The Real Werewives of Vampire County
Page 22

“You’re going to help Detective Mead sniff out Sunny’s murderer,” Finnegan said, by way of a rah-rah speech.
Fuck a duck.
“You’ll get the truth out of the were wives of Vampire County.”
As if I wanted to know.
“You’ll blend,” he insisted.
I snarfed out loud. Had he taken a look at me lately?
“We’ll get to the truth,” Finnegan continued, nodding to Lucien, “or else the pack has no choice... .”
“Wait,” I didn’t like the sound of that. “No choice in what?”
“We need closure by the full moon,” Finnegan said.
“Or?” There had to be an alternative. That was only three nights away.
“Or,” Lucien said, as if it were obvious, “your pack will avenge the death.”
Of course. We’d declare war on a county full of vampires. And if the rest of them were like this solid blond wall, we didn’t have a chance. It’d be suicide for pack pride. And I really didn’t want to die. Not for Sunny anyway.
“Okay.” I threw up my hands, remembered I was holding the knife, and sheathed it before Finnegan yelled at me again.
As if I was the one causing the problem.
“I’ll do it. I’ll be the good wife.” Ick. It even hurt to say the word. “We’ll start with Sunny’s old crowd. The Predators. We’ll learn the truth.”
“Good,” Finnegan said, a victorious glint in his beady little eyes.
“But I’m not wearing heels,” I added.
Lucien leaned in from behind, his breath tickling my ear. “You’ll have to do a lot more than that.”
CHAPTER 2
I stared out the tinted glass of the Lincoln Town Car at the even darker night outside and wondered how on earth I was going to pull this off.
No. Don’t think that way.
My newly manicured fingers fiddled with the obnoxiously large diamond on my left ring finger. God. I didn’t even recognize my own hands. “I can do this,” I murmured to myself.
I didn’t have a choice.
A green road sign announced we were Entering Malibu. I smoothed the yellow baby doll dress over my knees. I had everything I needed to play the part.
Six coats of mascara? Check.
Bright red lipstick and matching strappy sandals? Check.
Model-worthy hair? I swear I used an entire bottle of Aqua Net.
We’d had only last night and today to prepare, but I’d been on tougher missions than this. I’d wrangled the truth from a bullheaded minotaur, I’d warned the pack about the Berserker Charge of 2010, and I’d scared the feathers off a flock of angry harpies.
Surely I could face a pack of trophy wives with names like Francine and Tia.
Lucien lounged comfortably opposite me, one arm stretched out over the seat back between us. He wore an Armani suit and seemed like a natural for this job and this neighborhood.
I didn’t know if that made me feel better or worse.
We had less than seventy-two hours to pull this off.
Just breathe.
Yeah, well maybe I could breathe if I didn’t have a girdle mashing my rib cage into my liver. I scrunched my shoulders and leaned forward, hoping for a measure of relief, but that only made me notice the reinforced toe of my panty hose peeking out from my red shoe. I’d tried to stuff the dark brown part under my toes, but it kept inching back.
Oh well, what kind of woman notices another woman’s shoes?
Lucien regarded me with a mixture of interest and distrust. From his piercing blue eyes to the blunt tips of his fingers, a cool power seemed to radiate from him. More than that, he was unapologetically male. A lick of desire slipped down my spine.
“Do you want to go over the plan again?” he asked.
“No.” We’d been over it a half dozen times. I knew my role. And I was willing to do anything, even wear panty hose, to do the job right. It was a matter of pride—for me and for the pack.
His smile was pure sin. “Then stop fidgeting.”
I shot him a dirty look. Oh please. “Let’s wrap you in a sausage casing and see how you fidget.”
The car bounced over a series of speed bumps at the entrance to Eternal Life Estates. We wound through streets lined with palm trees, past the kind of houses you saw on the cover of magazines at the grocery checkout. The landscaping was impeccable, the façades ornate, and the front lawns trimmed down to the last blade of grass.
