“It was in the paper,’” Michael said. “Abducted last night walking to her car.’”
Claire frowned. “Why would it be in the paper? I mean, they don’t usually put stuff like that in the papers, right?’” Because in Morganville, murder was sort of legitimate, wasn’t it?
“They do if it wasn’t vampires,’” Eve said, and nibbled on a carrot stick as she rolled the dice. “Oooooh, pay me my two hundred, Mr. Banker. If she’d been dragged off by vamps, even rogue vamps, it would have just been swept under the carpet like usual. Payoffs to the family, end of the story. But this is different.’”
“Is that, you know, unusual? Crime? Crime that isn’t vampire related, I mean?’”
“Kinda.’” Eve shrugged. “But people tend to get nasty around Morganville. Nasty, or drunk, or timid. One of those.’”
“Which are you?’” Shane asked. Eve bared her teeth at him and growled. “Ouch. Right. Gotcha.’”
“So…Eve, I heard your brother’s out of jail,’” Michael said. Claire was rolling dice for her move, and by the time the plastic hit the board it sounded as loud as plates shattered on a tile floor. Nobody was making a sound. Nobody was breathing, so far as she could tell. From the expression on his face, Michael was clearly rethinking having brought up the subject, and Eve looked…hard and fierce and (deep down) scared.
Shane was just watching, no expression at all.
Awkward.
“Um…’” Claire cautiously slid her Scottie dog the six squares that she’d rolled. “You haven’t said much about your brother.’” She was curious what Eve would say. Because clearly Eve was not happy Michael had brought it up.
“I don’t talk about him,’” Eve said flatly. “Not anymore. His name is Jason, and he’s a dick, and let’s drop the subject, okay?’”
“Okay.’” Claire cleared her throat. “Shane?’”
“What?’” He looked down at the board where she was pointing. “Oh. Right. Three hundred.’”
She mutely handed over her last bills as Shane took the dice in hand.
“Eve, you know what he went to jail for. You don’t think—,’” Michael began, very slowly.
“Shut up, Michael,’” Eve said tensely. “Just shut up, okay? Is it possible he did it? Sure. I wouldn’t put it past him, but he just got out yesterday morning. That’s pretty fast work, even for Jason.’” But she looked shaken, under the fierce expression, and even paler than normal. “You know what? I have to get up early. ’Night.’”
“Eve—’”
She jumped up and headed for the stairs. Michael followed, two steps behind as she climbed toward her room, black tattered-silk skirt fluttering. Claire watched them go, eyebrows raised, and Shane continued to shake the dice.
“Guess the game’s over,’” he said, and rolled anyway. “Heh. Boardwalk. I think that completes Shane’s real estate empire, thank you for playing, good night.’”
“What was Michael talking about?’” Claire asked. “Does he think Eve’s brother might have taken that girl?’”
“No, he thinks Eve’s brother might have killed that girl,’” Shane said. “And the cops probably think so, too. If he did, they’ll get him, and this time, he won’t be getting out of jail. In fact, he probably won’t even make it to jail. One of Karla’s brothers is a cop.’”
“Oh,’” Claire said in a small voice. She could hear the murmur of conversation upstairs. “Well…I guess I should get to bed, too. I have early classes tomorrow.’”
Shane met her eyes. “Might want to give them some privacy for a while.’”
Oh. Right. She jiggled her foot under the table and started gathering up the cash and cards from the table. Her hands brushed Shane’s, and he let go of the cards and took hold.
And then, somehow, she was in his lap, and he was kissing her. Hadn’t meant to do that, but…well. She couldn’t exactly be sorry about it, because he tasted amazing, and his lips were so soft and his hands were so strong…
He leaned back, eyes half-shut, and he was smiling. Shane didn’t smile all that much, and it always left her breathless and tingling. There was a secrecy about it, like he only ever smiled with her, and it just felt…perfect. “Claire, you’re being careful, right?’” He smoothed hair back from her face. “Seriously. You’d tell me if you got into trouble.’”
“No trouble,’” she lied, thinking about Monica’s not-so-veiled threats, and that glimpse of Shane’s dad seated across from Oliver in the coffee shop. “No trouble at all.’”
“Good.’” He kissed her again, then moved down her jawline to her neck, and, wow, neck nibbles that took her breath away again. She closed her eyes and buried her fingers in his warm hair, trying to tell him through every touch how much she liked this, liked him, loved…
Her eyes came open, fast.
She did not just think that.
Shane’s warm hands moved up her sides, thumbs grazing the sides of her breasts again, and he traced his fingers across the thin skin of her collarbone…down to where the neck of her T-shirt stopped him. Teasing. Pulling it down an inch, then two.
And then, maddeningly, he let go and leaned back, lips damp. He licked them, watching her, and gave her that slow, crazy sexy smile again.
“Go to bed,’” he said. “Before I decide to come with.’”
She wasn’t sure she could stand up, but somehow, she got her legs to steady under her, and made it up the stairs. Michael was in Eve’s room, the door was open, and they were sitting together on her bed. Michael was so bright, with his golden hair and china blue eyes, and he didn’t match the room all draped in dramatic black and red. He looked like an angel who’d taken a massive wrong turn.
He was holding Eve in his arms and rocking her, very gently, back and forth. As Claire looked in, he met her eyes and mouthed, Close the door.
She did, and went to her own bed.
Sadly, alone.
It occurred to Claire that she’d be smart to know what Jason Rosser looked like, in order to avoid him, but she had the strong feeling that it wouldn’t be a very good idea to ask Eve for a peek at the family album. Eve was pretty touchy just now about anything to do with her brother…which, if Shane’s pessimistic assessment was right, probably wasn’t the wrong attitude.
So Claire went researching. Not the university library, which—while not too bad—didn’t really have a lot of info about Morganville itself. She’d checked. There was some history, all carefully blanded down, and some newspaper archives.
But there was a Morganville Historical Society. She found the address in the phone book, studied the map, and calculated the time it would take to walk the distance. If she hustled, she could get there, find what she needed, and still make it to her noon class.
Claire showered, dressed in blue jeans and a black knit top with a screen-printed flower on it—one of her thrift-shop buys—and grabbed her backpack on the way to the door. She set herself a blistering pace once she hit the sidewalks, heading away from the university and into the unexplored guts of Morganville. She had the map with her, which was handy, because as soon as she was out of sight of the Glass House, things became confusing. For having been master planned, Morganville was not exactly logical in the way its streets ran. There were culs-de-sac, dead ends, lots of unlit deserted areas.
But then again, maybe that was logical, from a vampire’s planning perspective. Even in the hot beat of the sunlight, Claire shuddered at that idea, and moved faster past a street that ended in a deserted field littered with piled-up lumber and assorted junk. It even smelled like decay, the ugly smell of dead things left to rot in the heat. Having too much imagination was sometimes a handicap. At least I’m not walking it at night….
No power on earth was going to make her do that.
The residential areas of Morganville were old, mostly run-down, parched and beaten by summer. It was bound to get cooler soon, but for now, Indian summer was broiling the Texas landscape. Cicadas sang in dull dental-drill whines in the grass and trees, and there was a smell of dust and hot metal in the wind. Of all the places to find vampires, this was pretty much the last she would have expected. Just not…Goth enough. Too run-down. Too…American.