Little frown lines briefly creased her otherwise smooth forehead. “Not that I knew of. But we’d only been lovers for a few weeks.”
“What about clubs? Which of those did he frequent?”
“All of them. Particularly the underground ones.”
I raised my eyebrows and glanced at Ben. “There are still underground wolf clubs?”
“For people who have similar sexual needs to Denny. Such things are generally not authorized at the legal clubs.”
Meaning they weren’t places I’d want to frequent—though I would, if it meant getting answers. I glanced back to Jilli. “When did you and Denny last have sex?”
“The night he died.”
“So it was you I smelled on the sheets?” My gaze went to her neck as I said that, but she had a turtleneck sweater on.
“Yes, but he was perfectly fine when I left him.” She sniffed. “He was sleeping, in fact.”
Her tone seemed to imply he had no stamina, and I resisted the urge to smile. “And there’s nothing else you can tell me? Nothing he said or did that seemed odd to you?”
“No.” She hesitated. “He did complain about being followed.”
I raised my eyebrows. “When?”
“The night he died. He said he’d spotted some lanky fellow trailing him a couple of times. He’d tried to point him out to me the night before, but I couldn’t see him.”
Lanky—Ivan’s attacker had certainly been that. And given the scent that had been in both apartments, it was looking more likely that my sense of smell was spot-on, and it was the same attacker.
“So did you believe he was being followed?”
She hesitated. “Denny wasn’t into playing games like that. If he said he was being followed, then yes, I believe him.” She glanced at her watch. “Is that all?”
“Yes. Thanks.”
She nodded and marched efficiently off.
“Denny never mentioned anything like that to me,” Ben said heavily.
“I wonder if he mentioned it to the police?” Wondered if Jilli had. I should have asked, but I guess it would be in the report if she had. I took a sip of coffee, then said, “Did Ivan visit the underground clubs?”
“No. Ivan is as straightlaced as they come.”
“So that’s probably not the connection, then.” I studied him for a moment, then said, “What about you?”
Amusement gleamed in his eyes. “I know where they are, simply because I sometimes need to direct clientele there. Nonpareil does not cater to such needs.”
“Just good old-fashioned sex, huh?”
“Not just good, thank you very much. Our standards are beyond excellent.”
I grinned. “Not to blow your own horn, of course.”
“Of course,” he agreed, with the sort of look that had the blood surging through my veins.
Man, what I wouldn’t give to be able to…
My phone chose that moment to ring, which was probably a good thing. I really didn’t need to be thinking about what I’d like to do with this wolf. I grabbed my purse from underneath the table and dragged out my cell. The number wasn’t one I recognized, which was unusual because this was a Directorate phone, and few people had the direct number.
I pressed the receive button and said, “Riley speaking.”
“Riley? This is Vincenta.”
Speak of the devil, and she calls. Something inside me went cold. “How did you get my number?”
“Ah,” she drawled, amusement evident in her rich tones. “That would be giving away trade secrets, now, wouldn’t it?”
The kiss, I thought. It had something to do with that goddamn kiss. That’d teach me not to follow my instincts.
I was getting a new number as soon as I got back to the Directorate.
“What do you want, Vinny?”
“Ivan has been killed. I felt his death a few moments ago.”
“You felt it?” How was something like that possible? As far as I knew, the bond of a vampire and his—or her—get went no deeper than creator and child. There was a duty of care to get them through the first treacherous years of turning, a responsibility that most took seriously if they didn’t want the Directorate hunting their asses. But to have the depth of connection to actually feel a true death?
“Vampires who feed off emotions are different from our blood kin,” she said, rich voice holding just a whisper of anger. “I share part of myself on creation, and they share a part of themselves. It makes us one. Hence, I felt the moment of his departure from this world.”
“How did it happen?”
I held my hand over the phone, and mouthed her name to Ben. Seriousness suddenly overtook the light amusement that had been lingering in his eyes. “Trouble?” he said softly.
I nodded.
“He was decapitated,” Vinny said.
Decapitation was the one way to prevent someone who’d taken the blood ceremony from ever rising again. Hell, it was one of the few good ways to stop a regular vampire, too. It didn’t kill them outright, but with a broken neck they couldn’t move and couldn’t feed, and death was usually the end result.
“Did the sensation of his death tell you anything else?”
“I didn’t see his murderer, if that’s what you’re asking,” Vinny said. “But then, I do not have to. This death came via Aron Young.”
After his slice-and-dice efforts on Ivan yesterday, Young was the immediate pick for prime suspect. That didn’t make him guilty, of course, and neither did the certainty in Vinny’s voice.
“If you didn’t see it, how can you be so sure?”
“Because I tasted the need for vengeance on his lips.”
Which suggested her kiss was a whole lot more than just a meeting of lips—which is what I had feared all along. God, what had she tasted on mine? Part of me wanted to ask, but maybe it was better to just ignore the whole situation.
“You tasted that, and yet still let him see Ivan?”
“His money was good,” Vinny said. “And I thought I could control the situation.”
And her overconfidence had now cost Ivan not only his life but his afterlife, too.
“You had the chance last night to tell me what you knew about Aron Young. This death is on your conscience, Vinny.”
If she had a conscience, that is. Personally, I figured her conscience would only come into play when it suited her.
“I realize that,” she snapped. “Which is why I’ve rung. Aron Young lives at 4 Havard Street, Glenroy. Kill him for me.”
“The Directorate isn’t your personal assassination squad,” I snapped back, then hung up and flung the phone back into my purse. After a deep, calming breath, I met Ben’s gaze. “Ivan’s dead.”
“I gathered that.” He crossed his arms, his expression grim. “How?”
“Decapitated.”
Understanding ran through his bright eyes. “So, no rebirth, then.”
“No.” I hesitated, then added, “I’m sorry you lost another friend.”
He smiled and reached across the table, taking my hand in his and squeezing my fingers lightly. “Catch this bastard for me.”
“I will.” I glanced down, suddenly wishing the hands that clasped mine with such warm strength could caress the rest of me and bring me back to aching, fierce life. I wanted that. Wanted it bad.
I just wasn’t sure that I was ready for it.
Besides, I had a bad guy to catch, and as much I had never wanted to be a guardian, I had grown to enjoy many parts of the job. I couldn’t now shirk responsibility to pursue pleasure.
I rose. “I’ll ring you later. We’ll finish this another time.”
“I certainly hope so.”
He released my hand, and my hormones let out a collective sigh of frustration. I ignored them and headed out.
Once I was in my car and back on the road, I switched on the onboard and contacted the Directorate. Jack answered.
“I need another cell phone number, boss.”
“Yeah, like they’re something I can just haul out of my ass and hand around willy-nilly.”
I grinned. “I was under the impression you could do anything.”
“You, my dear guardian, are testing even my limits.” There was an undercurrent of amusement in his voice, which meant he wasn’t as grouchy as his words made out. A quick look down at the screen confirmed the fact. There was a decided twinkle in his eyes. Maybe he’d found himself a nice little blood donor last night. “So tell me why you need to lose a perfectly good phone number.”