Page 9 of Heart and Soul
All of the dejected vamps in the office suddenly perk up when this guy appears. The loud chaos settles into a low buzz of anticipation. I join Ren and Darla behind their desks, where we can ogle inconspicuously. “Who’s he?”
“Theo Coltrane,” Darla says between heavy breaths. She tongues popcorn out of her hand while raking her eyes up and down his body.
“He’s the master of Cleveland,” Ren adds with a rapturous sigh as he too digs into Darla’s popcorn tub. “Come to take in these strays.”
“What, he just gets to claim all of Henry’s leftovers? Does that mean Detroit’s now his territory? What if he’s as bad as Henry?”
“Would you rather have the Windsor clan up in here?”
I shudder. “Good point. I just wish we didn’t need a Detroit master at all.”
“Theo Coltrane can be the master of the chains, whips, and handcuffs in my bedroom,” Darby says, chomping vigorously.
“I feel a blood donation coming on,” Ren volleys. And back and forth they go, whispering naughty nothings, reaching again and again for more popcorn. But when I try to reach in, Darla slaps my hand away without even looking.
“Dancing in the sheets,” she says, not missing a beat.
“Do the monster mash.”
“Give a dog abone.”
“Press my upvote button.”
“Shaboink-boink!”
“Rumpy-pumpy!” That last one was a little too excited. Theo Coltrane glances over at us. We duck down behind the computer monitors. Thankfully, the vamp I brought in overtakes his attention. He approaches the Cleveland master with quivering, begging hands, practically on bended knee. “Master,” he whines. “Please.”
I’m surprised to see on Theo’s face an emotion I thought impossible for a vampire: compassion. Raising the vamp to his full height, Theo gently places a hand on his cheek and whispers a few choice words into his ear. Immediately, the vamp is soothed, as though a healing elixir has just coursed through his undead veins. His face relaxes into a blissful smile.
Behind them, Parker Reed makes a discreet check of his wrist watch. The sun will be up in minutes. That gives me an idea.
“You guys are so immature,” I hiss to Ren and Darla. “Imagine how embarrassed you’ll be if your lover boy comes over here and sees this mess.”
With a full mouth, Darla mumbles, “What mess?”
I swat the popcorn tub out of her hands and run away.
Thanks to the truck’s fussystarter, I barely beat Deputy Director Reed to his home under the Ambassador Bridge. I’ve pulled off to the side of the road, just shy of the magical ward that looks like a gate to human eyes, when Reed’s shiny black Mercedes rolls up beside me. I’d love to talk at him through our open windows, but that feels too casual for a distinguished gentleman like Reed. He’s the formal, classy type I would delight in mocking, if not for one thing: he treats me as an equal, even though there is nothing equal about a powerful vampire and a fox shifter. I like him.
So I return that respect by braving the ass-whipping cold to stand outside his window.
“Agent Davies, good morning,” he says, his voice polite but quiet. “You’ll catch your death out here. Won’t you come in?”
Shocked, I glance at the thick concrete walls beneath the Ambassador Bridge. Nora Jacobs lives down there with all her men. Terrance Balfrey, my old boss from club Underworld, owns the place, but he let Nora and her harem move in so they could all be together. It’s the most elite of inner sanctums in Detroit. It’s like the Bat Cave.
Noticing my glance, Reed gives a thin smile. “Into my car, I mean.”
“Oh, right. Yeah, no, that’s okay. This’ll be quick.”
“The seats are warmed.”
“I bet they are. And your heater probably doesn’t smell like butt crack, either. Must be nice.”
His eyes widen ever so slightly. “Hmm, yes.”
Dammit, screw the pleasantries. Jamming fists into my coat pockets, I cut straight to the chase. “I’m looking for a vampire with a black chin.”
“Black?”
