16. Sixteen
Sixteen
W here were they hiding the money?
Ryker sat back in his chair, stared up at the ceiling of his home office, and allowed himself a hiss of sheer frustration. He should have found the paper trail by now. He’d gone through so many financial records in the last twenty hours, simple math was beginning to make his head hurt.
He returned his gaze to his laptop screen and clicked the minimized window to look at his email. Sure enough, here was one from Detective Gene Kim, checking in and hoping for progress. Ryker responded that he hadn’t found the evidence they needed yet but was still searching. He hissed again as he hit Send.
He should have found it by now. The giveaway document, the manipulated math, the mysteriously appeared or disappeared cash. But so far, this organization checked out. To the penny. And he’d nearly worked his way through to the final document secured in Detective Kim’s search warrant.
Nearly. Not done yet.
He had to find it before six o’clock. He couldn’t leave any later than that to pick up his girlfriend from the airport.
Ryker’s heart gave a single beat of anticipation. His girlfriend. Here in his city in a few hours. He couldn’t wait to show her his favorite places, introduce her to the people he loved. To hold her again, kiss her again, of course. But even more than that, simply to enjoy being with her again.
Enough. Focus. Complete the task. The airport pickup was his reward.
He opened a new set of bookkeeping records and got back to work. Careful reading. Mental math. He kept a calculator on his desk, but he almost never needed it even with the longest strings of figures. And note-taking. Constant, copious note-taking on his yellow legal pad, for which most of his colleagues loved to call him “old-fashioned.” But for the son of Senna Maddox, written work was a deeply ingrained habit.
He pressed his thumb against one eye. How did he keep doing this to himself? In preparation for Leslie’s weekend visit, he’d planned to sleep last night. But he had worked through the night instead. This case had higher stakes than his last one as well as more convoluted paper trails, but Leslie had cared about none of that when he’d confessed this morning. She had cared only about him.
And thanks to her, he could no longer convince himself he wasn’t tired.
“But I don’t need a break,” he said to his quiet condo. “I’m fine.”
He kept at it for another half hour. Notes. Math. Cross-references. Looking back over data he’d already checked, just to be one-hundred-percent sure—
“Wait a minute.”
The words burst from his mouth as he checked his math against the bookkeeping numbers in front of him. He did the math again.
“That’s it,” he whispered. Then he tilted back in his chair again and shouted at the ceiling. “That’s it!”
Notes. Cross-references. He checked everything a final time, and then he picked up his phone.
“Kim here.”
“Detective, it’s Ryker Maddox. I’ve got what you need.”
The detective’s intake of breath was a little sharp, unguarded. Everyone working this case was wearing thin. “Talk to me.”
Ryker filled him in on the numbers, where the money had been funneled and how. “And two of these documents have Angstrom’s name on them. He just lost his deniability.”
“Maddox, are you sure? Really sure?”
“Sure enough to go to court, sir.”
“You’ve made my month. Maybe my year.”
That might not be an overstatement. The organization they’d been tracking had been defrauding people out of supposed insurance payments for years, and the financial damages were high. Families with ill young kids were a primary target, promised bundled deals that only stole more.
“We did it,” Ryker said. He couldn’t hold back a grin.
“Well, as far as this part goes, you did it, man. I knew you’d find it, if anybody could. Thanks.”
“My pleasure.”
“I know it’s past six, but if you can send me that stuff tonight, I’d really appreciate it. Unless you’re at the end of your vampire reserves or whatever.”
“Does that sound like me?”
“No, but this puny human still can’t figure out when you rest, so I didn’t want to assume you don’t need to.”
He almost laughed as his mind conjured an image of Leslie overhearing that and glaring at him. “I’ll get everything over to you in a few minutes.”
“Great. Thank you, Maddox.”
“You’re welcome, Detective.”
The call ended, and Ryker allowed his eyes to close for a moment. Then the conversation replayed in his weary brain, and he sprang out of his chair. After six? No. No. No.
He had to finish the job. He worked as quickly as he could without missing anything. Passcode-protect the documents, attach to his secure email, send to Detective Kim’s work email. Send separate email containing the passcode. There. Done for the night.
It was 6:26. On Leslie’s first visit, she’d have to wait at the airport. He speed-typed a text.
On my way. So sorry. Was working and lost track of time. ETA 7:45.
Her plane hadn’t landed yet, so she’d see his text later. Ryker darted out of the house to his car and did his best not to break any speed limits for the next hour and twenty minutes. He was entering the pickup loop when his phone vibrated in the console cup holder. As soon as he pulled into the arrivals lane, he snatched it up and tapped the new text message.
Leslie: No worries. Headwinds delayed us a bit, so I only just got my luggage. Heading outside now.
Ryker’s tense shoulders lowered a few inches.
Leslie: I’m standing in front of a pillar painted with a pink 4.
