Twice Tempted (7 page)

From the glare the barrel-bellied policeman threw Maximus and me, we succeeded at blending in.

“I told you people to stay back,” he barked.

I hefted my fake boobs higher in their corseted confines. “My trailer was barely damaged,” I said, pointing at an RV that had the least amount of soot. “Why can’t I go in to get my purse? I need money to pay for a hotel room!”

“You noticed the big explosion, right? Once we finish
our
job, everyone can come get their stuff. Until then, stay with a friend. Doesn’t wolfie have a pack he can call?”

The officer turned to go after his caustic rebuttal, but Maximus’s growl stopped him. Guess he was taking his new disguise seriously.

“You want me to—” the officer began, only to fall silent as Maximus’s gaze flared, mesmerizing him at once.

“Let us through,” he said in a low, resonant voice.

The officer bobbed a nod. “Absolutely.”

There were days when I envied vampires. This was one of them. “Good thing you came. I’d hate to wait and risk them erasing all traces of the killer’s essence,” I murmured as Maximus and I ducked under bright crime scene tape.

Even with the fake hair, I caught his grim expression. “So would I.” Then to the newly compliant officer, he said, “Walk with us. If anyone asks, we’re witnesses you’re interviewing.”

Considering all the policemen, firemen, gas company employees, and other personnel hurrying about, we had a few minutes before we were stopped. With our new escort, we headed to Marty’s trailer.

Even several hours after the explosion, the air was still thick with a mixture of gas, burnt rubber, and other, unspeakable things. I forced myself not to gag, but the urge was strong. So was the urge to burst into tears when I saw the blackened, hollowed shell that had served as my and Marty’s home for years. Half of it was gone, either disintegrated from the ferocious heat or blasted into innumerable parts.

Staring at the ruined husk made the full reality of Marty’s death hit me. A small, foolish part had secretly hoped he’d survived and hadn’t heard me when I was yelling for him last night. That hope extinguished as thoroughly as his life would have when the explosion went off. The destruction was so complete, I doubted they would find enough remains for me to bury. Despite my resolve, a warm, wet trail slid down my cheek.

“Don’t,” Maximus said softly. “This isn’t the time.”

I swiped at the errant tear and squared my shoulders. He was right. Grieving would come later. Now, I had to find out who snuffed out Marty’s life. Yet looking around, I wasn’t sure where to start. The large crater in front of what used to be Marty’s trailer? Farther up the gas line?

“What have you found so far?” Maximus asked. I turned, but the question wasn’t directed at me.

“Last of the fires were only put out a couple hours ago, so not much,” the officer replied in a monotone. His light brown eyes were fixed on Maximus as if glued. “Five dead, three more missing. Gas company’s got the power off so we’re checking the pipes. Found something in the pit near a twisted hunk of pipe—”

“Show me,” Maximus interrupted.

The officer began to walk toward a tented area swarming with people wearing ATF jackets. I tugged at Maximus’s sleeve.

“There’s too many of them,” I whispered.

“Come back,” Maximus told the officer, who obeyed at once. “Get the object and meet us outside the east section of the barricade. Don’t let anyone know what you’re doing.”

The officer left. I followed Maximus to the section of the barricade where there was the least amount of spectators. After ten minutes, the portly officer was back.

“Here,” he said, pulling a bag out from under his shirt.

I took it, my bulky rubber gloves dispelling any fingerprint concerns. Those had been the next priority after Maximus purchased all the necessities for our disguises. Then I held up the bag, frowning. The clear cellophane revealed a few crumpled bits of wire and what looked to be a shard of plastic.

“That’s it?”

The officer nodded. Maximus drew me to a lone hut about thirty yards away. Before last night, it had been a concession stand. Now it was empty, the harsh scent of chemical smoke replacing the popcorn, cotton candy, and funnel cake aromas. I took my right glove off with a sigh. I’d leave fingerprints this time, but I had no choice. Then I stroked the piece of plastic.

The first thing I relived was an investigator finding this shard. From his thoughts, I knew it wasn’t plastic, but titanium, a material sometimes used in bomb making. Underneath that, I had the faintest impression of another person digging in the dark, but the essence trail was too weak. The fire must’ve burned most of the traces away.

