Personal Demon

HOPE: RACKING UP CREDITS

The hotel room door opened with a click. Karl peeked around the corner.

“You’re up.”

I yawned. “Just stirring. Being lazy and enjoying it.”

I was curled up in the king-size bed, propped on two pillows, with the rest strewn around me. On my morning bathroom trip I’d grabbed a robe-not for decency, but because it was thick and soft, too tempting to ignore.

“You look lost in that bed and that robe. Very cute.” He smiled at me.

“Cute?” I sputtered. I undid the robe and spread it, then stretched out on top of the covers. “Better?”

His gaze slid down me. “I take it you don’t mind a cold breakfast?”

I noticed the tray in his hands, steam billowing from the plate cover, and I pulled the robe shut.

“Damn,” he said.

He set the tray down, handed me USA Today, then tossed the Wall Street Journal onto the other side of the bed.

“You really are spoiling me.”

“No, I’m racking up credits. I suspect I’ll need them.”

He kissed my cheek as he leaned over to hand me a coffee.

“Speaking of credits,” I said. “I called my mother while you were out. She said dinner Saturday would be wonderful. She’ll make reservations.”

“Too late. Done.”

“You got reservations for Odessa’s on a Saturday?”

His brows arched. “You think I don’t know how to get a table at a popular restaurant? You forget who you’re talking to, my dear.” He set the tray between us as he climbed in. “Dropping your mother’s name helped.”

“I’m sure it did. She likes you, you know. For me, I mean.”

“Good. Though I was on my best behavior that night, which may have skewed the results.”

“I don’t think so.”

Our eyes met. He nodded. “Good.”

I spread preserves on my toast. “She wants me to invite you to the spring regatta.”

“Rowing? Are you competing?”

“I…” A shrug. “I’m out of practice, so it’ll be strictly a social function for me.”

“There’s still time. Consider it a challenge. Get yourself whipped into shape by spring.”

“Are you going to show your support at 5:30 a.m. practices?”

“Absolutely. From the comfort of my bed, I will be cheering you on wholeheartedly.”

I laughed and took a bite of toast.

“I’ll come out when I can,” he said. “In return for breakfast afterward.”

“Sounds fair.”

“And you can tell your mother I would love to come to the regatta. I’m sure it will be a”-a sly grin my way-“glittering affair.”

“Uh-uh. As my guest, you are forbidden to steal from my mother or any of her friends. I’ll show you who you can steal from, provided a portion of the proceeds go to a charity of my choosing.”

“A finder’s fee?”

“You got it.”

“Fair enough.”

We ate for a few minutes. My paper rested on my tray; his on his lap, both still folded as we perused the lead articles, as if reluctant to open it and make that commitment.

“I made a few more calls this morning,” Karl said.

“Did you phone Lucas? Did he say-?”

His glower cut me short, reminding me that we were leaving that aside until after breakfast.

“A couple of months ago, I talked to Jeremy about relocating.”

It took a moment for me to understand what he meant. The bubble that was keeping last night’s reality at bay also blocked any reminder that we were anything other than two ordinary people.

“Changing my territory,” he prompted.

“Right, yes.” As a Pack werewolf, Karl was allowed to hold territory. The others shared New York State. By choice, he got Massachusetts-a reflection on both his independence and his reluctance to fully join into Pack life.

“The calls I made today were inquiries into a couple of condos in Philadelphia.”

He stopped there, and I had to replay his words before his meaning sunk in.

“You want to move to Philly? Relocate your territory to Pennsylvania?”

“Is that all right?”

“I suppose-I mean, yes. That’s all right. Just…unexpected.”

He reached to take a slice of bacon off my plate, using the excuse to study my expression. Moving territory wasn’t something to be done lightly. Which meant he was serious. About me. About us. And I knew that, I guess. It was just…unexpected.

“It’s really more of a home base than a home,” he said. “I just thought Philadelphia would be more convenient, under the circumstances.”

I nodded.

“I’m particularly interested in a new building about a block from your office.”

I managed a smile. “Ah, the Renaissance Towers. Very classy. Did you know they tore down one of the city’s oldest apartments to build it? Destroyed a heritage building?”

“I believe they preserved part of the facade.”

“And evicted people who’d been living there their entire lives.”

“It has a lovely view.”

“I’m sure it does.”

He sighed. “If I choose it, I’ll donate five percent of the purchase price to a homeless shelter.”

“That’s not really the point.”

“It has a lovely view.”

I shook my head and finished my orange juice.

“Anyway, it would be convenient for you,” he said. “A place for you to eat lunch, instead of brown bagging it at your desk. And a place to sleep if you work late or the weather’s bad.”

“That’d be nice.”

He reached for my uneaten croissant. “You may find it more convenient, at some point, to stay there during the week, and we can spend weekends at your townhouse in Gideon.”

I gave him a look.

“I said, ‘at some point.’”

“I’ve never lived with anyone, Karl.”

