The Redemption of Boaz Pritchard Page 8

  The weight of curious eyes on my shoulders hunched them. “I hate you.”

  “Don’t be such a prude.” She wrapped an arm around my waist and tucked me against her side. “It was one harmless little kiss. I barely used any tongue. Besides, you can’t tell me you honestly care what these people think of you.”

  “I’m engaged, Cass.”

  “So you continue to remind me.”

  “I can’t put on free shows with you in public without the risk of it getting back to him.”

  “With a reputation like his, I doubt he would blink at his fiancée bringing a friend to the party.” She studied me. “For sex.”

  “I get it.” I swatted at her. “You don’t have to break it down for me. So loudly. And in public.”

  Leaning in, she smiled, slow and wicked. “I worry all that virginity is clogging your ears.”

  Again, the temptation to yank her ponytail itched my fingers. “Did you find anything?”

  “Other than you rekindling old friendships?”

  “Yes, aside from that.”

  “No.” She thinned her lips as we started walking. “There are several vampires in attendance, but they had the poor taste to wear booster shirts in public, so I must assume their wards are enrolled at this school.”

  Most vampires in rural parts of the country blended with humans in order to survive. They kept their clans small, their resources hidden, and their members in line. Otherwise, folks like Cass and me paid them a visit. And no clan master wanted that.

  The wind shifted, carrying with it the scent of charred burgers and greasy fries that left me salivating.

  “Addie…” Cass dug her fingers into my side. “I smell blood.”

  Heart kicking up a notch, I reminded her, “There’s a game happening several yards away whose only point I can tell seems to be boys running up and down a field while knocking the crap out of each other.”

  Head angling toward the away team’s locker room, she said, “No player bled this much.”

  And lived went unspoken.

  “Let’s hope you’re wrong.”

  But I got a bad feeling she was right.

  Eleven

  Boaz stood over Twyla Thorn, careful to avoid the coagulating puddle of her blood, and examined the gash across her slender throat that had ended her life. Her pale eyes stretched wide, even in death, as if she had never considered the reaper might actually come for her. And keep her. To be fair, raised among vampires, she would have had no fear of her mortal life ending. Most often, vampire fosters were excited for their new lives to begin.

  Twyla wouldn’t get that second chance at walking the midnight path. She wouldn’t be walking anywhere ever again.

  “This makes no sense.” Honey, who had a niece in marching band, had been the first on scene. “She’s human.”

  Boaz played devil’s advocate. “Fostered by vampires.”

  “She wasn’t made into a statement piece either.”

  The girl had a phone in her hand, but no music played, and her eyes had been left uncovered.

  Compared to the other victims, she was given a clean and swift death.

  “You said it.” He rolled a shoulder. “She’s human.”

  The last human to be killed hadn’t gotten off this easy, though. He had been stabbed in the heart. Repeatedly.

  “You think our killer didn’t know?”

  “Maybe didn’t know or maybe figured it was a preventative measure.”

  The girl was a vampire-to-be, no bones about it. Killing her as a human was ten times easier than waiting until after she had been resuscitated. She made a much more tempting target like this. She knew Angelo, and Ron. They were clanmates. That was enough of a connection to stick to pattern. Plus, this stunt left her alone and vulnerable, easy prey for a seasoned killer.

  “Who found her?” He backed away from the body. “Please tell me not another kid.”

  Kids and teens were more malleable when it came to swiping their memories or imprinting new ones, which meant they could also warp what was seeded into their subconscious, merge it with bits of the truth, and create a whole host of new problems.

  “You’re going to love this.” She checked her notes. “Cassandra Desmond.”

  “Why does that not surprise me?” He scanned the locker room one last time. “I don’t suppose she stuck around for questioning?”

  “Nope.”

  “Are her fingerprints on file?” He doubted she was their killer, but he wanted her eliminated before this blew back on Addie. Until he understood the nature of his fiancée’s relationship with the vampire, he had to proceed with caution. Especially after prints found at both Ron and Angelo’s murder scenes had been matched to the others from out of state. He doubted Twyla’s would break pattern either. “Has she been in any trouble locally?”

