Dark Taste of Rapture (24 page)

“Only with the eggs. You?” One graying brow winged up as she focused on Hector.

“Just coffee for me.”

At long last, that stressed gaze landed on Noelle. She hadn’t even glanced at the menu glowing on the side wall, but she’d been to places very similar to this one and knew what they served. Except for one tiny yet important detail. “Do you have real meat or do you only use the syns and clones?”

“For God’s sake.” Hector, grumbling.

“Are you kidding me with this?” Dallas, snarling.

Noelle never removed her gaze from the waitress. “Well?”

“Syns and clones. You want real, you’ll have to go somewhere else.”

She heaved another sigh. Yeah, she’d figured that was the case; she was disappointed nonetheless.

During the war, things like water, animals, and, well, anything delicious had been contaminated, ruined, or almost completely wiped out. Now, to get the real thing, you had to pay—and pay out the ass. Only a few shops in this district catered to people like Noelle, who were more than willing to bend over.

“Oh, come on,” the waitress said, what little patience she’d had vanishing. “You want something or you don’t. Which is it?”

The attitude could use a tune-up, but its rust and lack of shine wouldn’t diminish her tip. In fact, she could mess up Noelle’s entire order, spit in her food, whatever, but the macaroni guaranteed her a hefty tip.

“I’ll have two eggs, over medium, with a side of hash browns, and don’t skimp on the butter or whatever variation you use. I want four strips of bacon, two sausage patties, and four hotcakes. I don’t care what kind of syrup you bring, just make sure it’s warm. Also, I want two pieces of toast, but don’t put any butter on those. And I want jelly, whatever you’ve got.”

An astonished, “That’s it?”

“For now.”

A
hmph
sounded as the waitress finished typing. She wandered off, and Noelle noticed that both Hector and Dallas were staring at her with equal measures of bewilderment.

“What? I’m hungry. I didn’t eat before, during, or after the wedding.”

“Yeah, but you just came from a gruesome murder scene,” Hector, Mr. Obvious, said.

“And that means I should starve for the rest of my life?”

“It means you shouldn’t eat something that looks like the dead guy’s chest,” Dallas snapped. “Now can the two of you stop flirting with each other? It’s annoying.”

Seriously, what was wrong with him? “How about this,” she told them both. “I’ll worry about my appetite and potential digestive problems, and you two worry about shutting your fucking mouths. Sound good? As for the flirting thing, your radar must be malfunctioning, Dallas. If you consider
that
flirting, I feel sorry for your girlfriends.”

No response was forthcoming, just more staring. Although Hector seemed to be battling a grin.

She snuggled deeper into her uncomfortable seat, the vinyl cracked and torn and catching in what was left of her savaged dress. She couldn’t wait to shower and change. Alone. Without Hector.

Avoid, avoid
. Any topic was safer than the man across from her.

She cast her gaze through the smoke-hazed room. There were about twenty booths, nearly all of them stuffed with AIR agents, some in uniforms, some in street clothes. Conversations were loud, and laughter, when it came, was gruff.

There were two TVs posted in the far corners of the room, both playing the same game. Football. And there was Corban Blue in all his Arcadian glory, tall, strong, as pale as a moonbeam, making an astonishing pass, the ball whizzing through the air so quickly the camera couldn’t track it.

Lately, she just couldn’t escape him.

“What are you looking at with such an amazed expression?” Hector asked. He turned, saw the television, and grunted like the caveman he truly was. “I didn’t know you were into sports.”

“I’m not. I’m into the men. Uniforms are hot.”

Hector had removed his gloves on the drive over and hadn’t replaced them. Now he curled his fingers around the edge of the table, his knuckles quickly bleaching of color. What? Had her reply pissed him off? Made him jealous? Well, good. He deserved to stew.

God knew she would relive their interaction tonight over and over again, and it’d be nice to know he had reacted to her, even in so small a way.

Dallas nudged him, and the two focused on each other. A conversation about sports ensued, followed by an exchange of wedding gossip. Hector relaxed, the fine lines around his eyes easing.

Since neither of them seemed keen to discuss the case, she whipped out her cell and texted Ava.

R U a vamp yet?
Fingers crossed the text interrupted something important.