“Neither have I.”

“I drool in my sleep.”

“I know. It’s cute.”

As I opened my mouth, the phone blipped on my nightstand. A text message, which meant I didn’t need to answer it immediately, but it made a good excuse.

“Who is it?” he asked, though his tone told me he had a pretty good idea.

“Paige.”

As I skimmed through the message, my fingers tightened around the phone. “She says there was a shooting last night, while they were finding Carlos. They think it’s a member of the gang. She’s warning me that she’s sending the photo separately, so I don’t get a shock opening it, I guess.” I took a deep breath and resisted the urge to check for the second message. “Troy’s stable. And they did find Carlos. She says they’re ‘holding him.’” I glanced at Karl. “In custody? Do they think he’s involved?”

His expression said he didn’t care enough to speculate.

“She’d like me to call her. She probably has some questions about last night.”

“Fine. Tell her you’ll call from the plane.”

“Karl…”

“Don’t you see what he’s doing?”

“Who?”

“Lucas. He’s as sneaky as his father. I told him to call me.”

“It’s my help they need with the photo.”

“He doesn’t even call you himself, but has his wife do it, sending a text message so it sounds as if they’re being considerate, not wanting to disturb you. Just watch. When you call, Paige will invite us out to breakfast, where Lucas will pounce, catch you off guard and talk you into staying to help him.”

“And why shouldn’t he? His brothers are dead, Karl. He’ll do what it takes to find whoever is responsible. I know I would.”

“Because you’re close to your brothers. If Lucas was the dead one, Hector and William sure as hell wouldn’t go looking for his killer. Unless it was to thank him.”

“If Lucas thinks the gang is involved, then he needs my help and I’m going to give it. While he’d appreciate your nose, I can convince him you’re otherwise engaged. So catch that plane to Philly, check the condos, take the keys for my place if you want to crash there…”

His look was enough.

“One day, Karl. Give me that, and if you want to help, I’d love that.”

“Twenty-four hours. There’s a flight leaving at ten tomorrow, and I’m buying tickets.”

In other words, he’d expected this, and was just registering his protest.

“Thank you, Karl.”

“Credits. I’m stockpiling ’em.”

I OPENED PAIGE’S second message and braced for the photo. A young Hispanic man with shaggy hair and a tiny scar through his eyebrow seemed to sleep peacefully on a carpet. Rodriguez.

Jaz had said Rodriguez lived with his older sister in Miami, the one who’d called with the college news. Rodriguez was a half-demon, so his family didn’t know about his supernatural life. Presumably his death was being handled by the Cabal. How could they let his sister know of his death, but deny her details or access to his body? Would they find a way…or just let him disappear?

When I called Paige, she sounded so exhausted I was sure she hadn’t gotten to bed. Instead of her inviting me to breakfast, I offered to bring her one. But she brushed me off with thanks.

I aimed a glower at Karl, who could overhear Paige and had the grace to look mildly chagrined.

I told Paige who her victim was, and that I could only give a surname and sketchy bio.

“The tech guy, huh?” she murmured. “That makes sense. He had a lot of gear on him.”

“Did the Cabal shoot him?” I tried to keep the accusation out of my voice. Wasn’t sure I succeeded.

“I don’t think so. We caught him in an alley and we were just about to get information from him. Obviously someone didn’t want to take that chance.”

“Someone from the gang?”

“We presume so.”

I doubted it. Guy would trust Rodriguez to keep his mouth shut at least long enough for a rescue attempt.

More likely it had been a Cabal sniper who didn’t dare admit his mistake to Lucas. If it had been the gang, they’d been aiming for whoever was holding Rodriguez.

I didn’t argue, though. The truth would come out. The Cabals might kill one of their own to keep him from talking, but I was sure the gang wouldn’t.

“There’s something else we were hoping you could help with,” Paige said. “You may have heard the gang mention an off-site place where they keep supplies and such?”

“Yes, but I don’t have any idea where it is.”

“The Cabal has the address. It’s a warehouse unit. We’ve had a team staking it out since three. At around four, two young men went inside. They haven’t come out. We presume it’s a rendezvous point and the others were already in there.”

Others? With Rodriguez dead, there were only three members left.

“What about Jaz and Sonny? Have you found out anything? Is the Cabal still claiming they aren’t responsible?”

A pause.

My heart hammered. “You’ve found them? Their bodies?”

“No, but Lucas is certain the Cabal isn’t behind this. With everything that’s happened, Benicio would come clean, if only because it could help solve the case. Lucas is-” A buzz of the phone, as if she was moving. “He’s beginning to suspect they were never abducted.”

“What?”

“I’ll explain later. About the warehouse, though. Lucas wants to go in within the hour, and we thought you might want to be there just to, you know, negotiate. If things don’t go as hoped, Lucas really doesn’t want this to end badly.”

That was her politic way of saying they feared if the gang resisted, the roust could turn into a massacre.

“We’ll be there.”