Secret Life Of A Vampire (5 page)

On the third night of his investigation, he located a newspaper article that was six years old. Former Miss Teen Louisiana Nearly Dies in Car Accident. His heart tightened in his chest. Santo cielo. The photo showed a crumpled car turned upside down. Lara had been inside that? He scanned the article. Intensive care. Not expected to live.

Merda. What pain and horror had this poor girl endured? He reached for the phone to call her.

No. He'd begged her to leave him alone, and she had. He closed the browser window and paced across the office. He should avoid her like Angus said. No good could come from contacting her. Instead, he should be grateful that she'd recovered from the accident. She was alive and well.

And risking her life every night on the street. He pulled his cell phone from his pocket. She could have called during the day while he was in his death-sleep. No messages. He entered her home and work numbers into his phone's directory. Just in case.

Nine circles of hell. What a fool he was. Seven nights had passed, and he still wanted to see her. He almost wished she would get into trouble.

It was just after eleven Sunday night when Lara and her partner arrived at a fifth-floor condo overlooking Hudson River Park. Mrs. Kelsey Trent had called 911, asking for help before abruptly hanging up. Lara could hear the screaming voices from the hallway. A man and a woman.

Harvey knocked on the green-painted door. “NYPD!”

Lara waited about four feet away from Harvey, her weapon drawn and ready if her partner was attacked.

The door swung open. “What the hell do you want?” A middle-aged man stood there in plaid pajama bottoms and a navy T-shirt. His eyes narrowed at the sight of their uniforms. “You must be at the wrong place. There's nothing going on here.”

“Are you Mr. Trent?” Harvey asked.

“Maybe. What do you want?”

The man reeked of alcohol, and Lara noted the bloody knuckles on his right hand.

“We received a call,” Harvey said. “May we come in?”

“A call?” Mr. Trent gave them a confused look, then his expression cleared. He looked over his shoulder. “You stupid bitch, did you call the police?”

Lara heard a feminine groan from inside the condo.

She raised her voice. “Mrs. Trent, do you need medical attention?”

“There's nothing wrong with her,” Mr. Trent insisted.

Lara lifted her chin. “We're not leaving, Mr. Trent, until we have properly assessed your wife's physical condition.”

“Well, aren't you the feisty one,” Mr. Trent sneered at her. “Then come in, sweetcakes, and properly assess. Assess your little ass off.”

Harvey stepped into the foyer and neatly maneuvered the drunken man to the side so Lara could enter. “Can you tell me what happened, sir?”

Mr. Trent ran a hand through his thinning hair. “Kelsey slipped in the shower. That's all.”

Lara quickly surveyed the foyer. An oriental rug ran the length of the polished wooden floor. Against one wall rested a wooden console table, topped with a brass lamp that illuminated the narrow hall. Arched openings led into a living room on one side and a dining room on the other. There were closed doors at the back of the foyer and a cushioned bench.

A woman sat there. Kelsey Trent, Lara assumed. Her peach-colored silk bathrobe matched her slippers. She'd folded her arms on her knees and was leaning over to rest her forehead on her arms.

“We heard your voice raised in anger,” Harvey told the drunken husband.

“I was yelling at Kelsey for being so clumsy,” Mr. Trent grumbled. “Because I care so much, you know.”

Lara holstered her sidearm and sat on the bench next to the wife. “Mrs. Trent, are you all right?”

She lifted her head. Her left eye was puffy and bruised, and her lip was cut. She cast a wary glance at her husband. “I… fell in the shower.”

“See?” Mr. Trent said. “That's what I told you.”

“Let's go to the kitchen and fix you an ice pack.” Lara helped the woman stand and gave Harvey a pointed look.

Harvey would understand. He would commiserate with the husband, trying to lure him into a confession of assault and battery. They could go ahead and arrest Mr. Trent on suspicion, but a confession would make it easier to convict him in court.

“Kitchen's in here.” Kelsey Trent opened a door and led Lara into a brightly lit room.

Lara grabbed a dish towel off the gray granite countertop and opened the freezer door. “Do you have any other injuries?”

“No, I'm fine.” Kelsey sat at the kitchen table. “I just slipped and fell.”

Lara deposited a handful of ice cubes in the center of the towel. “Let's be honest about this, okay? If you had fallen in the shower, it wouldn't be just your face that was hurt.”