  “Nope and nope.” Honey exhaled. “She’s clean as a whistle.”

  Thinking of Addie and her Zumba class, he asked, “Did you notice anyone with her?”

  “No.” Honey glanced around again. “You think there are two of them?”

  “Killers or bounty hunters?”

  “Either.” She looked back at him. “Both.”

  “I’m not sure on either count.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Any witnesses?”

  “Yeah.” She referred back to her notes again. “A Ms. Nunez followed Cassandra to the locker room. She’s a teacher and intended to warn her off wandering the school grounds, but she saw the body and started screaming her head off.”

  Easy enough to guess why Cassandra had gone to the locker room. She smelled the blood. But why had she been at the school in the first place? A bounty on a runaway? Seemed likely.

  Her crossing his path during the course of this investigation once was coincidence, but this made three times. He couldn’t let that slide without questioning her.

  Scratching his jaw, he eyed the door. “Nunez is still here?”

  “Waiting on the cleaners to arrive,” Honey confirmed. “She’ll need her memory altered a smidge.”

  Spells to alter human minds and memory were illegal, not that it stopped those in power from using them for the greater good. That was the company line, anyway. Boaz had seen enough folks garroted by policy to have his doubts, but he had the good sense to keep them to himself.

  “I’m going to talk to her before that happens,” he decided, knowing she would be useless afterward. “Let me know when the cleaners get here.”

  “Sure thing.” Honey stood watch over the girl who no longer needed a guardian. “The witness is behind the bleachers. She was sitting on a cooler last I saw.”

  Nodding his thanks, Boaz went out to meet the woman, who was cradling her middle and rocking.

  “Who could have done such a thing?” She glanced between the sentinels posted to either side of her. “Who was she? I don’t know all the children, of course, but I didn’t recognize her. What was her name? Maybe I’ll remember that.”

  Abernathy and Parker kept their eyes forward and their mouths shut, but they nodded to Boaz.

  “Ms. Nunez.” Boaz turned on his good ol’ boy smile. “Do you mind if I ask you a few questions?”

  The woman perked at her name and then preened a bit when she spotted him before slumping back into her hunched posture. He got the feeling both reactions were equally authentic. That she enjoyed attention, being the center of it, but not this kind, not at this cost.

  “I’m happy to help in any way I can.”

  Aware the cleaners were en route, he didn’t dawdle. “Do you know Cassandra Desmond?”

  There was little harm in giving out names, considering what the cleaners would do to her shortly.

  “No.” She shook her head. “That name’s not familiar.”

  A plain vanilla human had no reason to know a vampire, but it was a small community, and folks talked. Apparently, they just didn’t talk about Cassandra. Otherwise, he had a feeling this woman would know.

  Polite as you please,
he pressed harder. “Did you notice anyone or anything out of place tonight?”

  “There were so many kids and parents and visitors…” Her gaze went distant. “Cassandra, you said?”

  “Yes.” It pained him to wait for her to finish her thought, and he nudged her. “Cassandra Desmond.”

  “I bumped into a friend of mine from high school tonight,” she confided. “She was with her girlfriend, Cass.” She chewed on her bottom lip. “They were both wearing long coats, but I could see leather pants beneath it, and boots. With a lot of laces.” She lowered her voice. “Highly inappropriate, if you ask me.”

  Dread twisted through his gut at this confirmation of his worst fears. “What’s your friend’s name?”

  “Adelaide.” She gazed off at a spot near the concession stand. “Adelaide Whitaker.”

  The sentinels to either side of Nunez slid their gazes toward Boaz, aware of his connection to Addie. This link between his fiancée and the bounty hunter with a nose for trouble would blow up in his face if he didn’t hurry and diffuse the situation.

  “You said they were together?” He held on to his smile by sheer practice. “Are you sure?”

