Welcome to the Neighborhood (11 page)

“Thank you, Phillip,” she said, although she wasn’t quite sure why she was thanking him.

“No need to show me out. I can find the way.” He walked past her and left without a pause, taking his cold aura with him.

She twisted to face the blue-eyed werewolf. “Do you really believe the police can help?”

“I’ll make sure they find your safe and the thieves get punished, either in a court of law or by the pack.”

Greg’s firm voice gave her confidence she’d made the right choice. She didn’t care if a court or pack punished them. She simply wanted her safe. Moreover, all the contents returned.

“All right. As my lawyer, I will trust you.”

“Do you want to call, or shall I?”

“You call.”

Greg withdrew his phone from his pocket and tapped the screen. “You might want to change into some clothes. They’ll probably send someone out to investigate and take your statement.”

Alexi’s body ached and she craved nourishment, not a sit down with police. Since she didn’t have much of a choice, she agreed with a nod.

Corey moved away from the crime scene and stopped at her side. “He’s a real good lawyer, and he knows how to talk to people.” He kept his voice low while Greg spoke on the phone. “He’s very good at demanding action. Don’t worry, he’ll locate the movers who stole your safe and get it returned to you.”

Corey’s confidence reassured her she’d made the right decision to accept Greg’s help, but trepidation still slipped into her head. Would the cops help her once they knew she was a vampire?

“I’m going back to my house. If you or Greg need anything, call me.”

“Thank you for driving my car back.”

“Sure. Glad to help a neighbor.” He lifted his hand to Greg. Still holding the phone to his ear and talking, Greg waved back. Alexi followed Corey out of the room. When he stopped abruptly, she almost bumped into him.

“I can tape a board over that hole in your patio door, if you want.”

“That would be nice. I doubt anyone will come out this late to fix it.”

“Tomorrow, I can call–”

“Don’t worry about it,” she said, wanting to avoid another debt to a man. “I’ll contact someone in the morning to fix it.”

His eyes twitched as he looked at her curiously. “Okay. I’ll cover it for you.”

Alexi waited until he disappeared from the top of the stairs, then she strolled down the hall while Greg carried on with his conversation with the police. He spoke louder than normal and repeated his words. Perhaps the person on the other end of the line couldn’t hear him. As she threaded her fingers into her hair she prayed she’d made the right choice in reporting the theft to the police.

In her bedroom, she slipped Greg’s shirt off her shoulders and tossed it on the bed. She walked into the closet pondering what clothes to wear. From the drawers, she took a pair of jeans and a black sweater. She groaned softly while she dressed as her entire body ached from every little movement. Once dressed, she’d hoped she would feel warmer, but she didn’t. Her lower than normal temperature along with the recent stress of moving and theft of her safe, oh, and the tumble down the stairs all contributed to her dehydration. Her body had consumed a large amount of blood in an effort to heal her. She desperately needed more. If she waited too long, she might have to snack on Greg.

No
. She walked from the closet with renewed determination not to take blood from Greg. She would resist his strong and healthy body. She would ignore his warmth and scent of rich blood, though she craved both. No more debts.

As she passed in front of the bed, heading for her dresser, Greg stepped into the room.

“They should be here in about fifteen minutes,” he said.

“Your shirt is on the bed. I think it might have a few spots of blood on it. I’ll buy you a new one soon.”

Holding her hair in a ponytail, she stopped at her dresser and searched through the makeup, jewelry, lotion bottles and other bathroom items for a band to hold her hair back. A gasp accidently escaped her when she noticed her vibrator.

“Shit!”

“What’s wrong?” Greg came to stand beside her and the mechanical device. He’d donned the shirt she’d worn and was buttoning it.

She looked up at him and felt a rush of heat to her cheeks. “Nothing. Nothing at all. Why don’t you wait upstairs? I’ll be there in a minute.” Her words were short and fast. God, she hoped he hadn’t noticed.

“Are you okay? You’re…flush.” A grin spread across his face.

“I’m fine.” She quickly searched through the mess on her dresser. “I’ll be upstairs in minute.”

She spotted a hair band and she snatched it she saw Greg looked down. His line of sight pointed to the vibrator.

