Page 59 of Betrayed in Blood
Decker trotted up to Devon, and they strode back to the security gate. Devon didn’t look down, but he wanted to. He had no doubt Decker was trotting with his head tall and his tail waving back and forth. His one strike at Venizi. May he have many more.
ChapterSeventeen
I strippedout of my gear and took a shower. If I’d known teasing Venizi’s vamps would be that much fun, I’d have offered suggestions to Bella weeks ago. I hadn’t expected the local gang to be so helpful, but then Levi mentioned El Lobo held Friday street parties, hauling out the coolers of beer and the grill mid-afternoon and dragging everything back to the clubhouse well after midnight. The gang was responsible for the carne asada street tacos while the vamps grilled organic hamburgers and brats.
I laughed when Levi said the vamps went completely vegan all week in preparation for the party. Since it lasted so long into the evening, all the vamps were able to attend either before or after their guard duty. The weekly event had built camaraderie in the neighborhood, and then Bella mentioned that much of the contract work on the safe house was performed by various El Lobo members. It was a win-win that Venizi would never understand since he considered humans only one step above shifters in his species ranking.
Devon wanted to meet with the cadre after the incident at the safe house to discuss more security changes to ensure El Lobos and the rest of the neighborhood were notified of future issues. Whether the gang wanted to get involved or not was up to them at that point. When I’d heard Sergi had several options he wanted to review, I begged off with the excuse I didn’t want to let Lyra down by missing our planned happy hour, especially with her missing Hamilton so much. Devon saw right through my ruse, but he simply kissed my cheek before disappearing into his office.
I towel-dried my hair, leaving it to dry on its own, and put on leggings and one of Devon’s shirts I’d pilfered from his closet. I cycled through them, changing them out when his scent faded. If he noticed, he never said anything. I wore them when I was alone in my room, the smell of cinnamon and cloves reminding me of the first time I’d seen him, and the memory always comforted me. It was strange I felt the need to wear one now.
I grabbed my phone and sat on the bed, my back against the headboard as I checked messages while waiting for Ginger. I wasn’t expecting any, but sometimes Harlow or Trudy checked in. What I was hoping for was a message from my mother.
There was one from Harlow, and I laughed out loud when he mentioned working a job with Calypso. That was always a trainwreck. Calypso ran a small crew on the north side of town. She was never prepared, usually had bad intel, yet somehow never got caught. Harlow typically ran a job with her about once a year and always swore never again. But a job would come along that was too good to pass up, and he’d give in.
It was surprising he risked it, considering how much money they’d accumulated from the few jobs he’d worked with House Trelane, but Harlow was always saving for that island getaway. They’d also moved to a nicer neighborhood, so rent was steeper. Based on his cryptic message and foul language, nothing had changed with Calypso, and they’d barely gotten away. Sounded about right. At least they were safe.
I was considering trying Mom, even though she told me not to, when my phone pinged. A text from an unknown number. Worried it might be my mother contacting me, I opened it.
Rasmussen is in trouble and needs your help.
I stared at it.What the fuck?
I was still staring at the phone, my brain frozen seeing my father’s name on the screen, when the door popped open.
“I hope you’re in the mood for margaritas,” Ginger called out in a sing-song voice as she strode through the door. “I just made a pitcher in Lyra’s kitchen. She should be down in a minute, and Cook is sending up some food.” Ginger stopped when she caught my frozen stare. “Cressa? What’s wrong?” She set down the tray and raced over.
I stared up at her, but I couldn’t seem to get any words out.
She glanced at the phone I gripped in my hands. “You’re worrying me. Is it your mother?”
I managed to shake my head and finally spit out, “My father.”
Ginger pried the phone from my hand, but I didn’t put up much resistance. She scanned the message. “It’s from an unknown number.”
I nodded and stared out the window. What kind of trouble would he be in? Had someone discovered he was a dreamwalker?
“I didn’t think anyone knew about your father.” Ginger sat on the bed. “Cressa, do you hear me?”
“Here I am. I brought another glass in case Anna finishes her work early.” Lyra waltzed in, and somehow, through the haze of neurons bursting in my head, I noted her good mood. “What’s wrong?” She set down the glass and rushed over. “Did she get hurt on the raid?”
“No.” Ginger handed her the phone. “I think we have a problem.”
Ginger handedme a glass of her specialty margarita, and it cleared the daze. Now the three of us sat around the fireplace where I’d curled up on one end of the sofa, thankful for whatever possessed me to wear Devon’s shirt.
The soft scent of Devon calmed me while Ginger and Lyra set out plates from the tray Cook had sent up. The aroma of something spicy snapped me into the present.
“That smells great.” I sat up and glanced around, rubbing my head, my hair still damp. “I’m sorry. I think I lost it there for a moment.”
Ginger glanced at Lyra. “It was more than a moment, but as long as you’re with us now.” She pushed a plate of mini burritos and street tacos toward me. Cook must have heard about El Lobo. “Eat something, or that margarita will drop you back to Oz or wherever you went.”
“Who’s Rasmussen?” Lyra asked.
I glanced up. “Didn’t Ginger tell you?”
“No. She wanted to wait until you could participate in the conversation. I take it this person is someone important to you.”
“He’s my father.”