McKell’s blood could turn anyone or thing—like, say, a dog named Hellina that Noelle used to own—into a vampire. And now that bloodsucking bastard was vamping up her Ava. Her sweet, baby-faced Ava. Would her tan fade? Probably. Would she sprout fangs? Definitely. Hellina had.

No worries, though. Noelle would ensure Ava always looked her best. She drafted a mental Christmas for her friend. Sunless tanner, bloodred lipstick that wouldn’t smear, a car with UV-repellant shield armor, and a recipe for making Mr. Bloody Marys with McKell’s blood. Because they were mated, Ava would be unable to drink from anyone but McKell without sickening. So no noshing on agents or targets who got on her nerves.

Noelle’s phone vibrated, signaling the reply had just arrived.

Knowing Ava, her cell rested on the nightstand beside the bed. Just in case Noelle needed her. A darling gesture, and one of the many reasons Noelle adored her.

Screen name
Tits McGee
said:
Nope. We bargained. He has 2 last 30 mins before I let him turn me. 3 tries in, and no go
. Noelle had named her after a character in an old movie she and Ava loved to watch, but just then she seriously considered changing the name back to Pocket Rocket. That one always had a nice ring.

2 excited about having U 4 eternity, I guess
.

I know! He’s so lucky!

The waitress arrived with the coffees, sloshing them on the table before hurrying away. Noelle added a liberal amount of fake cream and fake sugar, wishing to God she’d thought to bring a purse full of the essentials.

After a few sips of the nasty concoction, she started typing again.
Thought: maybe I should become a vamp 2
. She tossed out the suggestion as a joke, but absolute, utter longing swept through her. Ava was going to age slowly. Noelle wasn’t. Ava was going to live a long, long time. Noelle had another forty or fifty years. Maybe. And that just wasn’t good enough.

So what if she would never again be able to venture out in the daylight. There were simulators and virtual reality programs available. So what if she would be as pale as milk. That’s what cosmetics were for. As long as she had Ava, nothing else mattered. Right?

Tits McGee:
R U joking? U better not B joking! I will stab U in throat if U R joking!

Her gaze strayed to Hector, who was still engaged in conversation with Dallas. Still ignoring her. If she vamped it up, he would age quickly and she would age slowly.
She
would have to watch
him
die.

Okay, so maybe something else mattered. Even though Hector currently occupied the top spot on her shit list, the thought of him dead and gone made her chest ache.

She typed:
Let me think about it
.

I will do my best 2 help w/right decision. Luv U
.

Luv U 2
.

A few seconds later, her phone gave another vibration, and she had to blink rapidly to see the screen clearly.

Tits McGee:
Food 4 thought. U will look so hawt w/ fangs & I will

The text ended there. Without punctuation, without finishing. Then Noelle’s cell was ringing, Ava’s voice saying, “You better answer this, genius, or I’ll kick your ass!”

Frowning, Dallas glanced around the diner. “Ava’s here?”

“No.” Hector pinched the bridge of his nose. “That’s Noelle’s ring tone you’re hearing.”

“Uh, yes, hello?” Noelle said into the piece, knowing exactly who it was. On her way here, she’d programmed her ringer to go off for everyone
but
her mother, who had tried calling again. “Noelle Tremain, master of the universe at your service. How may I help you?”

“Stop texting my wife,” McKell growled from the other end.
Bingo
. “I need her full attention right now.”
Click
.

A chuckle escaped Noelle as she put her phone away. Original mission accomplished.

Hector’s golden eyes pierced her, becoming a spotlight on all the needy places inside her. “Who was that?”

To hide the fact that she was now quivering inside—God, his intensity was arousing—she waved the question away with a flick of her wrist. “You have no right to the answer. Besides, we’re here for business. Let’s get to it, shall we? If you two are done cackling like hens, that is.”

Dallas popped his jaw. “I do not cackle. I bitch like a he-man.”

“We have that in common, then.” She sipped at her coffee, grimaced at the thickness, and added more cream and sugar. “So why are you here when I’m secondary on the case?” A fact she would not let either of them forget.

Hector answered for him. “He helped me a year ago, with the women found in the warehouse. A mysterious Arcadian popping in and out after our tipster comes out of hiding. It’s suspicious.”

