“I’ve already got my men on it.” He punched one final button and I heard a little swoosh sound. The next moment, my phone pinged and the list was in my e-mail in-box.
I wiped a smear of water off the table where the condensation from my bottle had formed a ring. “Thanks. By the way, in addition to trying to figure out who burned down the Wayfarer—we’re convinced it’s arson—I have the privilege of having been slapped with a lawsuit. Don’t know if I told you that. Add yet another thing to the week-from-hell list.”
“What are you talking about?” Roman set down his tablet.
“I’m being sued for wrongful death or some such crap. One of the victims’ families wasted no time in snagging a lawyer and slapping me with a lawsuit. Makes me wonder just how much they actually gave a damn about their daughter.” Feeling terribly grumpy, I reached in my purse and pulled out the summons I’d received the night before and tossed it on the table. “Lovely, huh?”
Roman silently opened it, scanned it through—he read incredibly fast; his intelligence was at genius level—then slowly refolded it and set it back on the table, keeping his hand on it.
“Bullshit. I’ll have my lawyer contact you and we’ll put a stop to this nonsense.” He shook his head. “Money-grubbing bastards.”
“Chase said he’d find me a lawyer—”
“Nonsense. I have the best money can buy. You are my consort. No arguments.” When Roman put his fangs down, he put them down. After a moment, he rubbed his chin, then placed one hand over mine. “I want to talk to you about something—two things actually. First, I want to pay for the rebuilding of your establishment.”
Roman, pay for rebuilding the Wayfarer? That didn’t go down too well. I cared about him, yes. I was bound to him, yes. But I still didn’t fully trust him. Camille and Delilah assumed that I’d given myself fully over to his charm. While it was true that, since he was my sire, I had to answer to him, it didn’t stop me from keeping my eyes open and I didn’t have to agree to everything he wanted.
I shook my head. “Thank you, but no. Smoky and Shade have already offered and I’ve accepted. Dragons horde treasure beyond even ancient vamps. They want to do this and I’d like to let them.” It was, I thought, the most tactful way around saying, “Thanks but I don’t want you having a stake in my bar.” Of course, Roman was smart enough to know what I was up to, but decorum had been observed and I knew him well enough to figure he’d accept my wishes.
He just laughed. “I know what you’re pulling. Fine, then. Refuse my help. But if you need it, all you have to do is ask. I truly do not have a hidden agenda in helping you, you know. But Menolly, we’ll find out who did this. I promise you all the help I can give to finding out who torched your bar. And when we do… they’d better pray to whatever gods they follow.”
I wanted to tell him we had a pretty good idea of what was going on. Roman did know that I’d received a letter shortly before the fire, one from an attorney speaking for an anonymous client asking to buy me out. I’d ignored it.
A few days later, I’d received two threatening phone calls, not directly aimed at my bar but hinting that I’d be better off dead, and that I would be sorry I hadn’t listened to “friendly” advice. I got a half-dozen crank calls from hate groups every month and had chalked them up to that. The next thing I knew, the bar was on fire.
“We think we know who’s responsible. I can’t talk about it right now, because seriously—we have to walk cautiously on this one, Roman. I’ll tell you as soon as I know for sure. But that letter I told you about is involved, as well as the crank calls I got after.”
Roman nodded. “I promise to stay out of it until you ask for my help.” His voice was soft, low and curled around me, inviting me in.
I leaned closer to him and he wrapped his arm around me, pressing his lips to mine. I leisurely returned the kiss, melting into his embrace. It was long and slow, without pressure. We both knew that tonight was a no-go and that I needed to head home, so we left it at that. But it stoked my fire, and once I reached home, I’d be dragging Nerissa down to our lair, to fuck her brains out.
Finally, I pulled away. “What’s the other thing you wanted to ask me?”
He cocked his head, the frost of his eyes glittering. “It’s about your daughter, Erin.”
I’d turned exactly one person: Erin Mathews. Former owner of the Scarlet Harlot lingerie boutique, she’d been captured when my former sire came looking for me to finish the job he’d started. Erin was almost dead when we got to her, and I’d given her the option of letting me turn her into a vampire. Otherwise, she would have died. She’d chosen eternal life, and just like that, I’d birthed a middle-aged daughter. Erin was smart, and she was quickly adapting.
“What about her?” Erin had been working as secretary for Vampires Anonymous, a self-help club for newly minted vamps. Run by a friend—Wade Stevens, a vampire and former psychologist who had taken it upon himself to help the newly turned—the VA provided a place where the undead could bridge the gap with their living family and friends, and learn how to coexist without caving to their inner predators.
“I want to take her out of the VA. She’s got the nature I’m looking for. I’d like to train her for my security department. She could rise quickly in the ranks.” The tone of Roman’s voice told me that he wasn’t going to give up on this one.
I thought about the offer. Truthfully, Erin would probably love it. She wanted to be useful and she wasn’t a woman who was happy sitting around. She’d hated the inactivity that Sassy had forced on her when I had left her with the socialite vamp. Sassy Branson had been a dear friend, but her inner predator had finally won out. I’d had to take her out—a promise I’d made when she was still in control of herself.
Erin loved the job she had now, but she’d told me she was itching for more to do. In the end, I decided she had too much talent and know-how to waste.
“I’ll stop on the way home and offer her the opportunity. If she’s up for it, no problem. Might do her a lot of good. If not, then you’ll let her be.”
He nodded. “Fair enough.”
“Time for me to head out, then. My sisters will be waiting and we’ve got a lot to do. With the war in Elqaneve, we’re running on nerves and caffeine—well, my sisters are. I’m just… running.”
“All right, love, but the moment you feel comfortable telling me who you think torched your bar, I expect to hear a full report. I’ll take on the world for you, you know that.”
I frowned. Roman might take on the world, but he’d be biting off more than he could chew if he attempted to take on Lowestar and his cronies. That would be all Seattle needed—a corporate war between the daemons and the vampires.
I slugged back the last drops of blood and picked up my purse, but before I could slide out of the booth, Shikra glided up to the table. The owner of the Utopia was silent, like most vamps, and absolutely gorgeous. Her hair was full and thick, shoulder length, and a tawny wheat color that reminded me of my Nerissa. Her eyes were icy blue. She had been a vampire for only five years, if I remembered right, but she had adapted quickly. Wearing a PVC dress, with the zipper pulled down around her navel, she’d had implants before she died. Her breasts were gloriously round, but they looked fake as hell. I wondered how being a vampire affected having implants, but decided to keep my mouth shut for now.
“I trust the service was good? And your drinks?” She gave a little dip, curtseying to Roman and me. Which was smart, considering his status.