“You were right. Doesn’t look like an accident,” I said.

“I knew it,” Maximus muttered. “Did you see who did it?”

“No.”

I stroked one of the wires next, disappointed when the only impressions were from another crime scene investigator. Then I touched the final wire and the concession stand vanished.

I whistled as I pressed the wires into the plastique, then used thin surgical forceps to twine the ends around the trigger. After examining them, I closed the shell over the device and leaned back, taking off my mask. Finished. I gazed proudly at the bomb. By far my best work. Pity no one would appreciate its intricate design, but most of it would disintegrate on detonation. Just as the client wanted.

That image dissolved and I was back in the concession stand with a huge vampire disguised as the wolfman. I smiled at Maximus with a coldness I hadn’t thought myself capable of.

“I’ve got the bomb maker.”

Chapter 10

H
is name was Adrian, and it took two days of linking to him to discover where he lived. One of the drawbacks to finding people in the present was not being inside their heads. People didn’t have their addresses tattooed onto their forearms, so determining their location wasn’t always easy. Adrian didn’t help me out that first day, either. He mostly slept.

The next morning, he walked to his local Starbucks, ordered a double shot of espresso, and then read the news on his iPhone. Twenty minutes later, Maximus and I were on our way to Chicago.

He drove. Chivalry or control freak, I didn’t know, and after several hours, I didn’t care. I’d stayed up most of the previous night trying to determine Adrian’s location. On top of lost sleep, linking to someone for long periods of time drained me. I’d been determined to stay awake in case Maximus changed his mind about splitting up the drive, but at some point between Atlanta and Chicago, I nodded off.

I floated above a white hallway. Doors were at either end, one wide with a computer keypad that a curly-haired woman sat beside, the others so nondescript as to be drab.

That second set of doors opened and Vlad strode through. His trench coat was open, the sides fluttering like dark wings. I gasped, trying to disappear into the ceiling, but he didn’t seem to notice me. He continued down the hallway at a pace that had the doctor behind him running to keep up.

The curly-haired guard rose. “Who are you?”

“Shut up and open that door,” Vlad snarled.

He’d passed by me, so I couldn’t see if his eyes were lit up. Even if they weren’t, the barely restrained violence in his tone must’ve been enough for the female guard. She punched in a few numbers on the keypad and the wide door swung open.

As soon as the doctor caught up, Vlad grasped him by the collar, lifting him off his feet. “Now, show me her body.”

Another snarl that throbbed with the promise of the grave. The doctor nodded as much as Vlad’s fist around his neck allowed. Vlad dropped him, and once he righted himself, the doctor hurried inside the room, Vlad right behind him.

I knew I should leave, but I couldn’t stop myself from floating toward the open doorway. Before I reached it, I heard a metallic creak and then Vlad’s harsh “Now get out.”

The doctor ran from the room, his head passing through my legs as his body briefly converged with mine. My formless state should have worried me, yet I was oddly unconcerned. If I was dead, there was nothing I could do to change that. Plus, as long as I didn’t have a real body, then Vlad wouldn’t know I was here. I floated past the guard, who was huddled behind her chair, mumbling something that sounded like a prayer.

Even though no one had been able to see me thus far, I only peeked into the room beyond. It had several metal tables, a long sink with multiple basins, and a wall made up entirely of what appeared to be square steel cabinets.

Vlad stood next to an open cabinet in the wall. A slab holding a black plastic bag jutted out in front of him. His head was bowed, dark hair hiding his expression as he unzipped the bag. Fire engulfed him from hands to shoulders as he stared at its contents. Then, very slowly, those flames extinguished as he reached inside.

Now I knew where I was. A morgue, and though I had a good idea of what was in the bag, I had to be sure. I floated over, keeping close to the ceiling, and peered down.

My first surprise was how little it contained. A skull, two femurs, and a spine comprised the pieces big enough for me to identify. After that, it was anyone’s guess as to what the other charred, smaller bits were. My next surprise was seeing Vlad stroke the bones. He traced the curve of the spine, the length of the femurs, and then the skull, all with a touch so gentle it barely disturbed them. I still couldn’t see his face, but the light piercing through his hair was so intense that I half expected it to burn the bones like twin emerald lasers.