“Can you go now, please?” She grabbed his arm and nudged him to move.

He reluctantly moved. “All right. I’m going.”

Alexi watched him leave as she twisted the band in her hair until it held all strands from her face. She berated herself after he left. It seemed silly, considering his tongue had stroked her clit not long ago. Nonetheless, she couldn’t help but feel mortified. She didn’t want him to get the wrong ideas about her.
Too late for that
. What did it matter anyway? He acted as if he wanted to have sex with her. Being the strong woman that she was, she could give him what he wanted in exchange for his help. When her safe was home and the deal done, she’d try to forget everything. Try, or move again.

She opened one the drawers and pushed the vibrator and other items inside. She sure as hell didn’t want the cops or anyone else to see her vibrator.

A grim feeling stirred in her gut as she headed for the door. Her nightmare began when she moved to Midnight Gardens. Would it ever get better? And had she made the right decision to trust Greg? He seemed genuinely willing to help her, but she was in a weakened condition. She could’ve let her guard down. Maybe. With certainty, moving to paranormal suburbia had not turned out the way she had thought it would. If her situation didn’t improve soon, she’d have to find a new home.

10

Greg stood upstairs while he finished tucking his shirt in his pants, then sat on the sofa. More framed artwork leaned against the walls. Flattened boxes stacked in a pile took up most of the space in the center of the living room. The strong scent of the cardboard made his nose twitch. If the irritating smell bothered him, surely it had to be nuisance for Alexi. He’d find a way to remove them from her home as soon as he could.

He bent over his knees and hid his face in his hands. A variety of emotions bubbled inside of him, each one waiting to burst free. The first and foremost being sympathy. Every time he looked at Alexi, he wanted to wrap his arms around her, kiss her and whisper in her ear how much he cared about her. She looked deathly ill and would get worse unless she drank blood. He had offered and she refused, as usual. As soon as the cops left, he’d have to find a way to convince her to take nourishment from him.

The soft tap of footsteps moved closer. He lifted his head and straightened while he looked over his shoulder. Alexi stepped into the room, hobbling slightly. Evident from her pressed lips and the strain on her face her knee still caused her pain. The darkness under her eyes made her pallor more noticeable. She didn’t look well. He jumped to his feet and rushed toward her.

“I’ll be fine,” she said, sounding strong and in control as always.

“You’re not fine. I can see you are in pain with each step you take. You’re as white as the walls and the mark on your forehead hasn’t changed. I wish you would let me help you.”

She stopped near the sofa. “You’ve helped me enough already.”

“I’ve done nothing but bring you home and clean the blood from your face.”

“You gave me the shirt off your back.”

“You’re clothes were ruined. Any man would’ve done the same.”

“You helped me after I fell down the stairs.”

“I moved you to the sofa. Again, anyone would’ve done the same.”

“You’re going to help with the cops.”

He blew out a frustrated breath. Why was she arguing? Why was he? “Okay, but you need blood. Soon.”

“I’ll go out after they leave. It’s not even two yet. If they don’t stay long, I’ll have several hours to find a donor.”

Blood rushed to his temples and he felt his head throb. Find someone? What about him?

“I offered–”

She pressed her hand on his chest. Even through the thin fabric, he felt her cold touch. “I know. I know. And I appreciate it, but I can’t.”

“Why? Have you got something against werewolves?”

“No.” She shook her head. “God, no.”

“Then why won’t you take what I have to offer?”

She lowered her gaze and brought her lips together. Something troubled her, but she wouldn’t share. Why?

He lifted her chin. “I won’t hurt you, Alexi. Ever.”

Her eyes began to fill with tears. She jerked away from him. “Please, just let me be.”

Pain stabbed his heart upon hearing another rejection. No, not just another, but one telling him to leave her alone. It was almost as bad as telling him to go and never return. He stared at her as she blinked, trying to fight the tears from escaping. God, what had happened to her? Had someone hurt her so badly she wouldn’t accept anyone’s help?

A knock at the door claimed his attention.

“Westport Police,” said a man outside.