So he’d jumped to that as well.

“And I’m so ready to nail whoever was responsible,” Dallas said.

The fact that both men remembered that case, despite the hundreds of others they’d since worked, meant it had left a mark deep in their souls.

“Any luck on identifying the Arcadian who snatched the women out of the hospital?” she asked. Nothing had been in the file, but then, all details weren’t always reported.

Dallas shook his head, dark hair falling over his forehead. He didn’t brush the strands aside. Maybe
he didn’t notice them. He’d been silent and stiff at the crime scene, but after seeing the body, he’d become
deadly
silent, and
savagely
stiff. “First order of business is finding out who Marks was working with and if any recent dealings had gone sour.”

“I’ll search Marks’s home and office in the morning,” Hector said. “Talk to his employees, that kind of thing.”

With me, right?
she projected at him.
Partner
.

His expression remained blank.

She brought her mug to her lips, blew into the steam, gulped. The sugar had dissolved, sweetening the taste, and the cream had thinned the liquid. To make sure she had his full attention, she moaned her approval louder than necessary, as if she were having sex with her cup.

He rubbed at his arm, his jaw clenched. Not so blank any more. “Don’t do that.”

Innocent as the devil, she blinked over at him. “Don’t do what?”
Arouse you? Make you crave more of me?

“So what I’m trying to say is, we should consider using the witness as bait to draw out the Arcadian or whoever hired him.” Dallas’s snapped words stopped her from doing something stupid, like leaping over the table and devouring Hector. Uh, she meant, slapping some sense into Hector. “If the two cases are connected, the Arcadian will try to cover his tracks and tie up all loose ends. Right now, the witness is the only loose end we’ve got.”

“That we know of,” she replied. “But he’ll never agree. He was scared as hell already.”

“Well, we don’t have to use him in the field,” Hector
said. “Just his name and someone who kinda looks like him. I don’t want to go that route, though. Not yet. Not until we have a few more answers.”

For a long moment after he’d spoken, he watched her, silent, his intense expression somehow transporting her back to the reception hall, with his arms caging her, his lips pressed into hers. Hot, aching arousal pooled between her legs.

Stop. You have to stop this
.

She cleared her throat, breaking the spell.

He looked away. “I’ve got agents scouring Whore’s Corner, searching for other possible witnesses. Especially someone who isn’t a user. They’re texting me updates and so far no luck.”

“They probably won’t find anyone,” she said. “Witness mentioned a foot chase. Our killer would have found anyone else in the vicinity and we would have found a trail of dead bodies.”

“Maybe. Or, if our killer found someone else, he might have taken him to a secondary location, thinking everything was then under control. But there are no footprints anywhere. So either our witness was lying and there was never a chase or they were wiped.”

“Wouldn’t be difficult for a rich man to wipe the prints. With the right equipment, you can wipe anything. You need to have the agents search the field for a small pinlike device. It’s small, thin, and will blend in, but when shoved into the ground and switched on, it disrupts the natural lay of the land, kind of like shaking dirt in a glass.” Of course, if the device was used, the body could have been dragged there without leaving tracks.

“Never heard of something like that,” Dallas said. “Wouldn’t we have felt a quake or something?”

“Nope. And you’ve never heard of something like that because it’s black market and new. I certainly don’t know about it because Ava and I trashed a senator’s prized backyard after he threw a tantrum when she wouldn’t sleep with him. I just like to stay up to date on new inventions.”

“Up to date?” Hector said. “That’s the alibi you’re going with?”

A shrug of one shoulder.

“I’ll have the agents look. As for us, we need to notify Mr. Marks’s family about his death before the press learns his identity. I tried to phone the mother, Brenda Marks, on the way over, but there was no answer.” There was a dagger-like sharpness to his tone. Clearly he hated that part of the job. “When she finds out, there will be a public outcry for action and answers, and we’ll have cameras on our every move.”

“Probably. Brenda Marks is as cold and unfeeling as a woman can get. You don’t have to worry about any tears or accusations that you should have done your job and saved Bobby. But she does like the limelight, and she will phone every newspaper in town the moment you leave her.”