She was easy to spot, radiating the vampire aura—chilled vitality and muted power—that his kind could spot in one another from half a mile away. Humans double-glanced at her as they passed, though Leslie seemed unaware of their notice. Her silver hair was loose and full, dipping around her shoulders and falling down her back. Her hard-shell carryon was white, covered in a pink-and-purple floral print.
Ryker pulled his car into one of the parallel spots, and Leslie hurried to him. She tossed her luggage into the back seat, then hopped into the front. As Ryker pulled into traffic, she said, “So much exhaust.”
“Yeah, it can be a lot sometimes.”
“I still smelled you though. I wasn’t sure I’d be able to.”
They were quiet a minute as he navigated back to the highway. After he merged on, Leslie turned to grin at him.
“Hi, boyfriend.”
He chuckled. “Nice to see you, girlfriend.”
“I feel like I should mention again— I’m totally fine getting a hotel room overnight while you sleep. Your parents don’t need to put themselves out for me.”
“Oh, don’t underestimate Senna Maddox. She wants a chance to approve of you. And she probably also wants to tell you at least one story of me as a toddler.”
Leslie’s laughter pealed. “It’s only fair.”
He rolled his eyes, but his grin matched hers. “Parents.”
“Here’s hoping yours like me as much as mine like you.”
“No reason they shouldn’t,” he said. “How was the flight?”
Leslie shrugged. “Close quarters with a whole lot of humans, and a few of them were sweating nervously, so…” She wrinkled her nose. “But overall it was fine. Uneventful.”
“Good. How’s the mill wheel coming?”
“I took some pictures to show you, right before I left. From the right angle, it looks like a real water wheel. It’s super cool.”
Ryker could listen to her talk about her art for hours, especially when she talked about it in terms that valued the beauty she added to the world. She’d been working tirelessly on her new diorama, inspired by the success of the waterfall to create more models with the illusion of moving water.
She pulled her phone from her purse, tapped out a few texts, then tucked it away again. “Sorry. I promised to text both Mom and Hannah when you had picked me up. Mom’s just doing the mom thing, but Hannah wants regular updates.”
“One of these days, she and Jake should come with you. We could do a weekend of double dates all over the city.”
Leslie clasped her hands in front of her as if in petition. “I would love that, and so would they.”
Ryker had met Hannah and Jake twice so far—once at the diner, once at the coffee shop. Hanging out socially with humans felt a little strange at first, but he was more than game to get to know them better.
As he drove, Leslie poked his shoulder. “How’s the Biggest Case of the Year?”
“I cracked it about ten minutes before I headed for the airport. That’s why I left the house late.”
“Oh, Ryker, that’s amazing. Congratulations. I knew you’d solve it.”
“Apparently Detective Kim knew too. I was the only one worried.”
She reached across the console and gave his shoulder an encouraging squeeze. Come to think of it, his shoulders were tightening up again. But he wasn’t anxious anymore. He’d reached Leslie right on time. So why did he feel so…off?
As if in response to his silent question, an ache seized the back of his throat. One moment he didn’t feel it at all. The next it was unbearable. His right hand clung to the wheel as his left hand latched onto his throat.
“Crap,” he said.
“What’s wrong?”
“Got sidetracked. Forgot to slake. And then I was in a hurry picking you up, so I forgot again. Just ran to my car and started driving.”
Leslie’s eyes were wide and unblinking. Her body was entirely still. She whispered, “How many hours?”
He fought to clear his head, but the thirst was attacking him now. “Uh. Twenty-eight.”
“It’s an hour back to your house.”
“Uh-huh.” He tried to swallow, work the muscles that were seizing in the back of his throat, and the ache sharpened.
“Isn’t it at least that far to your parents?”
“Hour and twenty minutes.”
“Can you make it another hour without blood?”
“I won’t shrivel to dust.” But he was growing hoarse already, and his throat was at least trying to close up and kill him.
“Blood bar,” she said. “Is there one between here and your house?”
He nodded.
“Oh good. Stop there then.”
She’d introduced him to diner breakfasts; he’d wanted to introduce her to the blood bar. He hissed.
“Do you need me to drive?”
“No. I just didn’t want…this. An emergency. Not how I wanted to show you one of my official tour stops.”
“I think that’s way down the priority list at this point. Let’s just get you what you need, okay?”
He clamped his lips and gritted his teeth.
“Are we close?” Leslie said.
He nodded and held up one hand, fingers splayed.
“Five minutes?”
Another nod.
“Your eyes are full silver. Are your fangs down?”
“No,” he snapped.
“Okay. Just checking.”
“I’m fine.” Other than sounding like a human with laryngitis. “I’ve never— That’s never happened to me.”
“Me either, but it happened to my dad once. Story for another time.”
How could she be so blasé about something so humiliating? He shook his head, but of course his mind didn’t clear. Wouldn’t clear until his need for blood had been dealt with.
This was absolutely not how the evening was supposed to go.