Kelsey's shoulders drooped.

Lara folded the towel, encasing the ice inside. On the way to the table, she noticed the empty vodka bottle in the sink. “You called us for help, Kelsey. We can't help you if you won't tell us the truth.”

“I—I shouldn't have fussed at him for drinking so much.”

Lara handed her the ice pack. “This is not your fault. How many times has he hit you?”

Kelsey dabbed the ice pack against her lip. “This is only the second—no, third time.”

“One time is too many.” Lara sat beside her. “You need to put a stop to it. Press charges.”

“No! That would make Charlie so mad. It would get even worse then.”

“No, it would be better. He'd be in jail.”

Kelsey's bruised face contorted with horror. “But what would I do without him?”

I don't know, live? Lara tamped down on her growing frustration. “Listen, he's going to keep using you as a punching bag. In fact, you can count on him getting more and more violent.”

Kelsey glanced at the open door. “What's that officer doing to him? He won't arrest Charlie, will he?”

“They're just talking for now—”

“He'd better not make Charlie mad,” Kelsey continued, growing more agitated. “Charlie has a gun in the living—”

“What?” Lara rose to her feet. “Stay here.”

She unsnapped her holster as she peered into the foyer. No sign of Harvey or Charlie Trent. They must have moved into the living room. She raised her voice. “Harvey? Can I speak to you for a minute?”

“What are you doing?” Kelsey shouted. “Don't shoot my Charlie!”

“Quiet,” Lara hissed. She heard male voices shouting. “Harvey!”

BAM! A gun fired.

Kelsey screamed.

Lara's heart lurched in her chest, and she drew her weapon. “Harvey, answer me!”

“Goddammit!” Charlie roared from the living room. “You stupid bitch! This wouldn't have happened if you hadn't called the police!”

Lara could hardly think with Charlie bellowing and Kelsey shrieking. Panic seized her as she mentally pictured Harvey dying on the living-room floor. Get a grip. Harvey needed her to stay calm. She'd gone through a jillion simulations like this at the academy, but still, she wasn't prepared for the sheer terror of real people dying.

She punched the transmitter on her shoulder. “Shots fired. Officer down. Requesting an ambulance and immediate backup.”

“Ten-four. They're on their way,” the dispatcher said.

Even so, it could take five minutes or more for the cavalry to arrive. Lara's heart thundered in her ears as she positioned herself next to the door frame and readied her pistol. “Charlie Trent! Put down your gun and step into the foyer with your hands up!”

“I'm not going to jail for this!” Charlie shouted. “Goddammit! This is Kelsey's fault. I'll make her pay.”

A chill crept down Lara's back. Charlie was planning to take everyone down with him. She shut the kitchen door. It would take Charlie a few seconds to open it, and in those few seconds, she would have to shoot. She glanced around and spotted two more doors. One looked like it led into the dining room. What if Charlie attacked from that direction? And then, there was a third door. She rushed over to Kelsey. “Where does that door lead?”

“It's a back entrance.”

“Then I want you to leave. Now.”

Kelsey shook her head, whimpering.

“I'll kill you, you stupid bitch,” Charlie yelled. “And the children, too.”

Children? Lara's heart plummeted. “You have children?”

Kelsey burst into tears. “My babies.”

This was a nightmare. Lara fought to remain calm. Was Harvey dead? Would Charlie attack his wife first or the children? Oh God, she couldn't think. She needed to act now. She had to stop Charlie before he killed anyone. Dammit! If only there was another option…

If you're ever in trouble ...

He couldn't come here immediately. Or could he? Jack was so… different.

“I'm coming for you, Kelsey!” Charlie yelled.

Lara heaved at the thick kitchen table and it fell onto its side with a loud crash. She squatted behind it with Kelsey. With shaking fingers, she retrieved her cell phone from her shirt pocket. Three days ago, she'd told her roommate about Jack. LaToya had urged her to call him, but Lara had refused. Then LaToya had swiped Lara's phone and entered Jack's number on speed dial at number one.

What did she have to lose? Lara pressed 1, then set the phone down and readied her weapon.

Charlie's heavy footsteps pounded across the foyer.

“Pronto?” Jack's voice emanated from the phone.

“Jack—”

The kitchen door burst open and shots exploded across the room.