“I’ll get it.” Greg took a step back and stopped. “You might want to let me do the talking. Most people still don’t believe we exist. I’m an honest person, but sometimes it’s better to leave out a few details, like what we are unless it’s necessary.”

“You’re the lawyer,” she said, her fatigued eyes full of worry.

Hearing another knock, Greg dashed toward the door. He turned the knob and stepped aside as he granted them entrance. “Please, come in.”

Two uniformed officers, both male and sporting a large gut, stepped inside. Their clothes were as dark as the night, almost hiding the pouches on their belts and the devices attached to their shoulders. Both had short hair and were clean-cut-looking men. They stopped in the entryway.

“Are you the owner of the home, sir?” asked the shorter cop with a mustache.

Greg closed the door. “No, I’m not. The owner is Alexandria Cartwright.” He extended his arm toward her. She sat in the recliner to the side of the sofa. “I’m her lawyer, Gregory Holmes.”

“May we talk to your client?” the large policeman asked.

“Of course.”

Greg headed toward Alexi with a smile on his face. She looked so frail and weak. She sat with her legs crossed and hands clasped in her lap. The cops would notice and probably ask about her health.

“Ma’am, are you well?” the short cop asked, right on cue.

“I apologize for my appearance. I’m feeling under the weather after everything that’s happened.”

“Are you Alexandria Cartwright?” the taller cop asked.

“I am.” She reached out and extended her arm toward the sofa. “Please, have a seat.”

The taller cop led his partner around the pile of boxes while Greg took the opposite route, heading for Alexi. The tall one sat on the middle cushion of the sofa and the short policeman remained standing. Greg came to a halt at Alexi’s side and crossed his arms.

“Ms. Cartwright, may I ask what your age is?” the tall cop inquired as he scooted to the edge of the sofa cushion.

She hesitated. “I’m nineteen.”

The officers exchanged glances, probably thinking the same thing Greg was. She was young, not even old enough to drink legally.

“My client’s age should have nothing to do with the crime that has been committed. If you question the ownership of the house, my client can provide you with proof.”

The short policeman slid his hands into his pockets. “At this time, that won’t be necessary.”

“Did you recently move in?” the taller cop asked.

“Yes, last night.”

“You moved in at night?” the other policeman asked.

“Yes.”

The tall cop twisted to face his partner and withdrew a small pad of paper from his chest pocket. “I heard they had moving companies that now specialize in night moves.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yeah, I saw a commercial on television.” He straightened and pulled out a pen from a pouch on his belt.

“If there’s money to be made, I guess it’s not a bad idea.” The cop with the mustache turned to Alexi. “Our receptionist said you believe the movers might have stolen from you. Is that right?”

“Yes. I actually met them yesterday when Alexi was moving in,” Greg said.

“Alexi?” The taller cop looked at her.

“Yes, I go by Alexi.”

“The movers had broken an antique mirror of hers and the second van containing her safe had detoured.”

“They had GPS and I gave them the specific address. They ended up in Ohio. There’s no Westport in Ohio,” Alexi said.

“Uh, yeah, that sounds made up,” said the short cop.

The other policeman jotted on the notepad. “Did the movers ever show up with your safe?”

“Yes, they did eventually. After they unloaded everything, I asked for their names and the names of their superiors.”

“We’ll need the names and numbers,” the short cop with the mustache said.

Greg met his gaze. “I’ll make sure you get them.”

The tall policeman looked up from his pad. “Okay, so you moved in with your safe. When did you notice it was missing?”

“Our neighborhood had a Welcoming party that started at eleven. We came back early and noticed the door was unlocked,” Greg explained.

“You were at the party too?” the short cop asked.

“Yes.”

“And you live in the neighborhood?” The tall policeman stared at Greg with curious eyes.

“Yes, I do.” He held back saying he lived next door. No need to go into details unless they asked, which he hoped they wouldn’t.

The tall policeman turned to Alexi. “And he’s your lawyer?”

“Yes,” she replied. “I’m fortunate enough that he lives in the same neighborhood. Very convenient.”

The two men stayed silent for a brief moment. Greg glanced at Alexi. Her bony fingers and dark veins showing vibrantly from her pale skin indicated severe dehydration. She needed blood soon.