Nick," I said obediently. It was, of course, ridiculous and sweet at the same time. The last thing I had to worry about was a serial killer. But it was adorable that he'd come by to give me a heads-up.
Unless he was fucking with us because he knew…
No, no. That was the way Sinclair looked at the world, like it was a big ball of mean out to get him. I swore that no matter how old I got, I wouldn't always assume the worst of people. I'd try, anyway.
"Are there any leads?"
"Just between us?"
"Well, us and the
Pioneer Press
."
He didn't smile at my sucky joke. "We've got shit. No witnesses, nobody even out walking his dog. He's really lucky, the asswipe ."
"You'll get him," I said helpfully. Rah rah , the cops!
"Yeah, we will, unless he moves on. But he's going to have to slip up first." Nick's laugh lines suddenly doubled, and he stared at the stained magazine on the table. "And for him to slip up…"
"You'll get him," I said again. "And it was, I have to say, it was so nice of you to stop by. I appreciate the warning, and I'll be careful."
"Yes," Sinclair said, walking to the doorway in an obvious gesture for Nick to leave. Awkward! "It was very kind of you to stop by and warn my fiancée. I can assure you I'll look after her very carefully."
Now, if anybody else in the world said that, it'd seem loving and concerned. When Sinclair said it, it sounded vaguely like a threat. Certainly it was weird enough for Nick to give him the 'raised-eyebrows tough-cop' look.
Then he got up (reluctantly, it seemed to me) and said, "You just moved to the area, right, Mr. Sinclair?"
"No," Eric replied. I noticed he didn't ask Nick to call him Eric. But then, except for my roomies, nobody ever did. "I've been here a long time."
"Oh, okay. Remember what I said, Betsy."
"I will, Nick. Thank you again for stopping by."
"Jess, walk me out?"
She looked startled but gamely jumped to her feet. "Sure. You can check the driveway for us."
"Already did," he said, smiling at me, "on my way in."
Chapter 12
I had my ear jammed so tightly against the door between the parlor and the hall, I probably had splinters in my cochlea. (It was weird how things like my tenth-grade biology report on the inner ear stayed with me for, like, ever.)
"Thanks again for coming over," Jessica said, sounding resigned. I figure I knew why. Nick was about to hit her up for a contribution to the Policeman's Ball, or whatever. I felt bad—Nick's devotion to me
was
a little on the obvious side—but what could I do? What could she do?
"I was really glad to see you were up this late, too," Nick said. "I've been meaning to talk to you for a couple of weeks, but things—you know. Work."
"Sure," Jess said. "What can I do for you?"
"Well, the captain mentioned he saw you at the new
Walker exhibit, and I know you're into that stuff. I don't know if you heard, but—you probably heard—there's a new Matthew Barney exhibit opening this weekend, and I was wondering if you'd want to go.
That'd be really mmm hmmm hmmm bmmm .
"Quite rude," Sinclair commented.
" Shhhh !"
" Bmmm mmm hmmm mmm ?" Shit! They were walking through the house. There were about eight doors between me and the front door.
"Darling, whatever it is, she'll tell you about it the second she returns."
"Yeah, yeah." I turned. Sinclair was in my personal bubble, as usual, looking amused, also as usual. "I was just curious, that's all."
"Nosy."
"Probing," I insisted. "Like a reporter."
He put his hands on my shoulders and picked me up for a smooch. My feet were dangling a good six inches off the floor as I kissed him back, more a distracted peck because I was wondering what the other two were talking about. He nuzzled into the base of my throat but didn't bite, which is about as loving a gesture a vampire can make.
I guess that sounds romantic
Unless he was fucking with us because he knew…
No, no. That was the way Sinclair looked at the world, like it was a big ball of mean out to get him. I swore that no matter how old I got, I wouldn't always assume the worst of people. I'd try, anyway.
"Are there any leads?"
"Just between us?"
"Well, us and the
Pioneer Press
."
He didn't smile at my sucky joke. "We've got shit. No witnesses, nobody even out walking his dog. He's really lucky, the asswipe ."
"You'll get him," I said helpfully. Rah rah , the cops!
"Yeah, we will, unless he moves on. But he's going to have to slip up first." Nick's laugh lines suddenly doubled, and he stared at the stained magazine on the table. "And for him to slip up…"
"You'll get him," I said again. "And it was, I have to say, it was so nice of you to stop by. I appreciate the warning, and I'll be careful."
"Yes," Sinclair said, walking to the doorway in an obvious gesture for Nick to leave. Awkward! "It was very kind of you to stop by and warn my fiancée. I can assure you I'll look after her very carefully."
Now, if anybody else in the world said that, it'd seem loving and concerned. When Sinclair said it, it sounded vaguely like a threat. Certainly it was weird enough for Nick to give him the 'raised-eyebrows tough-cop' look.
Then he got up (reluctantly, it seemed to me) and said, "You just moved to the area, right, Mr. Sinclair?"
"No," Eric replied. I noticed he didn't ask Nick to call him Eric. But then, except for my roomies, nobody ever did. "I've been here a long time."
"Oh, okay. Remember what I said, Betsy."
"I will, Nick. Thank you again for stopping by."
"Jess, walk me out?"
She looked startled but gamely jumped to her feet. "Sure. You can check the driveway for us."
"Already did," he said, smiling at me, "on my way in."
Chapter 12
I had my ear jammed so tightly against the door between the parlor and the hall, I probably had splinters in my cochlea. (It was weird how things like my tenth-grade biology report on the inner ear stayed with me for, like, ever.)
"Thanks again for coming over," Jessica said, sounding resigned. I figure I knew why. Nick was about to hit her up for a contribution to the Policeman's Ball, or whatever. I felt bad—Nick's devotion to me
was
a little on the obvious side—but what could I do? What could she do?
"I was really glad to see you were up this late, too," Nick said. "I've been meaning to talk to you for a couple of weeks, but things—you know. Work."
"Sure," Jess said. "What can I do for you?"
"Well, the captain mentioned he saw you at the new
Walker exhibit, and I know you're into that stuff. I don't know if you heard, but—you probably heard—there's a new Matthew Barney exhibit opening this weekend, and I was wondering if you'd want to go.
That'd be really mmm hmmm hmmm bmmm .
"Quite rude," Sinclair commented.
" Shhhh !"
" Bmmm mmm hmmm mmm ?" Shit! They were walking through the house. There were about eight doors between me and the front door.
"Darling, whatever it is, she'll tell you about it the second she returns."
"Yeah, yeah." I turned. Sinclair was in my personal bubble, as usual, looking amused, also as usual. "I was just curious, that's all."
"Nosy."
"Probing," I insisted. "Like a reporter."
He put his hands on my shoulders and picked me up for a smooch. My feet were dangling a good six inches off the floor as I kissed him back, more a distracted peck because I was wondering what the other two were talking about. He nuzzled into the base of my throat but didn't bite, which is about as loving a gesture a vampire can make.
I guess that sounds romantic
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