Page 35 of Soulmates
We’re sitting around a conference table in a second small office off Stone’s big storeroom. The whiteboard on the wall is covered with scribbles, either a diagram for rewiring a house or instructions for performing an autopsy. Makes me curious about what kind of business he’s running here.
Trajan clears his throat, drawing everyone’s attention. In front of him, there’s a flattened blood bag, and he’s got a hint of color in his cheeks. His hair’s still a mess, though.
“Someone keeps trying to kill David,” Trajan says.
“That’s a problem.” Stone looks at me like he’s trying to figure out why someone would bother.
“It’s either Uncle Brendan…” I give them all a bitchy smirk. “Or else they’re trying to kill you, and I’m just in the way.”
Obviously ignoring me, Trajan turns to Sheena. “Have you heard anything? Anything at all?”
“Rumors of someone on a vampire hunt?” I don’t really think anyone’s after Trajan, but playing that card is easier than owning that my uncle wants me dead. I pick at my faded gray T-shirt, wishing all the clothes I had left didn’t smell like smoke.
“So what’s the deal with”—Stone looks me up and down—“him?”
“Good question.” Sheena’s blond hair is pulled tight in a no-bullshit braid. Her all-black outfit carries a hint of danger.
“Definite issues with his pack, but your uncle, what? Wanted you to sign a contract? That’s not the same level as blowing up a cabin.” Trajan has his hands clasped on the table, resting on his forearms, the whiteness of his knuckles showing he’s somewhere between frustrated and angry. “I mean, those dudes outside the nightclub the night you landed weren’t all that great a threat, and the hotel bomb was so weak, it had to be an attempt to fuck with us rather than do any real damage.”
“What about the guy who shot at us in your condo’s garage?”
The look Trajan gives me is so heavy with…something…I regret bringing the incident up. Which makes no sense. I hold his gaze steadily, willing him to explain.
“Connor,” Sheena says, one quiet word sending a ripple of reaction across the table. Stone’s eyebrows lift, mine furrow in confusion, and Trajan goes rigid.
“What?” Stone breaks the tension. “You got dead guys shooting at you now?” Shaking his head, the troll scoots his chair back far enough to plant his fists on his knees. His thighs are huge, his knuckles like rows of rocks.”Oh, wait. Vampire.”
Trajan drags both hands through his hair, rubbing like his head hurts. “Yeah, well he’s not dead.” He shuts his eyes and I lose my link to whatever’s going on in his brain.
“The guy in the garage looked right and smelled right,” Trajan continues. “Then yesterday, he showed up at the cabin and warned us to leave, right before the shooting started.”
“Mah heergrah.” I’m mangling the accent and don’t even give a shit. “Your ex found us in the cabin?”
“Mo shiorghráwas his name for me, yes. No one else would use it.”
Stone cracks his knuckles hard. “Fuck, man. Soul mates?”
Soul mates?Well, I guess I didn’t figure Connor was calling Trajan cutie pie.
Trajan shoves away from the table and stalks out of the room.AndI didn’t figure Trajan for a drama queen either.
“Give him a minute,” Sheena says, and I glare at her. It’s not like I was going to go running after him. I drop back into my seat.Oh…
“So.” She lets go of a breath so deep, it’s almost a sigh. “Sounds like Connor is not only alive, but he’s made a habit of showing up in awkward situations. Since it’s not clear whether your uncle’s trick and all the other incidents are related, maybe Connor’s the first question we should answer.”
“Yeah, man. Some of my guys probably remember him. I’ll put the word out.” Stone rises to his full seven-whatever feet. I glance at Sheena, not sure if I’m supposed to stand or not.
She flips me a pair of new burner phones. The dull gray devices are still in the packaging. I pry one open, then the other.
“Call me.”
I start to obey her immediately, then stop and glare. She’s used her dom voice on me, and I don’t like it. Her expression doesn’t break, though, so I go back to the phones. When I’ve got her number loaded in both contact lists, she rises, too.
“Tell Tray to keep in touch,” she says.
I’m left alone at the conference table, with the phones and the whiteboard’s weird diagram.I bet my cigarettes are in the car.Finding Trajan’s ex may be the key to all this bullshit, but it doesn’t sound like any fun at all.
OXO