Lara's heart slammed in her chest as she crouched behind the thick table with Kelsey Trent. Charlie had taken a few wild shots as he'd entered the kitchen, probably to keep her from shooting him. A bullet whizzed over her head and thudded into the wall behind her. Kelsey screamed.

Lara's chest constricted, making it hard to breathe. The thought of sticking her head out was terrifying. But she had to see to take aim. She struggled to remember all the instructions that had been drummed into her head at the academy. Dammit. She'd thought the simulations were scary, but they were child's play compared to the real thing.

The shots stopped.

Now or never, Lara leaned to the side of the table and aimed her pistol. Time suddenly slowed to a crawl. A cold sweat chilled her skin while her ears filled with a buzzing noise. All she could feel was her right index finger crooked against the trigger, ready to kill.

God, no. Forced to kill someone. She'd known in theory that this could happen, but she'd foolishly believed that somehow, if she was careful enough, it never would.

Charlie spotted her and aimed his gun.

This was it.

The air wavered in front of Lara.

“What the hell?” Charlie stumbled backward.

He saw it, too? Lara's knees shook in her semi-crouched position. The multicolored pocket of air took shape. Human shape. Jack. She gasped.

“Oh my God!” Charlie pointed his gun.

With a blur of super speed, Jack knocked the gun from Charlie's hand and slammed him down onto the tile floor.

Lara blinked, stunned by Jack's speed. In the millisecond it took to reopen her eyes, Jack had Charlie pinned down and his hands pulled behind his back. Jack be nimble, Jack be quick.

“Get off me!” Charlie squirmed, but couldn't budge his captor.

A wave of cold air swirled around the room.

Jack's eyes narrowed, gleaming with a golden intensity. “Be still. Be quiet.”

Charlie went limp. Kelsey slumped against the table with a blank expression. Lara shivered. Jack. He was doing his mind tricks again.

“Lara, pass me your handcuffs,” Jack demanded.

Icy cold vapor crept along her skin. Oh God, it had been cold in the hotel room, too. Was Jack doing that? And how had he magically appeared out of thin air?

He glanced at her. “Are you all right?”

“I—” She stumbled, and her pistol knocked against a table leg. She glanced at it, confused and disoriented by a reality that had suddenly zoomed forward at warp speed.

“Put the gun away, Lara,” Jack spoke softly. “And give me your handcuffs.”

She holstered her sidearm, then walked stiffly over to Jack and handed him the cuffs. “Thank God you came.” She hadn't had to shoot. Jack had saved her from killing. Jack may have saved her life. And the lives of everyone else in the house. Including her partner…

“Harvey!” She ran from the kitchen and located him on the floor in the living room. He was barely conscious, his hand pressed against his blood-soaked shirt.

She spotted a laundry basket full of folded clothes on the coffee table and grabbed whatever was on top. A bath towel, good. She knelt beside her partner and pressed the towel against the bullet wound in his side.

“Butch,” Harvey gasped. “Thank God. I heard gunshots. I was afraid you were—”

“I'm fine. Everything's under control. You just hang in there, okay? The bus is on its way.”

Harvey grimaced. “I was stupid. I saw his gun, but I hesitated. I—I've never had to shoot anyone before.”

“I know.” Lara's vision blurred with tears. “I didn't want to shoot, either.” What a relief Jack had arrived when he did. But now that she was away from him, she could feel the cold fog clearing from her mind. She realized Kelsey and her crazy husband were staying perfectly still and quiet because Jack had ordered them to be that way. He'd taken complete control of the situation without even wrinkling his expensive suit.

She shuddered. What sort of man could magically appear? Or move as fast as lightning? Or control people's minds? At least he was on her side. Otherwise, he could be a really dangerous man.

Lara's attention snapped back to Harvey when his eyes flickered shut. “Harvey? Harvey, hang in there.”

“He's unconscious.” Jack strode into the room. “He'll need a transfusion right away.” He closed his eyes briefly and drew in a deep breath. “He's Type O positive.”

“How can you tell?” Lara kept the towel pressed against Harvey's wound as she looked Jack over. He looked so normal, if you could count extreme good looks as normal.

He knelt beside her. “I assume you called for backup and an ambulance?” When she nodded, he continued, “The man and woman won't remember me. I've altered their memories—”

“How? How do you do it?”

