Now that I was thinking about it more rationally, I couldn’t imagine Chaz hadn’t called and said something about where he was going to the guys at work. At the very least, he must have contacted them to let them know he wouldn’t be in to teach his regular cardio and body-conditioning classes. I’d been expecting him to hide somewhere off the radar, and I was acting under the assumption that the only way to find him would be to use supernatural connections.
Though I was still counting on those supernatural connections being my best bet, there had to be some other, more mundane means of finding him, too.
The police were hindered by procedure. I doubted they had solid proof of Chaz’s connection to the murders of those people who had been suspected of being infected with lycanthropy outside of contracts, other than what Jim Pradiz had provided only a few weeks before. Since the cops might not yet have thought to use banking or credit card activity to track him down, or even bothered getting started on looking for him when he wasn’t necessarily implicated as a suspect, the wait to get a search warrant approved for credit card records could take a while. Not only that, but the credit card company had up to ten days once they were served to supply the records. Theoretically, that could drag out beyond the end of the month, if the cops even thought to go that route to find him.
Chaz received his bank statements via e-mail. I’d seen him check one, once, using his computer at home. He’d set up his system to automatically download his e-mails without a password. If his computer was still there, there might be an e-mail trail or something in his bank statements that would lead me to him.
I did some mental calculations, picking up the bottle of vodka as I rose and headed back to my room. From my recollection, he wouldn’t be getting that e-mail from his bank for another few days. Painful to wait, but I could manage. In the meantime, I’d return to Chaz’s gym and do a search for the next best thing.
It was about time Kimberly and I had a reckoning.
Chapter 10
(Days left to full moon: 17)
There is nothing quite like going on a bender when your life is on the line.
I woke up with a taste in my mouth like something had crawled in there to die, my joints still burning with the fire of a thousand suns, and a jackhammer pounding its way out of my skull. Not to mention a queasiness that rivaled the one time Sara and I had bought one of those big box taco deals from some fast food joint after a night of beer and karaoke—which I’m never doing again, thanks—coupled with a fierce craving for something sweet and full of carbs. Pancakes smothered in syrup and butter sounded like both an awesome and disgusting idea right about now. Belgian waffles would be even better.
Odd. Breakfast for me usually meant coffee and some eggs or yogurt and granola.
Putting my cravings down to a side effect from the drinking, I rubbed my temples and sat up with a groan. The shade over the window was pulled, and it seemed too dark in the room. Turning on the lamp at my bedside was a horrible idea. Pain instantly shot from my retinas all the way to the back of my skull, making the pounding worse.
Getting up to shamble over to the bathroom seemed like a good idea until I stood up. The swaying and the dizziness wasn’t fun, but it passed after I gave myself a moment to adjust.
Splashing my face at the tap helped marginally. Rinsing away the taste of roadkill and drinking a little cold water helped more. Though I still squinted against the lights, I felt much better, more refreshed.
Throwing on some clothes, I gave the belt a passing glance, curled as it was on top of the dresser like a snake poised to strike. Putting it on could wait until tonight.
My muscles protested the stairs, but I made it to the kitchen in good time considering I was walking like someone had wound barbed wire through all the joints in my legs. The pain and soreness eased away by the time I got to the bottom.
Strangely, the scent of Italian food—tomatoes and oregano, garlic and parmesan—drifted my way long before I opened the door. Jack and Nikki were puttering around, doing dishes, and clearing things off the table, counters, and stove. Bo and Keith were at the table, picking at bowls of ice cream, Keith’s nose buried in a book. Clearly I’d just missed a big meal.
Nikki smirked at me over her shoulder before shoving a container into the fridge. “Sleeping beauty’s awake.”
Jack glanced my way, then went back to rinsing out a big pot. Bo and Keith waved me over, and I edged past Nikki and Jack to sit with them. Bo pushed a bowl and a container of cookie dough ice cream my way. It wasn’t waffles, but it would do.
“What the hell time is it? How long was I out?”
Keith shrugged. “It’s a little past 8:30. Nikki said she found the empty bottle of Grey Goose on the dresser. We all thought it’d be better to let you sleep it off.”
I turned about six shades of red, covering my face with my hands. Bo and Nikki laughed at me. All I could think of was the day lost to me. The hours that could have been spent hunting. The ticking time bomb I was becoming.
“Don’t worry about it,” Bo said, elbowing me lightly to get me to stop hiding my face.
Still feeling like an ass, I kept my head down, pushing my hair back just enough so the curls wouldn’t fall into my bowl or stick to my spoon when I shoveled a bit into my mouth.
Speaking around the bite of sugary bliss, I shook my spoon at Jack. “I know you wanted to wait for news from your contacts in the city before we went back, but I need to go to SoHo. I’ve got an idea.”
Jack was not impressed with my spoon. “You realize that’s just asking for trouble, don’t you? Why don’t we send Bo or Patrick? The police and vampires aren’t looking for them.”
“Mostly because I know what I’m looking for. If we left now, it’d be dark, and I doubt anyone at Chaz’s gym knows what happened between us. Maybe I can bluff my way into his stuff and find some records that might help. Or see if anybody overheard where he went. The guys there know me, and they’re more likely to talk to me than somebody they’ve never met.”
He frowned at me, leaning his hip against the sink and scrubbing his chin absently despite the suds covering his fingers. The serious look in his eyes went so well with his soap beard, I couldn’t suppress a giggle.
Jack’s frown deepened, and he glanced at Nikki, who smirked as she reached over to flick his chin with a towel, getting rid of the worst of the suds. He then realized what he’d done and grabbed the towel from her to wipe his face. More’s the pity. For a second I had mistaken him for a human being instead of a machine sent back in time to prevent anyone from having a good time or a sense of humor.
“It’s risky,” he muttered, returning his attention to the sink. “You can go, but not alone. Take Nikki or Bo with you.”
Nikki scoffed. “Like hell I’m going anywhere at this hour. Not unless we’ve got a hunt.”
I turned to Bo, knowing my expression must have been pitiful already, hamming it up even more by widening my eyes and letting my lower lip tremble. His laughter boomed through the room, loudly enough that Keith glanced with raised brows from over the top of his novel.
“With a face like that, how could I resist? Let me polish this off, then we can go.”
Matching his grin with one of my own, I took a couple more bites of my own ice cream before rising. “I’m going to change into my gear. I’ll meet you at the car.”
Dashing upstairs, I forwent the body armor, but put on the belt and a very oversized sweater of Bo’s that hung low enough to hide the stakes and had to be rolled up a half-dozen times at the sleeves to leave my hands free. It would make access to the weapons difficult, and made me look like I had the fashion sense of a four-year-old, but I doubted anyone at the gym would care. I wasn’t planning on being there long, and the guys who knew me would probably assume I’d borrowed it from Chaz.