CHAPTER 7

 

 After Lara left Mick’s warehouse, she was angry. Angry at him for being such a cad. Angry at herself for not kicking his balls up into his esophagus. Angry at Annamarie for continuing to work with him and not taking a hard line on the appropriate treatment of her employees. Angry that she was a real bounty hunter with supernatural powers and more than a few ass kicking skills, and somehow this low life of a man could still make her feel small.

The temptation was strong to blame all men for the state of the world, but Lara was a cupid. She’d seen men so deeply in love that they would give their lives for that person. She’d felt a deep love for men, and even if it hadn’t lasted, at least some of them had been worth her attention. And those that weren’t? Well, she still got something out of the experience. Life knowledge at the very least. The last one had resulted in a new friendship with the other girl he’d been seeing at the time.

She couldn’t blame men, not as a group. She couldn’t let the actions of a few dictate her opinion about them all. But she could entertain delightfully ornate visions of humiliating the crap out of Mick while she angry drove around the back streets of Las Vegas, blasting rap music. That’s what she did for a while, until she could cool off.

It took a while. The urge to tank this whole job and tell Annamarie to find someone else was high. If it weren’t for Vincent, she would have done it.

Vincent. The thought of him cooled her jets more than anything else had, even the angry driving. He was such a strange combination of things. Smoking hot on the exterior, if she was going to be honest with herself. She’d always liked that lone gunman look—the black clothes, slim hips, and chiseled features. He looked like the kind of guy who was sensitive to his lover’s needs in bed but still knew when to take the reins. An intoxicating mix of toughness and vulnerability.

She laughed out loud at herself and slowed down to a more reasonable speed. Obviously, it had been too long since she’d been properly laid, if she was thinking of Vincent like that. The last thing the poor guy needed was her lusting over him atop everything else. He already had amnesia and the whole angel of death thing to deal with, not to mention Ignazio. If Vincent was right, they didn’t have long to find him, and here she was, driving around town like they had tons of time to waste. Normally, she would. She’d have the luxury of holding tight until the target made the first move and showed himself to her. But this time was different, and she needed to quit feeling sorry for herself and get to work.

Energized by the realization, she pulled into a 7/11 parking lot and got herself an iced coffee before pulling up the files on Ignazio. Annamarie had done her usual thorough backgrounding job. She’d posed as Ignazio’s worried mother and had the cops do a well check on his apartment. He hadn’t been there, but that didn’t mean that the place wouldn’t contain clues as to his whereabouts. She ought to check it out.

She plugged the address into her GPS and took off. En route, she dropped a call to Vincent. From the sounds of it, he was in the car when he answered.

“Hello?” he said tentatively.

“It’s Lara,” she replied, trying to keep her mind on business. But now that she’d opened the Pandora ’s Box of sexual fantasies, they just kept coming whether she wanted them to or not. She wondered if all cupids were so ridiculously horny or if it was just her, but of course she had no one to ask. It wasn’t as bad as total amnesia, but it sure was annoying.

“Hey, Lara.” He sounded happy to hear from her. “I was just thinking about you.”

She couldn’t exactly admit the same, even if it was true. “Maybe you’re psychic,” she joked. “I’m on my way to Ignazio’s apartment and wanted to check in. See if you’d like to come with.”

“I would, but I’m actually on the clock. If I’m needed, I could see what I could do…”

He trailed off uncertainly.

“No, that’s not necessary. But I could call you after and let you know if I find anything useful. What time are you done? We could meet up and hunt. See if you can stir up one of your visions. Unless you need solitude and quiet for that kind of thing.”

She wasn’t exactly babbling, but she didn’t usually run at the mouth like this. It was tough to keep on topic, because she kept having these intrusive mental pictures about Vincent and that futon of his. It was unprofessional, and she pushed them away with an effort. She could think of that—and possibly act on it, if she still wanted to—after this job was over. But not before. She had high standards, and she took pride in her work. She wasn’t going to let her libido get in the way of it.

Once she’d come to that conclusion, the whole thing felt much better.

“That sounds great,” he responded. “But I’m not off work until 9, so don’t wait for me. I promise not to feel left out if you find him without me.”

She giggled. “That’s good to know. I wouldn’t want to offend an angel of death.”

“It could be worse,” he said. “I could have a flaming sword.”

They made arrangements to meet at a bar he said was near his work, and signed off with a little more friendly banter. Lara thought it felt pretty good. She’d never had a partner, always working alone with only Annamarie as her contact. But with someone like Vincent, she could see how it might be fun.

 

By the time she pulled up to Vincent’s fancy high rise apartment, she was back to her usual focused self. Her swell of hormones seemed to have subsided—at least for the moment. Now, she was wholly focused on the job.

The building used to be one of the premier luxury high rises in the area—just close enough to the Strip to make commuting somewhat feasible, but far enough away that it wasn’t all neon and drunk tourists. Lara could remember when it was under construction, because she’d had a timeshare about a half mile away. She’d since moved further out into the suburbs and was much happier with that, but she still knew the neighborhood well enough.

In the intervening years, newer and fancier buildings had cropped up, and the Heights fell solidly into the upper mid-tier of apartment living. She could expect that level of security, likely. Cameras in the main areas and stairways, but probably not outside the door. Some kind of security or desk person, and possibly a buzzer system, but hopefully not the kind of set up where visitors had to call up to the apartment first. She took a moment to check the building’s website to see what security arrangements were advertised for prospective tenants and was relieved to see that this wasn’t the case.

