All de la Cruz had was circumstantial evidence.
Not that any of it mattered. If for some reason things got too hot, she was just going to disappear. Maybe head out west. Maybe she'd go back to the Old Country.
For f**k's sake, she should have left Caldwell already. Being so close and yet so far from Rehv was killing her.
After checking each of the stalls, Xhex went out and around the corner to the men's room. She knocked hard and put her head in.
The rustling and gasping and pounding sounds meant there were at least one woman and one man. Maybe two of each?
"We're closing," she barked.
Evidently her timing was spot-on, because a woman's high cry of orgasm echoed around the tile and then there was a lot of recovery panting.
Which she was not in the mood to listen to. It just reminded her of her short time with John... Then again, what didn't? Since Rehv had taken off and she'd given up sleeping, she'd had many, many, many hours during the day to stare at the ceiling in her hunting camp and count the ways she'd f**ked up.
She hadn't been back to that basement apartment. And was thinking she was going to have to sell it.
"Come on, move it," she said. "We're closing."
Nothing. Just that breathing.
Sick of the postcoital respiratory-theater group in the handicapped stall, she fisted up her hand and slammed the paper towel dispenser. "Getcha asses out of here. Now."
That got their hustle on.
The first one out of the stall was what she thought of as a woman with crossover appeal. The female was dressed in the Goth tradition, with torn stockings and boots that weighed four hundred pounds and a lot of leather strapping, but she was Miss America beautiful and had a Barbie body.
And she'd been done but good.
Her cheeks were flushed and her overly black hair bed-headed, no doubt both effects caused by her having been worked out up against the tile wall.
Qhuinn was the next to leave the stall, and Xhex stiffened, knowing exactly who the third was in this trifecta of f**king.
Qhuinn nodded to her stiffly as he passed, and she knew he wouldn't go far. Not until-
John Matthew came out in the process of buttoning his fly. An Affliction shirt was shoved up his six-pack, and he wasn't wearing any boxers. In the glowing fluorescent lights, the smooth, hairless skin below his belly button was so tight, she could see the muscle fibers that ran down his torso and into his legs.
He did not look up at her, but not because he was shy or embarrassed. He simply did not care that she was in the room, and it wasn't an act. His emotional grid was...empty.
Over at the sinks, John cranked the hot faucet on and pumped the soap dispenser on the wall. Lathering up the hands that had been all over that woman, he rolled his shoulders as if they were stiff.
There was stubble on his jaw. And bags under his eyes. And his hair hadn't been cut for a while, so the ends had started to curl up at the nape and around the ears. Most of all, he reeked of alcohol, the scent coming out of his very pores, as if no matter how hard his liver worked, it couldn't filter the shit from his blood fast enough.
Not good, not safe: She knew he was still fighting. She'd seen him coming in with fresh bruises and the occasional bandage.
"How long you going to keep this up?" she asked flatly. "This whole wino-slut thing?"
John turned off the water and came over to the paper towel box that she'd just put a spectacular dent in. He was less than two feet away from her as he snapped a couple of white squares free and dried his hands as thoroughly as he'd washed them.
"Christ, John, this is a hell of a way to spend your life."
He tossed the wadded-up towels in the stainless bin. As he got to the door, he looked at her for the first time since she'd left him in her bed. There was no flicker of recognition or memory or anything in his face. The blue stare that had once sparkled was now opaque.
"John..." Her voice cracked slightly. "I'm really sorry."
With deliberate care, he extended his middle finger at her and left.
Alone in the bathroom, Xhex went over to the darkened mirror and leaned in just as the Goth had been doing next door. As her weight shifted forward, she could feel the cilices dig into her thighs and was surprised to notice them.
She didn't need them anymore, wearing the bands only out of habit now.
Ever since Rehv had sacrificed himself, she had been in so much pain, she didn't need the extra help to control her bad side.
Her cell phone went off in the pocket of her leathers, the beeping sound a drain on her. As she took the thing out, she checked the number...and closed her eyes hard.
She'd been waiting for this. Ever since she'd arranged for everything that came in to Rehv's old phone to be forwarded to hers.
Accepting the call, she said in an even voice, "Hello, Ehlena."
There was a long pause. "I didn't expect anyone to answer."
"Then why did you call his number." Another long pause. "Look, if this is about the money going into your account, there's nothing I can do about it. It was part of his will. If you don't want it, give it to charity."
"What...what money?"
"Maybe it hasn't kicked in yet. I thought the will had been certified by the king." There was another long pause. "Ehlena? Are you there?"
"Yes..." came the quiet response. "I am."
"If it wasn't about the money, then why did you call?"
The silence wasn't a surprise, given all that had come before. But what the female replied was a dead shocker.
"I phoned because I don't believe he's dead."
Chapter SIXTY-FOUR
Ehlena waited for a response from Rehv's head of security. The longer there wasn't one, the more she was certain she was right.
"He isn't, is he," she said with strength. "I'm right, aren't I."
When Xhex finally spoke, her deep, resonant voice was curiously reserved. "In the interest of full disclosure, I think you should be aware you're talking to another symphath."
Ehlena gripped her cell harder. "Somehow, that is not a news flash."
"Why don't you tell me what you think you know."
Interesting response, Ehlena thought. Not a he's-not-dead. Not by a long shot. Then again, if the female was a symphath, this could be going anywhere.
Which meant there was no reason to hold back. "I know that he killed his stepfather because the male was beating his mother. And I know that his stepfather was aware that he was a symphath. I also know that Montrag, son of Rehm, knew about the symphath thing, too, and that Montrag was ritualistically murdered in his study."
"And this math adds up to you how?"
"I think Montrag came forward with Rehvenge's identity and he had to go up to the colony. That explosion at the club was to hide the fact that he is what he is from other people in his life. I think that's why he chose to bring me to ZeroSum like he did. It was to get rid of me safely. As for Montrag...I think Rehvenge took care of him on the way out." Long, long, long silence. "Xhex...are you there?"
The female let out a short, hard laugh. "Rehv didn't kill Montrag. I did. And it had nothing directly to do with Rehv's identity. But how do you know anything about the dead male?"
Ehlena sat forward in her chair. "I think we should meet."
Now the laughter was longer and a little more natural. "You have giant brass balls, you know that? I just told you I killed a guy and you want to hang out?"
"I want answers. I want the truth."
"Sorry to channel a little Jack Nicholson here, but are you sure you can handle the truth?"
"I'm on this phone, aren't I? I'm talking to you, aren't I? Look, I know Rehvenge is alive. Whether you're willing to admit it to me or not, it won't change a thing for me."
"Girl, you don't know shit."
"Fuck. You. He fed from me. My blood is in him. So I know he's still breathing."
Long pause and then a short chuckle. "I'm getting a picture of why he liked you as much as he did."
"So will you meet me?"
"Yeah. Sure. Where."
"Montrag's safe house in Connecticut. If you were the one who killed him, you know the address." Ehlena felt a shot of satisfaction as the line went dead quiet. "Did I forget to mention that my father and I are Montrag's next of kin? We inherited everything he had. Oh, they had to get rid of the rug you ruined. Why couldn't you have just killed the bastard out in the foyer on the marble?"
"Jesus...Christ. You're no little nursey, are you."