Page 2 of Redeemed
“Not much.” Connor opens his laptop, tapping the table with one finger. “I got an email from beyond the grave.”
I set the shaker down with a click. “From whom?”
Trajan’s too stiff and Connor’s smile is grim. “Adam Smith.”
“Fuuuck.” Adam Smith, former supernatural liaison to the LAPD and part-time murderer, fell under the shadow of Connor’s bodach form and departed for the great beyond. “What does that even mean?”
“The night we went to the cemetery I asked him if he had a list of all the vampire sires in the Los Angeles area, and he said he’d let me know.”
“Wow. He takes his commitments seriously.” I realize Connor and I are the only ones talking. Trajan’s with us, right? “Couldn’t you just have asked our in-house vampire?”
“Yeah.” Connor swipes the hair back from his face with a sheepish smile. His hair is almost long enough for a ponytail and although he shaved the other day, he’s back to a Miami Vice stubble. “I don’t remember why I asked Smith first. The request made sense at the time.”
Trajan stirs. “There’s Loralie D’Ambrosio. She and her trio have lived off the old blood in Pasadena since ’89.”
“Is that 1889 or 1989?” My smile is the picture of innocence.
Trajan doesn’t blink. “The first one.”
“Do you know Roland FitzEustace, Viscount Baltinglass?” Connor asks.
That earns a snort from the vampire. “Rollie’s a fucking poser.”
“So, yes.” Connor makes a note.
“Last I heard he and his harem were stalking Venice Beach. Jacques and Rollie have hated each other for over a hundred years, so he’s probably your best bet.”
I stab the steak with a fork, tenderizing it. “Best bet for what?”
“Figuring out how to break Jacques’ hold over Trajan.” Connor speaks low and keeps typing. The sudden upsurge in tension raises the hairs on the back of my neck.
Trajan’s eyes are so dark he could be wearing those shades again. “I’m not sure it can be done.”
My wolf rumbles at his words, adding heat to my verbal clapback. “Of course it can be done. You’re pack. We’ll figure it out.”
“He’s right.” Connor gives Trajan a measured look and slides the laptop over so he can see it. “Tell me who else we should talk to.”
Trajan’s busy looking at his fingernails. “Start with Rollie, although call him Lord Baltinglass, and then look for Delia Packard. She’s got this huge house right in Rolling Hills, but as far as I know only a couple of her scions are in the area. She’s older than Jacques by a few years and while she probably has more children than all of them, she gives them almost complete independence. They’ll come if they have to, but she rarely calls.”
I heat the broiler and turn my attention to the salad. I sense Connor’s exhale from across the room, but out of the corner of my eye I can see that Trajan’s still sitting too stiffly. “Anybody hungry?”
Neither answer me.Damn. I’d been hoping for dinner-as-foreplay, but something’s definitely off. Connor’s absorbed in his screen and Trajan’s absorbed in his own navel, as near as I can tell. I chop tomatoes and try to find a way in.
“Let me talk to them first.” The words burst out of Trajan, startling me so badly I almost slice my thumb.
Connor fixes him with a hard stare. “That oughta go well.”
“You know less than you think.”
I feel like I’ve walked into a conversation that’s been going on for a while.
“Come on, Tray. You can’t seriously think asking a vampire sire how to break with Jacques won’t have consequences.”
The way Trajan shrugs reminds me of the semi-despondent guy who met me at LAX.
I set the knife down before I use it on something other than tomatoes. “Okay, here’s how tonight’s going to go.” I rifle through drawers until I find a towel for my hands. “I’m going to text Sheena so she can keep you company while Connor and I chat up our neighborhood vamps, and then we’re all going to make use of that premium king-sized bed.”
There’s a long silence. I keep my chin up to show I mean it.
