Chapter 9 Cord
When there was no answer at his door yesterday, I let myself into the apartment and looked around.
Nothing to indicate he’s anything other than what he presents to the world–a wannabe stockbroker.
His taste kind of reminds me of a lower class Asher, all leather and steel.
There’s not much personality in the place, a couple of generic paintings on the wall and a few books on a shelf in the livingroom, mostly self-help bullshit.
What kind of vampire reads that crap? His closet is filled with off-the-rack suits and a few pairs of khakis and polos.
No clues left behind to point to this guy being a narcissistic serial killer.
And yeah, we have those, too. Vamps who can’t control their lust. They make it bad for the rest of us, especially people like me who have to clean up their mess.
Since I was already inside, I decided to stick around and wait for the loser, making myself at home in the only comfortable looking chair in the place. I might have dozed off a couple of times, but I’ve become pretty good at sleeping with one eye open. Not that it mattered.
Fruitless.
That’s what this whole night has been.
Not only did Smyth not show up, he caused me to go back on my promise to Luca to check out the guys kidnapping people in his neighborhood.
Yeah, Dante has men there, but they don’t know what they’re looking for.
For all I know, they’re in on it. Dante even admitted he doesn’t know everyone who works for him.
How would he know if some of those guys decided to go into business for themselves?
I stand up and grab my jacket, deciding I’ll head home to catch a nap before coming back in the afternoon. Hopefully I’ll catch the bastard at home this time.
My phone rings before I leave the apartment. Dante. Figures.
“I take it you’ve had no luck?”
“I spent the night at his place. He didn’t show. I’m going home to shower and catch a few winks. I’ll come back this afternoon.”
“We need to catch this guy.”
I bite my tongue; you think I don’t know that? “I told you, I’m on it.”
I hang up before I say something I’ll regret.
I ride down the elevator with a woman and her little fru fru dog, blatantly ignoring her self-righteous stares of disapproval. Get over it, lady.
She takes off like her hair is on fire when the elevator opens, and I half expect her to say something to the concierge, but apparently her dog really has to go. But that gives me an idea.
I stop at the desk and wait for the concierge’s attention. Luckily it’s a different man than the one who was here when I accompanied Asher the other night. If the man is surprised at my appearance so early in the morning, he schools his expression carefully when he asks, “Can I help you?”
“Maybe. I’m looking for someone who lives here.”
The street door opens again and I’m wondering if it’s the dog walker coming back to complain, so I ignore it and press ahead.
“Are you police?” the concierge asks.
I shrug; I can lie when it suits my purpose. “I’m a private investigator, and I really need to get in touch with Eduard Smyth. It’s a matter of vital importance.”
I’m aware of someone standing behind me, but I don’t turn around.
The concierge seems to consider that and comes to a conclusion. “Mr. Smyth hasn’t picked up his mail in a couple of days. Perhaps he’s out of town.” He looks past me to the person standing behind me and smiles. “May I help you, Mr. Winston?”
Fuck.
“Actually,” comes Asher’s smooth voice, “I was hoping to speak to this gentleman.”
I turn around and face him, and all that pent-up frustration comes surging to the forefront. See this is why I need to avoid him. I can’t come within ten feet of him without wanting to touch him. I squeeze my hands into fists and take a deep breath.
Something seems different about him. He doesn’t look like his usual immaculate self. In fact, if I had to guess, I’d say he slept in his clothes. He looks about as alert as I feel.
I step away from the desk so as not to be overheard. “What do you want, Asher?”
“You look tired. Pull an all-nighter?”
Oh no. I am not falling for that concerned act. “Not that it’s any of your business.”
“Maybe I can help. I do live here.”
“Do you know everyone who lives in this building?”
“Well, no…”
“Then I doubt you can help.”
He takes a step closer and lowers his voice, his eyes capturing mine. “As I recall, I used to help you quite a bit.”
I sigh and rub my eyes. I really don’t have the bandwidth to deal with this right now. “Let’s just get this over with. What do you really want?”
His smile doesn’t reach his eyes. In fact, there’s a helplessness there that looks completely out of place with his usual smug confidence.
“Do you hate me that much?” he asks softly.
Now I feel like a dick. “No, I don’t hate you. I just…I don’t want to fall back into the same pattern.”
“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you. I don’t either. Please, Cord, give me a chance.”
It’s the “please” that does it. I’ve never heard Asher use that word before. At least, not with me. Still, I’m not ready to put the past behind me.
“I have to go home and get some sleep.”
He offers a lopsided grin. “I kind of need some sleep, too. I’ve been up all night.”
“Doing what?” I ask despite myself.
“Waiting for you by your car.”
“You…waited by my car?”
He nods. “All night. I couldn’t think of any other way to talk to you.”
Oh, I really don’t need this right now. “Look, I’m trying to stop a serial killer. I don’t have time to get into whatever this is between us.”
“Whatever this is?” He sucks in a breath and holds my gaze, and I can’t stand the pain I see in his eyes. “Fine, go catch your serial killer.” I start to turn away when he adds, “But Cord…” I look back. “I’m not going away.”
As I head for the door, I could swear I hear a whispered, “I still love you.”
Maybe it’s just my imagination.