At least the place looked deserted, except for, “What is that?” I thrust my head between the two front seats. A mass of shape shifters and vampires gathered in the road. As we neared, I could see that they had completely taken over a circle drive lit by torches in the ground.
Like an old-fashioned werewolf hunt.
I double-checked the twin knife holders I’d strapped to my thighs.
Lucien hissed. “I told them we did not want a welcome party on the first night.”
No kidding. “They might have figured out the truth about us.” I twisted around to face him. “Someone probably knows the Dukes.”
Lucien was oddly focused on my thighs.
“We’ll keep our cover.” His steely gaze met mine. “As long as you don’t blow it.”
“Thanks a lot. Nothing like a supportive partner to get the job done right.” This was why I liked working alone. “And stop staring at me like you want to bite me.”
Sure he looked like sex on wheels, but that didn’t mean I was going to serve myself up with a sprig of parsley between my teeth.
His lips parted. “I do want to bite you.”
“Do it and I stake you.”
Why hadn’t I brought a stake?
“Don’t worry, little werewolf,” he said, sending a shiver down my spine. “I’m always in control.” He held my gaze a second longer than he needed. “As for tonight, follow my lead. Remember, the less contact you have, the better.”
Maybe I could find a nice tree branch.
I nudged the hem of my dress to make sure I wasn’t giving any more free shows. “Anything else, your brood-i-ness?”
He cocked a grin. “You said you knew the plan.”
Oh sure. The plan: Keep quiet. Look pretty. I need you until I don’t need you.
I leveled a perfectly glossed fingernail at him. “Keep in mind that you picked me. I’m the best interrogator you have.”
He seemed amused at that. “Interrogator? Yes. Investigator? No.” His voice lowered a notch. “You do not handle the case. I do. You get them alone later and you question them. But for now, you don’t talk.”
“You’re an ass.”
He didn’t react. Stone-cold Luke this one was.
At least he knew what he was doing. According to what Finnegan had told me this afternoon, Lucien Mead was one of the Vampire Council’s top guys. They brought him in to handle tough cases like this—at least ones that could result in war. I had no problem following his lead—as long as he didn’t force it.
I wrangled halfway through the space between the two front seats to get a better look at the doom that lay straight ahead. Oh my God, they had mint tins.
“You are here to be pretty. You are here to be vapid.”
I slammed back into the seat next to him. “Oh yes. Like the time I was too busy painting my nails to wrestle down a banshee and force him to give up the rest of the murdering horde.”
“Heather—” Lucien leveled an icy gaze at me.
“Lay off the tall, blond, and frigid act. I’ve got enough problems.” I rubbed at my eyes, leaving a sparkly blue eye shadow streak on the back of my hand. Great, just great. I wiped it on the back of my dress where no one would see.
“Think before you act.” He planted a hand on the seat back behind me. “You are the only one who can learn the truth and prevent this war.”
Oh yeah. No pressure there.
He had this whole calm and collected investigator persona down pat. But I was an interrogator. And I was good at my job precisely because I was willing to do whatever it took.
Like pretend to sleep with a vampire.
“Drive casually,” Lucien said to the driver as we drew near the crowd.
“No problem, boss.” The ponytailed driver eased us between two party rental trucks.
“He’s staying in the car, right?” The guy looked like he should be working as a bouncer at a nightclub instead of driving a pair of pretend socialites. He also needed a shave.
The driver cocked his head toward me, silver rings piercing his right eyebrow and a black spike earring dangling from his left lobe. “His name is Vinny,” he drawled with an unmistakable New Jersey twang, “and you bet your ass I’m getting out.”
“Vinny is my daytime eyes and ears,” Lucien explained.
“Vinny would never even make it through a metal detector.”
“Oh yeah? Fine.” Vinny turned around and I about fell over as his hair shimmered from jet-black to white. Not only that, it shortened into a close-clipped haircut.
The scent of wood and grass filled the car. “What the—” I watched Vinny’s hands on the wheel age right in front of my eyes. His black T-shirt morphed into a silver suit jacket. His scraggly near-beard faded. By the time we parked, he looked like Jeeves the butler.