“It's hard to explain.” He raised a hand when she started to object. “Not now, Lara. We're short on time, and we need to make sure your story matches up.”

“You expect me to lie?”

“This is the truth for the couple in the kitchen. After the man shot your partner, he came after you. You hid his wife behind the table while you waited just inside the door. He barged inside, shooting wildly, and you knocked him on the back of the head with your baton.”

“That's the way they remember it?”

“Yes. The guy fell unconscious on the floor. You cuffed him, then ran in here to help your partner.”

“I don't think the guy was ever unconscious.”

“He will be soon.” Jack removed a white handkerchief from an inner coat pocket. “Give me your baton.”

“He's already restrained. You're going to hit him?”

“Lara, the story has to make sense. It'll be more believable that you subdued an armed man who's bigger than you if you first rendered him unconscious.”

He was right, though Lara didn't like to admit it. Sirens wailed outside. Backup was arriving, and hopefully, an ambulance for Harvey. “Here.” She handed Jack the baton. “But don't hit him too hard.”

Jack's mouth curled up. “You're too sweet for this line of work, bellissima.” His smile faded. “That man tried to kill you. He deserves more than a knot on his head.”

Jack left the room, holding the baton with the handkerchief. Lara wondered if he was right, and she cared too much. But if she didn't care, how could she be a good cop? She tensed, waiting for a sound.

Clonk. She winced. Harvey hadn't yelped or even moaned. He had obeyed Jack's order to remain quiet. In a few seconds, Jack was back and handing her the baton.

She wedged it under her belt. “How do you move so fast?”

He dragged a hand through his thick black hair. “There's no time to explain now.”

But she wanted answers now, dammit. She knew the rest of tonight would be taken up with paperwork and hospital visits to check on Harvey. “Okay. Tomorrow.”

She turned her head as footsteps pounded down the hallway outside. It sounded like a herd of elephants charging to the rescue. She could almost picture Tarzan riding on one of their backs. No, wait. The wildly handsome hero was already in the room.

“You'd better tell me everything tomorrow.” She turned back to Jack.

He was gone.

“Oh, that smells good!” LaToya Lafayette dropped her handbag and keys on the console by the door. “What's cooking, girl?”

“Blackened redfish.” Lara carefully turned the fish filets in the skillet.

“Great!” LaToya removed her purple LSU Tiger hoodie and fluffed up her glossy black corkscrew curls.

“It's been raining all damned day.” She draped the damp sweatshirt over the back of a chair in their tiny living room. “So how come you're cooking? Not that I'm complaining. I love your cooking. But I was planning to take you out to celebrate.”

“I don't want to make a big deal out of it.”

“But it is a big deal.” LaToya strode into the kitchen. “You saved that woman's life. Her children, too. And Harvey.”

“I didn't save Harvey. The doctors did that.”

“You're too modest, girl.” LaToya washed her hands in the kitchen sink. “Everyone was talking about you at my precinct. I heard they're going to do a press conference with the chief of police giving you a commendation.”

“Oh God, I hope not.” Lara added chopped parsley and chives to the bowl of mashed potatoes.

“You know they'll milk this for all it's worth. Three months out of the academy and you're saving the day. You're like the poster child for how successful their training program is.”

“But I didn't do anything!” Lara smashed a clove of garlic with the flat edge of a knife. “Jack did it.”

“You know that. I know that. But nobody else does.” LaToya leaned a hip against the counter. “Now don't look at me that way, holding a knife, girl.”

Lara snorted as she scraped the smashed garlic into the potatoes. After a few hours of filling out forms and being interviewed by the detectives that had taken over the case, then another two hours spent at the hospital to check on Harvey, Lara had finally dragged home to her Brooklyn apartment about eight-thirty in the morning.

She'd recounted the story to LaToya before her friend had left for her job in the twenty-sixth precinct. Then,

Lara had showered and climbed into bed. But even in her state of exhaustion, she'd had trouble sleeping. Gunshots and screams bounced around in her head along with visions of Harvey, bleeding on the floor.

And she'd kept wondering about Jack. She'd decided the best way to thank him for charging to the rescue was a home-cooked meal, Louisiana style. She'd called his number, but he hadn't answered the phone. She left a message inviting him to dinner, then headed to the grocery store. She tried calling again about five p.m.

He never called back.

