Chapter Seven
When Rey walked into the kitchen the next afternoon, Con was already dressed, coffee was brewing, and food was cooking. She glanced at her watch while maintaining a professional distance.
Yay her!
Given her late hours at work, she usually started midday with just toast and a cup of dark roast. His back was to her, a skillet on the stove while he stirred something.
He added its contents to the eggs already on the plates.
Fried potatoes. Whoa. She could get used to this. “You were waiting for me?”
“Heard you moving around.”
“Sorry. I tried to be quiet.”
He tapped an ear.
“Right. Wolf.”
Their lunch or late brunch passed in uncomfortable conversation. Rey did most of the talking, babbling again about the day ahead, warning about how Con should behave, which he responded to with a grin.
Rey’d had a talk with herself when she woke.
She refused to be embarrassed about the incident in the club.
Con had explained about the pheromones. Wasn’t her fault.
Wasn’t his. They just needed to work together.
Screwing her partner, even a temporary one, wasn’t the best approach for a good working relationship.
But reality was different from self-talk. She was pheromone-free now, and Con was still a powerful magnet.
Their clean-up passed in silence. As hard as she tried, she could barely look him in the eye.
Con did reveal an interesting tidbit as he arranged their plates in the dishwasher. “Mages are sneaky. They could cast a spell to mimic a shifter or vamp attack. I’ll be checking Mordy’s alibi. About last night...”
“Do. Not. Go. There.” She held up a hand, palm out. “Nothing to discuss. Over and done with. Let’s just do our jobs.”
Con gave her that wolfy grin that made her want to slap his face for what he was thinking.
She didn’t mind coming on to a guy, but she wasn’t an exhibitionist. Sex in public wasn’t a turn-on. If Laz hadn’t interrupted, she would have ridden Con hard in Blood Sport’s bullpen. She wasn’t proud of herself, even though she blamed the pheromones.
They left her apartment and took the subway to the OCFS building in the city. At the base of the skyscraper housing the offices, Con stared up to the top. “How do you survive in this mass of humanity?”
Rey’s gaze followed his. “Just fine, thank you.”
They rode up to the eighth floor and walked inside, pausing at the reception desk. Rey removed her credentials from her jacket pocket, flipping the holder open. “We need to speak to the director.”
The office worker yawned, giving them a bored stare. “May I ask what this is about?”
Con leaned over the counter on his forearms, offering her a seductive smile. “You may ask, dear, but we won’t be telling you. Lovely scarf, by the way. It lights up your eyes.”
She fingered the fabric around her throat and stammered, all dreamy-eyed, “Thank you. I’ll get him.”
Rey experienced a flash of unexpected jealousy. Ridiculous. She buried it.
The smitten receptionist returned, a rotund man in a wrinkled suit following her. “Good morning. How may I help you?”
“Reyna Todd.” She showed her identification again and wagged a thumb at Con. “This is Conall, my partner.” She didn’t bother to explain that he wasn’t with the department. “Can we talk to you in private?”
“Director Edgar Martin. Certainly.” He glanced at his watch as they followed him to a room off the corridor. It was small, barely space for his desk and two visitor chairs.
Rey had barely sat when she said, “George Sandoval has been murdered. We’re investigating the case.”
The director’s eyes widened with surprise.
“Oh, my. We tried to reach him at home when he didn’t show up for work Monday, yesterday, or this morning.
We were quite worried, and I just got off the phone with missing persons.
They took my report but didn’t say a word.
How? When? Do you know who killed him?” He stared at his hands, clasped together on the desk.
“Some of the kids he worked with will be devastated.”
Con leaned back in his chair. “Speaking of the kids, did any of them have a reason to dislike him?”
“No. No.” Edgar Martin shook his head as if he could get rid of the shock. “Besides, they are all young. Their ages range from eight to ten.”
“How about their parents?” asked Rey, her pad poised and ready.
His fingers tapped, tapped, tapped on the desk. “No. Everyone liked George.”
“Employees who didn’t like him?” she pursued.
He shook his head, his lips pressed tight.
“We’ll need the names of the families he dealt with.”
Edgar’s fingers tapped on the desk again. “That information is privileged.”
She smiled. “No problem. I’ll be back with the proper paperwork.”
Con backtracked to a more general question. “Tell us about George.”
Edgar’s hand stilled. “Always on time. Nice to everybody. His evaluations were excellent. He was dedicated to the job. Very professional.”
Rey glanced up from her notes. “Anybody here a close friend?”
He paused, the skin above his nose wrinkling as he thought about the answer. “No. He was a private person. Came and went on time, but no socializing outside work.”
“What do you know about his personal life?” Rey asked.
Edgar shrugged. “He wasn’t married. An ex. Lived alone. Now that I think of it, nothing. He didn’t talk about himself. Always asked questions. ‘How’s the family? What did you do this weekend?’ but he never volunteered about himself.”
Rey handed him a card as she rose. “We’ll be back to get those files.”
Con nodded, and they left with a request for Edgar to call if he thought of anything.
On the street, Con said, “You didn’t mention George’s extracurricular activities.”
“No. I wanted to see if he knew. Sounded as if he didn’t.
If he had, I would have wondered why he gave George a job dealing with kids.
Although, I guess being a vampire wannabe wouldn’t interfere with his work.
Anyway, can save that intel for later if we need to re-interview Edgar.
For now, George sounds like the ideal employee. ”
****
Their next stop in the early evening was George’s favorite drinking spot—The Gin Room. It was inside a well-known hotel chain, off the lobby. Con pushed through the doorway first.
