“I've done pieces on the victims of juice but not on the Riders themselves,” Sierra said. “In fact, I've blamed the Guild for not doing more to take care of the hunters who become addicts.”
“Speaking of which,” Simon said, “how did your interview with the new boss go today?”
A fresh wave of panic lanced through her. She leaped to her feet and nearly toppled over when she automatically put weight on the shoe with the broken heel. “Good grief, I almost forgot.”
Mitch's forehead wrinkled. “Forgot what?”
“I'm supposed to meet Fontana at a quarter to five.” She checked her watch. “That's less than fifteen minutes from now. Come on, Elvis, we have to hurry.”
She limped toward the door.
“Hold on,” Simon said. “Why are you meeting the new Guild boss again this afternoon?”
She opened the door. “I forgot to tell you that I'm marrying him.”
There were a few seconds of stunned silence behind her. Then she heard a sudden scrambling and the scrape of bar-stool legs. Boots hit the old amberwood floors.
She paused and looked back. Mitch, Jeff, Andy, and Simon were rushing to follow her out the door, practically tripping over each other in the process.
“What?” she said.
“You'll be needing witnesses,” Mitch said.
“And a driver,” Simon added, snapping her keys out of her hand. “After that little incident with the Riders, you're way too shaken up to drive.”
She frowned. “I am?”
“For sure,” Jeff said, nodding wisely. “Simon hasn't had anything to drink except coffee. He's your designated driver.”
“And on the way to the wedding, you can tell us exactly how the hell you wound up getting hitched to Fontana,” Simon said.
Chapter 6
THE LITTLE FLOAT CAREENED AROUND THE CORNER, TIRES squealing, and screeched to a halt in front of the office tower that housed the city's various bureaucracies. The building was a gray, uninspired, all-purpose government structure. You could pay your taxes on the second floor, sign a Marriage of Convenience contract on the fourth, and report for your court appearance on the fifth.
From her position in the front seat, Sierra could see a small cluster of people gathered at the entrance. Ivor Runtley, Kay, Matt, and Phil were clustered around Fontana and a second, dark-haired, dark-eyed man she recognized from news photos. Ray Takashima was the newly appointed head of the Crystal City Guild's Security Department. Like Fontana, he had seemingly materialized out of nowhere a couple of years ago and moved up fast within the organization.
“Damn,” Simon said. “Fontana's already here. That makes us officially late.”
“It's okay,” Jeff said. He was in the backseat, squashed between Mitch and Andy. The rear of the Float had not been designed to carry three burly hunters. “We've got the bride. Brides are allowed to be late.”
“Way I hear it, nobody is late for an appointment with Fontana,” Andy put in ominously. “At least not more than once.”
“Oh, for heaven's sake, don't worry about it,” Sierra said. “It's just an MC. Besides, we've got a really good excuse.”
“Right, the Riders,” Andy said, brightening. “Maybe Fontana will buy it.”
“It's not as though he has a choice,” Sierra said coolly. The hunters' awe of Fontana was starting to become very irritating.
“Everyone out,” Simon ordered. “There's no room to park on the street. I'll leave the car in the city garage and join you in a few minutes.”
Sierra popped open the passenger door and climbed out cautiously on her broken heel. Elvis perched on her shoulder, still buzzing with excitement after the wild ride from the Quarter.
Phil detached himself from the group at the entrance and rushed toward the Float. He raised his camera into position as he ran.
Fontana followed him very deliberately. He was dressed in the black jacket, shirt, and trousers he'd worn earlier in the day. The expression on his hard face was unreadable, but that didn't stop Sierra's intuitive senses. She was suddenly fully rezzed, just as she had been that morning when she was shown into Fontana's office at Guild headquarters.
Get a grip, woman
. There was nothing personal about any of this. Fontana planned to use her just as she planned to use him. This was all about finding out what had happened to those missing men. She had to stay focused.
She stood precariously balanced on her one good heel and waited for Jeff, Mitch, and Andy to squeeze out of the tiny backseat.