  “Oh, I’m sure.” Her busybody persona surfaced with a smirk. “They put on quite a show.”

  “A show?”

  “They kissed,” she whispered as if sharing a dirty secret. “In front of God and everyone.”

  “Adelaide Whitaker kissed Cassandra Desmond?”

  “If that was her name, then yes. She did. I had no idea Adelaide…” A blush touched Ms. Nunez’s cheeks, macabre slashes against the pallor of her complexion. “Everyone in line at the concession stand saw it.”

  So much for easy solutions. Sentinels were one thing, but a mass of unidentified humans was another. There were too many witnesses to erase the deed or to ignore the spectacle. People would talk, word would get around, and the dominos of his life—so carefully lined up—would start falling. Worse, Addie would topple alongside him.

  And goddess, when had that happened?

  When had Addie joined the small circle of people he would do anything to protect?

  About the time she offered your sister a way out of her troubles, he reminded himself. Don’t go getting sentimental. You need Addie. Otherwise, Amelie is screwed. Not many women would have offered what Addie did. You can’t afford to botch this.

  Yeah.

  That was why.

  Goddessdamn him.

  He wasn’t supposed to care. Not after what he had done to Grier. But Addie was good. Whatever this was, she had to have an explanation for it. There had to be a reason. He just had to convince Addie to share hers with him.

  “Thank you for your help.” He kept his voice calm, despite his desperation to break loose and put eyes on Addie before someone else put cuffs on her. “The EMTs will be by to check on you shortly.”

  Turning his back on her protests, he made his way to his bike, careful to keep an eye out for pursuit. The others would be as curious about what his fiancée was doing at the murder scene as him.

  Dialing Addie as he mounted his bike, he clenched his jaw, working to modulate his tone when she did. “Where are you?”

  “At home.” She sounded breathless, and he couldn’t shake the mental picture of what else she and Cassandra could be doing to make her that way. “I’m cooking dinner. If you’re not here in an hour, I’ll put yours in the fridge.”

  Emotion scraped his nerves raw. Jealousy or fear or both. He couldn’t tell, and that bothered him. “I’m on my way now, actually.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I’ll, um, get moving then.” Pots clattered in the background. “See you soon.”

  After the call ended, Boaz rubbed his thumb over the screen, wondering what he was about to walk in on and how he was going to handle this conversation. He had never cheated on a girlfriend. He could say that much for himself. He might not stick around, might not get serious, but he was honest about his intentions from the start.

  Just like you were honest with Grier?

  Shame and disgust twisted his gut into knots, but this was bigger than potential infidelity. The Society wouldn’t look kindly upon their union if Addie was carrying on an affair—in public—prior to their wedding. Their union had to be above reproach in order for them to each get what they wanted from the other.

  The drive to the old Whitaker place blurred, his thoughts twisting as much as his stomach, and he took a moment to compose himself before he dismounted Willie and entered the house.

  “I’m in the kitchen,” Addie called cheerfully. “Do you like onions on your pizza?”

  “Sure.” He strolled in, the smells leading him by the nose. “I’m not picky.”

  Popping a slice of pepperoni in her mouth, she smiled over at him. “How do you feel about ham?”

  Easy, so easy, to imagine this scene as his life. Him, coming home from work, grim and sour. Her, bustling around the house, bright and happy, dressed in pajamas. How he felt about that, he couldn’t say, but he could picture it. “As long as it’s not served with green eggs, I’m good.”

  Her laugh was throaty and pleasant as she began the meticulous arrangement of their homemade pizza, using a ratio of vegetables to meat known to her alone.

  The domesticity of it all cut him down to the bone, and he asked, “How was Zumba?”

  He got his tone wrong. He could tell by the way she froze, the slice of ham trembling in her fingers, and then she dragged her gaze up to his. He had let his temper get away from him when he knew he couldn’t afford to blow it, but she was still selling him on some idyllic version of their future he knew as false.

