. “I don’t know—can he hear us?”

“Yes,” Vlad said.

I leaned closer to Nina, whispering. “I don’t know if it’s appropriate to talk about it in front of him. I wouldn’t want to scare him.”

Nina scrunched up her forehead. “Soph, he’s sixteen.”

“One hundred and twelve,” Vlad corrected.

“For a long time, he brought ugly death and carnal destruction to the entire eastern seaboard.”

My eyes widened. Nina held up her hands, placatingly. “But that was a super long time ago. He’s over that now, aren’t you, Vlad?”