“What's in this salad?” LaToya studied the wooden bowl as she carried it to the table.

“Spinach, fire-roasted tomatoes, and pine nuts.”

“Ooh, fancy.” LaToya's gaze wandered over their best china, cloth napkins, and candlesticks. “You went to a lot of trouble here.”

“I was bored.” Lara loaded up two plates with fish and potatoes. “The captain ordered me to take some time off.”

“With pay? You lucky dog.” LaToya struck a match and lit the candles. “Even so, this seems awfully… romantic.”

“Let's eat.” Lara set the plates on the table.

LaToya's brown eyes narrowed as she blew out the match. “You did this for Jack, didn't you?”

Lara heaved a sigh as she sat at the table. There was no point in denying it. “All-right. I invited him to dinner, but he never returned my call. That doesn't mean I wasn't planning to eat with you.”

Latoya sat across from her. “Girl, I know when three's a crowd. I would have left you alone with the mystery man. But you say he never called back?”

“Nope.” Lara heaped some salad into their salad bowls. “And I left two messages on his voice mail.”

“Maybe he didn't get them.”

“I'm not calling him again. That would sound desperate. And I'm not desperate. At all.” Liar. She had really wanted to see him again.

LaToya drizzled balsamic vinaigrette over her salad. “That jerk. I'm tempted to call him myself and give him a piece of my mind.”

“No!”

LaToya smirked, then strode toward the refrigerator. “I have the perfect solution for this. Wine. It's multi-purposed. We can toast your heroic feats and drown our sorrows over disappointing men all at the same time.”

“I'll drink to that.” Lara stabbed at her salad. The food looked and smelled great, but her appetite was lacking. Damn that Jack. He didn't make any sense. He'd risked his life to help her, and now, he couldn't even return her call?

LaToya brought two glasses filled with white wine to the table. She sat and raised her glass. “A toast. To my best friend, a real hero.”

“I'm not a hero. It's bad enough to hear it at work, but I don't want to hear from you, when you know the truth.”

LaToya scowled at her. “Yeah, girl, I know the truth. If it wasn't for you, I'd still be a clerk in a convenience store in some town no one's ever heard of. You kept me going when I didn't think I could. You are my hero.”

Lara's eyes misted with tears. She'd first met LaToya when they'd shared a hospital room together after her car accident. LaToya had been shot during a robbery at the convenience store where she worked. Whereas Lara had lived a pampered life before the accident, LaToya had struggled to survive years of abuse. “You hated me at first.”

LaToya smiled. “I thought you were a spoiled little white girl. Miss Teen Louisiana.”

Lara winced. “And I'm sure it didn't help matters when my mom came to visit wearing a tiara and sash.”

LaToya laughed. “Your mom is wack, girl.”

“That's for sure.” Lara's mom was still entering beauty pageants at the age of fifty-two. “You helped me, too, you know. It would have been so much harder to rebel against my family and follow my dreams if I'd been all alone. I don't know what I would have done without you.”

“To us.” LaToya tapped Lara's glass with her own. “The two most bad-ass rookie cops in the big city.”

“To us. Live long and prosper.” Lara recited their favorite toast, borrowed from the Vulcans on Star Trek.

They ate in silence for a while, and Lara's thoughts drifted back to Jack. The rascal had altered Mr. and Mrs. Trent's memories so that their statements made her sound like a hero. And she had to make sure her story matched theirs. “I have to go see the department shrink.”

“That's probably routine procedure.” LaToya scooped some potatoes into her mouth.

“I suppose.” Lara pushed her fish around the plate. “I'm kinda worried about it. I mean, what if I tell the doctor my story, and he realizes I'm lying?”

“He won't question it. Not when it confirms everything the Trents said.”

Lara sighed. “I'm not at all comfortable with everyone thinking I'm a hero.”

“Get over it already. That's why we wanted to be cops, remember? We wanted to catch the bad guys and make a difference. Besides, no one's going to believe that some strange guy magically appeared to save the day.”

Lara set down her fork. “You believe me, don't you?”

LaToya's brown eyes softened, and she reached forward to touch Lara's hand. “I do. I watched you in the hospital when you struggled to learn how to read and write again. I was with you when we both struggled through classes at LSU. And I survived the academy with you. I know you're not going to lie to me, no matter how strange it sounds.”