Okay, so she’d go in and play it by ear. She stashed a pile of flyers advertising a mock tutoring service in her bag; if she was stopped, she’d explain that she was delivering flyers and possibly get in that way. If not, at least she wouldn’t be memorable. Flyer delivery in an apartment building this big was about as inevitable as death and taxes.

Underneath the flyers, she tucked her little leather pouch of lock picks and made sure that her phone had plenty of memory for the camera. Her leather gloves sat tucked in their inner pocket. It was doubtful that anyone would be dusting Ignazio’s apartment for prints—unless they failed to find him before he killed someone like Vincent predicted. So her better safe than sorry tendencies were even more important today.

It turned out that all of the preparations were unnecessary. The pimply college aged security guard was too busy trying to get a good look at her ass to ask her where she was going. If she hadn’t been working, she might have told him to pick his jaw up off the ground, but as it was, the situation worked to her advantage so she let it ride. Even gave him a little fluttery wave as the elevator doors closed behind her.

Okay, so entering the building was a non-issue. She kept her hands folded in the elevator, not fidgeting, knowing that the security cameras were on her. The security guy might be watching her at this very moment, trying to get a peek down her shirt. She resisted the urge to tug at it and contented herself with turning so the angle wouldn’t be very good.

When the door opened, she exited the elevator with confidence. She’d lucked out. Ignazio’s apartment was all the way down near the end of the hall. No cameras here. She paused at his doorway and knocked lightly just in case he’d come home. No answer. Shielding the view of the door from anyone who might happen to come by, she pulled out her lock picks. The lock was nothing special, just a standard tumbler anyone could buy at Home Depot. She’d trained on much more difficult locks, and so opening this one was simple. It took less than a minute, and she was inside.

First, she took a quick run through of the apartment. This was an awkward part. Once, she’d broken into a target’s apartment only to find his brother was there and hadn’t answered to her knock because he’d been in the shower. She’d posed as a prostitute then and hit him with an arrow when he wasn’t looking. It had been sticky to extricate herself from that one, but she’d managed. Still, she’d prefer not to repeat the situation if she didn’t have to.

Ignazio didn’t have family, at least not according to Tanith Q, but it was still smart to take precautions. She carefully checked each room to insure they were empty before getting to work.

Once she’d cleared the apartment, she got to work. First, she looked through the mail to see if there were any indications of where he might be hiding out. Sometimes, she lucked out and got receipts or reservation confirmations. No luck today, though. Only junk mail on the counter, and no hotel reservation notes or anything on a convenient Post-It. He didn’t have a land line, so she couldn’t check his messages. He did have a fancy gaming computer, and she took the time to take thorough pictures of it. Annamarie might be able to break in and take a look if such a thing became necessary.

Okay, so it looked like she wasn’t going to be able to find an easy answer to his whereabouts, but there was still a lot to be learned here. A few of the games at the computer still had their stickers on them; it might be worth stopping by the indicated game store to see if they’d seen him. The dining table was covered in open books as if he’d been studying hard. Annamarie hadn’t mentioned that he was a college student, but maybe she’d missed something…?

A quick look at the books told her that wasn’t the case at all. In fact, this situation might be a bit more complicated than she’d thought. Every single book was open to a section about succubi.

Lara had worked on a succubus case exactly once, and Annamarie had pulled her from it before she could see it through. It was the only case she’d ever been pulled from, in fact, and it still galled her. Of course she knew not to shoot a succubus. They fed on the life force of their victims through sex, and it would be fatal to have one fall in love with you. Annamarie’s argument had been that while she trusted Lara, a cupid’s talents weren’t the right fit for a case involving a succubus, and she’d put one of the shifters on it. They could hunt anything, and their animal natures gave them at least a chance to resist the succubi’s allure.

Maybe it was a logical decision, but Lara didn’t like feeling railroaded. It would have been one thing if Annamarie had talked it over with her, and they’d come to the mutual decision that another hunter was better suited to take over the case. But she hadn’t even been consulted, and that rankled. She could already imagine what Annamarie would do as soon as Lara told her that a succubus might be involved in the case. Because why else would Ignazio be reading up on them so carefully? These weren’t Hollywood monster books or empty fantasy tomes. These were historical tomes—neatly disguised as works of mythology—that hunters used to record their knowledge about the creatures they faced.

Where had he gotten these books? And was he the succubus, or was he fleeing one? Perhaps his act of thievery had been a choice made by a desperate man who needed the money to get away and save his soul. Lara could understand being driven to act out of character in an event like that. Maybe Ignazio wasn’t so much a thief as he was scared out of his wits.

She took a couple of snaps of the books, frowning grimly. She couldn’t report any of this to Annamarie. If she did, she’d be off the case without any chance for appeal, and then what would happen? They’d send someone else, and then what would Vincent do? Maybe that person would work with him, but hunters in general were a solitary lot. The chance was good that Vincent would be out on his ear without any help, and Lara didn’t want that. That had nothing to do with the fact that she was attracted to him, and everything to do with the fact that her heart went out to him. She wanted to help him find Ignazio at the very least, and answers about his existence if she could.

But she couldn’t do that if she wasn’t on the case. And that meant hiding things from Annamarie for the first time.

Oh, she’d kept a few secrets here and there, but they were mostly of the personal kind. Things said that didn’t pertain to the case. Kisses exchanged in the dark. That kind of thing. This would be a risk, and if she got caught, her job could be on the line. And it wasn’t like bounty hunting firms that were friendly to supernatural creatures were a dime a dozen.

Her mouth firmed in determination. It was the right thing to do, and she would do it. No matter what the consequences were.