  “I didn’t go to Zumba,” she confessed, fussing with her toppings. “I went with a friend to a football game instead.”

  Yep.

  He had overplayed his hand, and she was lying to him with the truth.

  Might as well give up the pretense then. “Do you know a vampire by the name of Cassandra Desmond?”

  Palms braced on either side of the stove, she studied the pizza for design imperfections. “Yes.”

  “Did you attend the game with her?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did you kiss her?”

  Boaz made a fist at his side, but it was too late. The question was out there, and her answer shouldn’t have mattered so much. Their engagement was a business proposition, not a love match. He had no right to her heart. As long as she played by the rules, they could make it work. He had to believe that.

  The alternative was too miserable to contemplate, but it would be no less than he deserved.

  “No.” She exhaled hard, rustling the shredded mozzarella. “She did, however, kiss me.”

  “Addie…” he began, unsure where to go from there. “We have to talk about this.”

  A warning tingle coasted down his spine as the presence of a vampire registered to his senses.

  “You might as well tell him the truth,” a female voice called from what sounded like the head of the stairs. “He might arrest you otherwise.”

  That was yet to be determined, but he had to question Addie for sure. Cassandra too. He was almost glad she was here. Almost. Because he wasn’t sure how he felt about finding her in his fiancée’s house, calling orders to her in the sultry voice that vampires used on their victims. From upstairs. Where the bedrooms were located.

  “You might as well get your butt in here then,” Addie yelled in response. “You’re the one who blew our cover.”

  A long sigh gusted down the stairs, and a striking woman with curves bound tight in leather entered the kitchen with an impressive pout aimed at Addie on her full lips.

  “Boaz, this is Cass.” Addie handled the introduction. “Cass, this is Boaz.”

  “I would like to get one thing straight upfront.” Cassandra—no, Cass—stopped in front of him. “Addie did not cheat on you. I took exception to how an annoyingly perky and yet condescending human was treating her and misbehave
d. It was not consensual, and it was wrong.” She flicked her eyes toward Addie. “I’m sorry.”

  “Cass,” she squeaked. “He wants to know about the murders, not that.”

  “He’s a man, and he’s engaged to you. He wants to know.” She turned a knowing smile on him. “I bet it was eating you up inside the whole drive over, wondering if you would catch us in the act.” Her teeth were bright and sharp. “I bet you wondered, if you did, if we would ask you to join us.”

  Despite her apology to Addie, it was clear Cass’s defense mechanism was seduction. He wasn’t sure she could help herself, if she was even aware she was doing it. He also wasn’t sure she cared either way, except that Addie was there to witness it. There was definitely some bond between the two women.

  But then, Addie was the rare kind of person who made you want to do better, be better.

  “Ignore her.” Addie snagged Cass by the wrist, hauled her to the table, and shoved her into a chair. She manhandled Cass more than most vampires allowed. “She lives to rile up people.”

  “I’m dead,” Cass countered. “I don’t live to do anything.”

  “You know what I mean.” She pointed a finger at the vampire. “You are not helping.” Turning her attention to him, she clasped her hands in front of her. “You have questions?”

  “So many,” he breathed, gesturing between the women. “What is this?”

  Eyes glinting, Cass wet her lips. “I’m her—”

  “—friend,” Addie finished for her in a rush. “My best friend, actually.”

  “Best friend,” he repeated, doubtful. “And she wants, what? To be best friends with benefits?”

  “Yes,” Cass answered as Addie flushed scarlet and yelped, “No.”

  Hands covering her face, Addie slumped into the chair beside Cass and braced her elbows on the table. “I hate you.”

  Flicking her friend an unsure glance, Cass frowned, causing faint creases to bracket her mouth. “No, you don’t.”

  “Oh, yes,” Addie mumbled. “Right about now, I do.”

  The vampire appeared to wage some internal battle that resulted in her dropping the seductress act and measuring Boaz with predatory intent that lifted the fine hairs down his nape.