Chapter Fourteen
“So, you’re not looking for a mate,” said Rey, starting the car the next day.
She glanced over her shoulder to pull out of the underground self-parking garage at the resort.
She’d contacted George’s half-brother and scheduled an interview with him at his house in twenty minutes, giving him no information on the reason for the visit.
“No. Hell, no. I’ve lived this long without one.”
“How old are you?”
“Older than middle-aged for a wolf shifter.”
“What would that be in people years?”
“Funny. Two hundred and fifty-two.”
“Wow! You don’t look a day over two hundred and forty. How long do your kind live?”
“Three hundred. Maybe more.”
“That’s a long time,” she observed.
“I know it’s rude to ask a female, but how old are you?”
“It’s just a number. It doesn’t bother me. I’m thirty-four.”
“So you’re middle-aged, too.”
She took her eyes off the road to glare at him. “I am not. Early thirties is young.”
“Right. Besides, it’s just a number.” He plastered a stupid-ass grin on his face.
“Back to the whole mate thing. Why are you scared of commitment? No divorce for wolves?”
He shook his head. “No divorce for mates. You’re bonded for life. Tied. Chained. Tamed. Neutered.”
“I can see the problem. Sounds terrible. No biting. Definitely no biting.” Rey was glad to be on the same page as Con.
Before she was sent to the group home with Chiara, she was raised by a cop.
Her mother died when Rey was a toddler, leaving her alone with a man who brought his tough job home with him.
No brothers or sisters to spread the attention, she was his focus.
He wasn’t mean. He was just determined to turn her into another him. Strict. Demanding. Unloving.
When he was killed in the line of duty, she was left with only his shield. As an adult, she joined the force and eventually became a detective—all before she turned thirty-four. So she agreed with Con. No chains. No man demanding how she should live.
She glanced at Con. But if she did want the chains ... No.
Rey slowed the car and turned onto a residential street. Big front lawns. Stately houses. Long driveways.
Con pointed to a yellow two-story clapboard. “There. Nice place. What’s he do for a living?”
“Real estate.”
“Must be good at it.”
They parked in the long driveway and took the cobblestone walkway to the door.
Their ring was answered by a woman who was wiping her hands on an apron. “Come in. You’re expected.”
She led them into a sitting room that looked out over a pool and gardens behind the house. Rey sat beside Con on the sofa. “I think he does very well.” She stroked the plush, yellow-flowered cushions.
She and Con rose to their feet when a tall, slim man came into the room, his hand outstretched. “Anton Lasky.”
Rey introduced herself and Con, showing her badge.
“Manhattan,” he said.
Rey studied his face. Solemn but serene. “Yes. I’m sorry to tell you this, sir, but your half-brother George is dead.”
The man’s shoulders sank, his posture speaking of grief.
He hadn’t known. His lips parted with a gasp.
“How? Your badge says homicide. So I assume he was killed. George and I talked on the phone, maybe once a month. On occasion, we visited one another. Though we only met once as children, we reacquainted as adults.”
Rey heard Con sniff the air. He stiffened beside her. He said, “You’re half-brothers. Do you share a mother or father?”
“Mother. Ours never married my father. She left him and married George’s father.”
Con leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Your father raised you?”
Anton nodded, staring at Con.
“Where is he now?”
“He’s in Scath.”
Rey twisted toward Con.
Surprise.
Con pursued the interview. “You’re half vampire. How are your urges? Some mixed breeds have none.”
“I am not so fortunate, though my needs are not as great as my father’s.”
“How do you satisfy them?” Rey busied herself with notetaking.
“I stock a supply from a local blood bank.” He smiled, his fangs hardly noticeable. “And the occasional willing lady friend.”
“Are you licensed to stay on Earth?” Rey was unsure of the rules, but she’d heard Con ask others the question.
Con answered. “Not necessary for a mixed breed.”
Rey cleared her throat and consulted her electronic pad. “Tell us about George and Mommy’s visit.” Even though Anton had not mentioned Mommy or a recent visit with his half-brother, she figured it was best to act as if she knew one had taken place.
Anton sighed. “That’s the last time I saw him. I think you need some background. George was troubled.”
“How?” asked Con.
“Even though we met only once as children, he was eager to connect as adults. He looked up to me as his big brother. I suppose he wanted to be like me.” Anton paused.
“In every way. Of course, he couldn’t, but he became obsessed with everything vampire.
I tried to get him to understand that what he wanted was impossible. He was human.” He stared at Con.
“So what happened when he brought Mommy for a visit?”
“Simply put, we shared her. She wanted my bite. I obliged.”
Rey bounced around how best to reveal the next bit of information. She decided to go for the direct approach to see how he reacted. “We think a vampire or predatory shifter may have killed your brother.”
“What? Why?”
“His neck was torn open,” said Con.
Anton’s head dropped into his hands. “How awful for George. Was he drained of blood?”
Con settled into the sofa cushions. “No. That’s why I suspect shifter or a crazy Earther with a knife. But it coulda been a vamp with some restraint.”
When Anton looked up, he said, “You don’t suspect me, do you? I liked George. I tried to set him straight. I’d never harm him.”
“What were you doing Saturday night?” Con crossed an ankle over his knee.
Anton combed his fingers through his hair. “I was at a dinner. A recognition banquet for local realtors. I accepted an award. Easy to check.”
“Mommy was also killed. Same way. Two nights ago.”
“I was home then. Watching the Giants play. No witnesses. Sorry to hear about Mommy. She was harmless, though, in her own way, as disturbed as George.”
“Do you know of anyone who might want to kill them?”
“No. And I don’t hang out with anybody from Scath.
Other than my father, I do not know anyone there.
Wait. There’s a bar in town where I took George once.
Let me think. The Tooth and Claw Pub. The bartender’s a warlock.
Some of the patrons and employees are from Scath. I haven’t been there recently.”
Rey glanced at Con. So George and Ivan had both gone to the same bar in town. Coincidence? Maybe. Maybe not.
She was eager to get the list of bouncers promised by the owner of the Tooth and Claw.
During the car ride back to the resort, Con threw his arm over her seat back, his huge hand touching her shoulder, stroking it.
Strange how his touch warmed her, made her long for the impossible.
They were too different. Besides, he’d been clear.
No commitment. Just a series of one-night stands until he returned to Scath.
Was that enough for Rey? It had to be. Besides, she’d only known Con for a few days. “So, he seems to be sincere.” She broke the silence.