My biggest shock was hearing him sigh, “Leila,” as he stroked the bones. He thought these were mine? But Vlad was in Romania and I’d supposedly been blown to bits in Georgia—

Wait. Vlad had spoken to the guard and the doctor in
English
. I looked around. The signs were in English, too. Had Vlad gone to Georgia upon hearing of my purported demise?

If so, I wished I knew what he was feeling at this moment! Satisfaction, if he really was behind the gas line bomb? Or grief, if someone else had planted it and he thought this bag’s contents was all that was left of me?

His head remained bowed, hiding his expression.
Look up, Vlad!
I silently roared. If he smiled as he stroked the remains, it would confirm my worst suspicions, but what if grief was etched on his face instead?

Suddenly, he did look up—and seemed to be staring right at me. It still didn’t answer my question. His gaze was so bright that his expression blurred by comparison.

“Leila.”

I jerked, but it wasn’t Vlad who said my name. It was another man’s voice, accompanied by a hard jostle. I snapped into alertness, the morgue transforming into the front seat of a car. Maximus let go of my shoulder, frowning before he returned his attention back to the road.

“Must’ve been some dream. You started trembling.”

I didn’t doubt it. My hands still shook and I kept looking around the car as if expecting Vlad to magically appear. I’d had vivid dreams before, but none had ever felt
this
real.

I glanced at my hands, relieved that I still had my gloves on. They not only kept my currents in, they also kept my ability to accidentally connect to someone
out
. Not that I’d ever linked to anyone in my sleep before. Linking took concentration, and sleep was the antithesis of concentration.

“You’re still trembling. Are you all right?”

“Yeah,” I replied. “It’s nothing. I don’t even remember what the dream was about.”

His raised brow said,
Bullshit
, more eloquently than words, but he didn’t push and I pretended that I hadn’t lied.

“Now that you’re up, link to the bomber. We’re only an hour from Chicago. If he’s not home, I want to know where he went.”

Good idea. I pulled out the pouch I’d stuck in the drink holder and then took off my right glove. We’d returned the plastic evidence bag to the officer minus one piece of wire.

I rubbed that wire, bypassing the first images to focus on the replay of Adrian whistling as he made the bomb. His imprint was as strong as before, but when I attempted to follow it back to its source, I came up against a brick wall of . . . nothingness.

I tried again, concentrating until the traffic sounds faded into soft white noise. Though I focused with all of my might, I couldn’t find anything at the end of that essence trail.

“Is he still home?” Maximus pressed.

Frustration mingled with a sense of foreboding. “I don’t know. I can’t see him. Either I’m temporarily out of juice, or . . .”

I didn’t need to finish the sentence. Maximus’s lips thinned into a hard line. Then he stomped on the gas pedal.

T
he flashing lights, crime scene tape, and stench of smoke were becoming all too familiar. We’d had to park over a block away since the street Adrian lived on was cordoned off. Though I couldn’t see any house numbers at this distance, I’d bet Adrian’s was the one that the firemen were still hosing down.

“Son of a bitch,” Maximus spat.

“Whoever’s behind this must not like loose ends,” I replied, while inside, I cursed. I doubted this was a case of a bomb accidentally detonating while Adrian tinkered with it, though I was sure it had been staged to look that way.

We still had a chance to see what really happened, but we needed to hurry. Even if the killer was still in the area, he wouldn’t be for long.

“Maximus, go down there and get me a bone off the body.”

Confusion flashed across his face. Then he smiled. That was the last thing I saw before he sped away, reminding me of a large, charging lion. Less than a minute later, I heard a gunshot and the whoop of a police siren. Then he was back with a charred hunk of something in his hand.

“Let’s go,” he said at once.

I grimaced at the burnt meat smell. If I survived all this, I might become a vegetarian. The reek didn’t seem to bother Maximus. He tucked the chunk into his coat and walked me back to our car as more sirens went off. The cops probably hadn’t seen every detail of what just happened, but from the sounds, they knew enough to be alarmed.