“Cool,” Phil said, rezzing his camera again and again. “This is like one of those little cars at the circus that are filled with clowns.”
Jeff squinted at Phil. “Who are you calling a clown, son?”
“Sorry,” Phil said, firing off more shots. “Slip of the tongue. Sierra, turn this way. Chin up, that's right. Now smile. You're supposed to look like you're in love, not like you're going to a funeral.”
Fontana arrived. “Let's save the photo ops for later,” he said.
It was not a suggestion. Sierra was amazed to see Phil actually lower his camera. Fontana took Sierra's arm.
“Apologies for the delay, sir,” Simon said, leaning forward to speak to Fontana through the open door of the Float. “Sierra had a little problem. The guys can explain it.”
“Let's hope so.” Fontana surveyed Sierra. “Are you all right?”
“Yes,” she managed, pleased that she sounded relatively calm in spite of her skittering senses. “How bad do I look?”
It dawned on her that she had not checked a full-length mirror since the fall in the street and the mad dash to safety in the Green Gate. She probably appeared somewhat the worse for wear.
“I don't care how it looks,” Fontana said. “I'm asking about the damage.”
“Oh.” She noticed that her glasses were slightly crooked. She adjusted them and then looked down at her muddied coat. In the process she saw that her stockings were shredded. “A couple of bruises, I think, and my shoe is ruined, but that's about it.”
“What happened?” he asked.
“It's a long story,” she said. “I'll tell you later.”
“I want the story now,” he said quietly.
He probably couldn't help that air of command, she thought. Nevertheless, she was not in the mood for it.
“In case you haven't noticed,” she said, “everyone's waiting for us.”
That information did not seem to register. Fontana made no move to steer her toward the waiting onlookers.
Andy cleared his throat. “Couple of Night Riders tried to grab her purse in front of her apartment building, boss. She took a nasty fall in the street.”
“We ran the bastards off with a few ghosts,” Mitch explained.
“Don't worry,” Jeff said. “They won't be back anytime soon. We explained to them that Jade Street is hunter territory.”
Sierra blinked. “Well, what do you know. Guess it was a short story, after all. Could have sworn it would take longer to tell it.”
Fontana tightened his grip on her arm. She winced and sucked in a sharp breath.
“What?” he said, loosening his grasp.
“That's the side I fell on when I tripped,” she explained. “It's a little sore.”
He released her swiftly and took her other arm. This time his hand closed around her with a tenderness that surprised her.
“Are you certain that they were Night Riders?” he asked.
“Or a good imitation thereof,” she said dryly. “They were in full costume. Black helmets and lots of black leather.”
“And big black Wave bikes,” Jeff volunteered. “They're a Rider trademark.”
Fontana looked at the four men. “I owe each of you, gentlemen. Anytime. Anywhere.”
It was a somber vow. Jeff, Mitch, Simon, and Andy accepted it as such. The new Guild boss had openly declared himself in their debt. Sierra knew enough about Guild tradition to realize that was a very big deal. The four men had just been given the right to call on the most powerful man in the organization for a favor at any time in the future.
“Glad to be able to help out,” Jeff said. “Sierra's a friend of ours.”
Fontana nodded. He looked as if he wanted to discuss the matter further and in depth, but to Sierra's surprise, he shot a quick glance at his watch.
“We're due in the registrar's office,” he said. “I'll look into this later.”
Startled by the hard edge on the words, Sierra pushed her glasses higher on her nose.
“It was just an attempted purse snatching,” she said. “The cops almost never pick up those kinds of criminals, not unless they're caught red-handed.”
“There are other sources besides the police,” Fontana said evenly.
A chill went down her spine, but before she could ask any questions, he steered her toward the entrance where her colleagues were waiting.
Fontana nodded at Ray Takashima, who also wore the Guild exec black.
“Ray, I'd like you to meet my future wife, Sierra McIntyre,” Fontana said. “Sierra, this is Ray Takashima. He's a friend of mine.”
