As tires screeched down below, and car doors started opening and closing, the male stopped talking. And stayed that way.
“So you know what it is,” she said with hope. “You know what I’m looking for—”
“Sure, I know what a book is. It’s two hard covers with some flimsy stuff bound in the middle. Words are written on the pages in even lines, unless it’s illustrated. And sometimes they have cuss words in them, like what the fuck are you talking about.”
The growl that rolled out of Shawn made it seem like maybe his name was short for something like Shawn-ado. And she wheeled around and pegged him with hard eyes.
“I do not need your help.” When his nasty stare stayed locked on the other jackass in the parking garage, she batted at his chest. “Hey, Shawn. You can leave now—”
Annnnnnnnd that was when a bunch of human cops burst out of the stairwell, guns up and blinding flashlights pointed straight ahead.
As Shawn dropped another f-bomb, and the vampire in the mink coat threw up his hands, Mae shielded her eyes with her arms—and was very clear on the fact that, probably for the one and only time in all of their lives, she and these two males were in complete agreement.
Fuck was right.
• • •
As Rehvenge was hit with a retina-busting beam of LED, he was so not feeling the female with the bright ideas about something she needed to avoid like the plague. He was also totally annoyed by Shawn and his he-man posturing—although that was mostly because the fight had been forfeited and now Rehv had twelve kinds of headaches to look forward to as he settled up with the bettors. But the police? Well, those boys and girls in blue ticked him off.
He had enough problems without them interfering.
On that note, he froze the trio with the shields where they stood. As a symphath, reading their emotional grids was both irresistible and a blink-of-the-eye kind of thing: The woman on the left was highly anxious, a new trainee still getting her feet under her; the man in the middle was completely calm, a veteran who had seen pretty much everything; and the guy on the far side was hiding something from everyone around him.
“Be of ease,” Rehv commanded.
In a coordinated dance, they lowered their flashlights, turned off their body cameras, and reported to their shoulder communicators that there was nothing out of order on the sixth floor, nothing wrong, nothing going on. Whatever had been happening here had wrapped up. The call-ins had been incorrect or it was another case of a false report to divert resources.
Probably a bunch of kids, playing around.
Stupid kids.
One by one, they turned around, and they were chatting casually as they reentered the stairwell in single file: The woman had had a Reuben for dinner that wasn’t sitting well with her, the guy in the middle was worried about the closing on his new house, and the man who was bringing up the rear was hoping to get his overtime approved.
Ah. He was saving up to buy an engagement ring for his girlfriend. That was what he was hiding—and how nice it wasn’t kickbacks or some shit.
So fucking sweet.
As the steel door they’d come through slammed shut into its jambs behind them, Rehv looked at the pair of vampires. Who’d obviously just fed from each other. He could scent it in the air.
“Are you sure you two aren’t together?” he said to the female to distract her. “Isn’t he yours?”
“No!” She fiddled with her purse. The collar on her sweatshirt. Her left sleeve. “He’s not—Jesus, we just met—I mean, we did meet. But I don’t even know his name. Or didn’t until you came—what was the question—”
While she babbled, Rehv went in and checked out her emotional grid—and what he saw was bad. Very bad.
“I don’t know about any book,” he said, cutting her off. “Sorry.”
The female took a deep breath. “Tallah told me you did, and that you’d know where to find it. She was sure of this—she—”
“She’s wrong.” Rehv frowned. “How is she doing, by the way. I haven’t seen her for years. She was a good friend of my mahmen’s.”
“But she said—”
“I’m done denying facts to you.” Rehv smiled slowly and nodded toward Shawn, who was still steaming with aggression, a vampire clambake of possessiveness. “But you can answer me one thing. If he’s not yours, why did you feed him?”
That stopped the female in her tracks. “He was dying.”
Rehv laughed a little. “Let me get this straight. You come here looking for some kind of bestseller, run into this flyboy, and when he springs a leak”—Rehv indicated the oval blood carpet on the concrete—“you risk your own life to save his? ”
“I did what anyone else would do.”
No, Rehv thought to himself. You had your own reasons for giving him your vein, and whatever they are, they’re making you desperate.