Minutes later he turned in to the parking lot of Slake It Off, and Leslie gave a surprised little gasp.
“It’s out in the open. I mean, don’t humans driving by know slake is one of our words?”
He nodded, beyond talking now.
Leslie glanced at him, then gave him a second, softer look. She twined her fingers with his and gave a gentle tug. “Come on. Let’s take care of you.”
He squeezed her hand tightly, and she squeezed back, and then they went inside. The smell of the place hit him so hard, his fangs pressed his gums for a moment as his mouth watered. His brain was overrun with a single word that blared in his head like a siren— thirst thirst thirst thirst —and Leslie’s reaction didn’t help. Her nostrils flared, and she went still for a moment.
“Wow,” she whispered.
He tugged her hand, and Leslie let him take the lead straight to the bar.
Behind the counter stood one of his favorite people, and Ryker silently thanked the universe it was her. Claire beelined to him, knowing from his silver eyes or from knowing him too well.
“Got distracted?” she said.
Ryker nodded.
“No worries, I’ve got you.”
She went to the row of fridges against the far wall and opened a blood bag. At the breaking of the seal, Ryker took hold of the edge of the counter. Better not to spring over it and snatch the bag from Claire’s hand. She poured the contents into a wine glass—flawlessly, artfully out of habit. Leslie watched with wide eyes as Claire set the brimming glass in front of Ryker.
Then the glass was at his lips, and he was gulping, gulping, gulping. His gums ached momentarily as his fangs descended. The familiar salty tang filled his mouth, and his throat opened, and his entire body relaxed as the thirst began to fade. He couldn’t hold in the low groan of relief. When the glass was drained, he set it on the bar and tried to hide how his hand was shaking.
“Ryker?” Leslie said.
Shoot. She’d seen. He held out his hand, and she took it between hers as if she could will the trembling away. “I’m okay. The shaking stops within a minute or two.”
“You’ve done this to yourself often.”
“A few times,” he said, then turned to Claire, who watched him with real care despite the perpetual frost in her eyes. “Thanks, Claire.”
“Sure. I wish you’d quit this habit though.”
“No reason to have that conversation again.”
“Fine. I’d rather meet your girlfriend anyway.” She turned her focus to Leslie. “Claire Vanderlaan. I’m glad to meet you, Leslie. It’s about time Ryker dated a good woman.”
Leslie blinked. “Um, thanks.”
“Claire,” Ryker said.
“I said what I said.”
Ryker shook his head. Leslie’s silver eyebrows were inching farther upward every second, but he wasn’t getting into this now. Yeah, he’d been meaning to talk to her about Jacqueline, but… not yet. Claire gave him her signature barbed-wire look, then offered Leslie a smile.
“Can I get you anything, Leslie?”
“Oh, um, not right now, thanks. And it’s nice to meet you too.”
“Ryker says you’re from Tennessee, specifically Harmony Ridge.”
Leslie blinked. “Don’t tell me you’ve heard of it. The world can’t be that small.”
“Do you know Ember Reed?”
“Not well, given she’s a wolf’s mate, but we’ve met, sure. She seems cool. But how do you know her?”
“I’ve known Ember since grade school. She was a lifelong Virginian until she fell for that pesky wolf.”
Ryker suddenly remembered the petite human woman with frank gray eyes whom he’d met once or twice in Claire’s company. “Wait. You didn’t tell me Ember moved to Harmony Ridge.”
Claire shrugged. “I didn’t think to. Y’all don’t know each other well enough for you to track her down while you were there. But yes, my now-long-distance best friend happens to live in your town, Leslie.”
“The wolves would call that fate,” Leslie said with a laugh.
Ryker laughed too, and his girlfriend seemed startled. “What?”
“Not having to hide that your fangs are down. I was taught to slake in private.”
“Even away from your parents?”
“Oh, no, I’ve seen their fangs plenty of times. But home is the only place I’ve ever…”
She looked around the room, and Ryker followed her gaze, tried to see it all through her eyes, new and surprising. On the far side from the bar were the privacy booths with their transparent sound-blocking partitions. Between here and there, the wood floor was spread with rugs to dampen harsh echoes. The tables and chairs were standard as far as bar furnishings went, but the high ceiling was hung with soft draperies, another method of deadening acoustics that could cause the most sensitive of vampires to wince. The thermostat was set at eighty, and humidifiers added to the pleasantly designed climate.
All around them, vampires moved with quicksilver strides, spoke in tones like melodies, sipped from drinks and showed their fangs. The eyes of everyone in the room reflected light like jewels—everyone but Leslie. Ryker understood, or at least he tried to. Wearing the muted version of herself was more than habit; it was long ingrained, almost a survival skill. He hoped she’d soon see how free she was here. Free to be herself.
“Well?” he said. “First impressions?”
“I think I love it here,” she said.
He grinned some more, fangs and all. Mission accomplished.