“How do you do, Mr. Takashima?” She extended her hand. “I've seen you on the evening news a couple of times.”
Ray gave her an easy, friendly smile that totally belied the power she knew that he wielded.
“A pleasure, Miss McIntyre, and please call me Ray,” he said. He eyed Elvis. “Is that a dust bunny?”
“Yes,” she said. “His name is Elvis.”
“Didn't know they made good pets.”
“They don't. Elvis is a companion, not a pet.”
“Got it,” Ray said. “I hope you don't mind me attending your wedding. Figured Fontana might need someone to prop him up in case he got a bad case of nerves. His first MC, you know.”
“Yes, I know,” she said without stopping to think. “I checked out the public records.”
Ray laughed. “Watch your step, Fontana, you're marrying a journalist. That means she knows how to do research.”
She had been a little amazed that there were no Marriages of Convenience cluttering up Fontana's past. At his age, it would not have been at all out of the ordinary for him to have been involved in a least a couple. As a group, Guild men were known to be somewhat reckless when it came to their love lives. When they did finally settle down into Covenant Marriages, they tended to marry within the Guild. Perhaps Fontana preferred the freedom that came with casual affairs.
That thought gave her a bit of a start. From what she had been able to discover in her hurried background check, Fontana had been unusually discreet in his private life. She had not uncovered any hint of a current mistress, but that didn't mean there wasn't one. If a mystery woman existed, she probably wasn't too excited about the prospect of Fontana entering into an MC with some other woman, even if the arrangement was strictly business.
Ivor Runtley frowned at her. “What the hell happened to you?”
“Long story,” Sierra said again. “At least, it seemed like it at the time.”
“You look like you got hit by a bus,” Matt offered helpfully.
She gave him a dazzling smile. “Gee, thanks, Matt. You really know how to boost a girl's spirits.”
“Forget him.” Kay grabbed her hand. “Come on, we've got to get you to the ladies' room and perform some running repairs.”
“Not now,” Fontana said, opening the front door. “We're late enough as it is. Let's get this done. You can clean her up later.”
Sierra walked into the lobby, swung around to face him, and dug in her one unbroken heel.
“ âLet's get this done'?”
she repeated ominously.
Ray winked at her. “As you can see, Fontana has the soul of a true romantic.”
Sierra raised her chin. “I want to stop at the ladies' room first.”
“Of course she does,” Kay said. She lifted Elvis down from Sierra's shoulder and handed him to Matt. “Here, you take the King. We'll meet you all at the registrar's office on the fourth floor.”
She whisked Sierra toward the nearest elevator.
“No, wait,” Sierra said quickly.
“Right, sorry,” Kay said. “Forgot about your claustrophobia.”
She altered course, dragging Sierra toward the stairwell. The last thing Sierra saw before she limped up the stairs was the expression on Fontana's face. He didn't look angry, she thought, or even annoyed. He looked bemused.
“I get the impression that Fontana isn't used to having someone contradict his orders,” Kay observed, pausing to catch her breath.
“I get that impression, too,” Sierra said.
When they reached the fourth floor, Kay led the way into the room marked Ladies.
“Take off your coat,” she said. “Let's see what we've got to work with.”
Obediently Sierra slipped off the mud-splattered coat.
Kay's eyes widened with dazed horror. “Sierra McIntyre, tell me you did not wear black to your own wedding.”
Baffled, Sierra looked down at the demure, long-sleeved black dress. “What's wrong with it?”
“This is a wedding, not a funeral,” Kay wailed.
“The groom is in black,” Sierra said, feeling on the defensive.
“So what? It's okay for the groom to wear black. Oh, never mind. Too late now. But just wait until you see what this looks like in tomorrow's edition of the
Curtain
. You are going to be so sorry.”
“Why?”
“I can see the headline now. âNew Guild Boss and Mystery Woman Wed in Secret Alien Vampire Ceremony.' ”