He paused when he spied the bartender. “Well. Well. Well.” He glanced at Rey. “I’ll take the lead here.”
She frowned. “I’ll make that decision.”
Con slung an arm over her shoulder. She winced and tried to throw it off. “I know the barkeep. He’s a shifter.”
She stumbled, allowing his arm to stay put. “How do you know?”
“First, Aeternals have an aura others of our kind can read. Second, I know the guy.”
“Really? Good guy or bad guy?”
“Swings both ways. His companions can be nasty. Don’t know what he’s doing Earthside. Keep your credentials in your pocket. Understand?”
She nodded, staying put under his arm.
They sauntered up to the classy bar with its gold padded stools and rich mahogany wood finish.
“Worgan. How’s it hanging?” Con offered him a suspicious look, but no hand.
The bartender did a double-take, glancing toward a dark corner. Con couldn’t see in the shadows, but they hid two Aeternals. He didn’t plan to go wolf. Unless he needed to.
“Conall, what brings you here?”
“Little of this. A little of that. I suppose you have a license to hang out on Earth.”
The guy pointed to two framed documents behind him. One was a bartending license, and the other was a passage permit from Scath. “I’m the owner. It’s all legit.”
“Looks like licenses are getting easy to come by.” His gaze swung around The Gin Room. “This place had to cost you.”
“It did, but money well spent.”
“Yeah. I imagine. Where did you get the bucks?”
“Are the Firebrands looking into my business dealings? Cause they’re all legit.”
“Nah. Just curious why you came Earthside.” Con pulled Rey closer. She was tall enough to fit comfortably under his arm, but he felt her tense. She didn’t like playing girlfriend. He, on the other hand, was enjoying it.
Worgan extracted a glass from under the bar and polished it. “Bored. Thought a new environment would perk me up. Who’s the arm candy?”
Con had to hand it to the detective. She may not have liked role-playing, but when called on, the female could act. She stroked a hand down his chest, purring, “I’m his reason to visit New York. The name’s Rey.”
He set down the glass and leaned forward. “Rey, what’ll you have?”
“Hmm. What would be good?” She glanced at the drinks board. “I’ll go with the Mango Blueberry Gin Fizz.”
“You’ll love it. Very in season. Con?”
“A Guinness stout if you have one.”
Worgan busied himself getting their drinks while Con tried to see who was in the shadows. He still couldn’t tell. While he and Rey sat on the plush stools, he tugged her closer until they were thigh to thigh.
Her teeth ground together, but she smiled.
Despite the reason for being on Earth, Con was having fun. He leaned over and kissed her. When she frowned, he whispered, “Play along, love.”
She pinched his leg. Hard.
“I like an assertive female.”
Rey smirked.
Setting their drinks on fancy coasters on the bar, Worgan asked, “Anything else?”
“Answers,” said Con.
Worgan barely blinked, but Con caught the look. “A customer. I’ll be right back.” The bartender walked to a booth.
After fixing two drinks and serving them, Worgan returned. “Shoot.”
“Are you acquainted with George Sandoval?”
Worgan’s gaze flitted from Con to Rey. “Yeah. Why are the Firebrands interested?”
“We’re a nosy bunch. Say, who are the guys standing in the corner?”
“You don’t know them. Bouncers.”
“A classy place like this needs security?”
“Can’t be too safe. We attract Aeternals. The hotel contracts with Scath businesses. Big bucks. Anyway, some nights the patrons get too rowdy for a classy joint. The bouncers keep things quiet.”
“About George?” Con asked.
“I know him. He comes in almost every day after work. Does something with kids.” Worgan polished the mahogany bar with a cloth.
“Ever with anybody?”
“Nope. Always alone.”
“Are you aware of his little peccadillos?”
Worgan grinned, “You mean his vamp wannabe shit?”
Con nodded.
“Innocent stuff. Sometimes his hair would be slicked back, and he’d be wearing dark clothes and fangs. Everyone to his own, I say.” He slipped drink menus to two new customers.
“Did he realize you’re a shifter?”
“If he read the sign. Why the questions about George?”
“He got himself killed. Kinda messy. Throat ripped out and all.”
Worgan swallowed as if he had a big rock in his throat. “Sad. He didn’t seem like a bad sort.”
While Worgan tended to the new customers, Con twisted toward Rey, maneuvered her chin until she faced him, and kissed her. When she gasped, he slipped his tongue inside her mouth. He stroked and licked, wanting more but not pushing it.
Although she leaned toward him, moaning, when he withdrew, she slapped his arm and adjusted her jacket.
Despite her smack, he gave her a warm smile that pinkened her cheeks. Rey liked his lips more than she let on.
When the shifter returned, Con said, “My girlfriend and I think there might be others killed in the same way. What do you think?”
“I think I’m a bartender who minds his own business.”
“Love, give Worgan a card in case he wants to call us later.”
Rey broke loose from Con’s grasp, drew a card out of her pocket, and handed it to the bartender. All the while, her fierce, narrow-eyed glare was levied on him, but he shrugged as if a detective was no biggie. And who knows, Worgan may have pegged her as a cop from the start.
Without warning, Con jacked off the barstool and sped toward the shadowy corner. No one was there. It was empty. But he smelled wolf. A familiar scent, masked by a heavy dose of men’s cologne, but he couldn’t place it.
Shaking his head because he didn’t like puzzles, Con rejoined Rey. When he fisted his glass, he nearly shattered it.
“Problem?” she asked.
“Maybe.”
Rey swallowed a few sips of her drink, proclaiming she was returning when she wasn’t on the job. Con chugged his, seeing no reason not to imbibe. Hell. It might help his focus. They left.