Lover's Bite. Maggie Shayne

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СКАЧАТЬ pursed her lips. “Besides you? The only people I’ve spoken with are the owners of the villa I rented. But I didn’t tell them who I was.”

      “Could they have recognized you, like Rebecca did?”

      “I haven’t seen them face-to-face.”

      “All right. It’s a simple thing to find out, really.”

      “Is it?”

      He shot her a smirk. “Hello! We’re vampires.”

      “So?”

      “So who wrote the story? Is there a byline?”

      She looked at the piece again, then nodded. “Les Marlboro.”

      “Sounds like an anti-smoking ad. All right, so we find out where this Marlboro man lives, and we pay him a little visit. He’ll tell us who his source is.”

      She shot him a look—a worried look. “I don’t think we need to go that far.”

      “You’re kidding me. You’re okay with letting someone spy on you and report your activities to the press?”

      “I just think there might be a less…violent way of finding out.”

      “I wasn’t suggesting we torture him,” he said. “Much.”

      “We can find another way.”

      He shrugged and turned into the driveway of the villa. “All right, if you insist.” He glanced at the entry door, which stood slightly open. “You’ve had company.”

      She followed his gaze. “Son of a…”

      Topaz got out of the car, slammed the door and strode up the walk. She shoved the front door wide and stepped inside, then stood there, sensing for a presence with her mind even while her eyes took in the mess around her.

      Jack was beside her a heartbeat later. Careful now. They might still be here.

      “No one’s here,” she replied aloud and waved an arm. “Look at this mess. Whoever it was, they went through everything.”

      “Was there anything for them to find?”

      “The file you gave me. My own notes. The DVD.” As she spoke, she moved through the place, checking the drawer where those things had been stored. “Odd.”

      “What?”

      “They left the DVD.”

      He shrugged. “If they have an interest in your mother—or you, for that matter—they probably already have a copy.”

      “I’m going to check upstairs.”

      “I’ll take a look around outside, though I don’t feel anyone close.”

      She agreed, and headed up the stairs to the bedroom she’d been using. Her things had been tossed, every drawer opened, including the one in the bedside stand that had held the one thing she never wanted anyone else to see. Her journal and the little pen she kept with it were still there. That journal held her innermost thoughts. Her secrets. Her vulnerabilities. Every emotion she’d experienced about Jack. The intruder hadn’t taken it, but he might have looked at it. And she knew Jack hadn’t done it, because he’d been with her.

      She felt violated. Red-hot fury came on the heels of that emotion, and she liked that a lot better.

      “Topaz? Anything missing up here?”

      She closed the drawer slowly and turned to face him. “I’ve changed my mind. Let’s pay this Les Marlboro a visit tonight.”

      It wasn’t difficult to locate the man. He wasn’t listed in the phone book, but the paper’s offices were in L.A., which was only a half-hour drive away, and breaking and entering came easily to vampires. Especially, Topaz knew, to Jack. Within ten minutes of entering the building, they had located Les Marlboro’s cubicle and, after rifling the desk, his home address.

      Which brought them to his door. He lived south of L.A., so it was on the way back to Santa Luna. His house was a pepperbox in the ’burbs, but the name on the mailbox was Adams, not Marlboro. She imagined writers with the scruples of this one probably had to use pseudonyms for their own protection. God, she thought, I hope he doesn’t have kids.

      All the lights were off. Either everyone was asleep or no one was home. Jack reached for the doorknob.

      Topaz put a hand on his arm. “Wait.”

      He tensed. His bicep bulged underneath her palm, and she experienced a brief but powerful rush of desire. She’d always loved biceps. They were the sexiest part of a man, in her opinion. And his were sexier than most. Touching them had always turned her on.

      She shook off the heat of wanting him and nodded at the little metallic tag affixed to the siding near the door: These Premises Protected by Sentinel Alarms.

      “Yeah. Look how old that sign is,” he whispered. “When people first get these systems, they use them religiously. Then they get complacent and stop setting them. Even people who do use them tend to set them when they’re on vacation and leave them unarmed while they’re home. Trust me, no alarm is going to sound.”

      “And what if you’re wrong?”

      “I’m never wrong.” He said it with a look and a smile that did as much for her insides as his flexing bicep had. “But if I am, we can be out of here in short order. No harm done.”

      She nodded, knowing he was right. With their preternatural speed, they could move so fast that they would appear only as a blur to mortal eyes. In the darkness of night, even that much might not be visible. “All right, go ahead.”

      He put his hand on the doorknob, focused his attention on it. An instant later, she heard the lock free itself. Then he ran his palm up the surface of the door, past the dead bolt, and shook his head. “He didn’t even throw the bolt.”

      Topaz made a “tsk tsk” sound, then stiffened in anticipation as Jack turned the knob and opened the door.

      No alarm sounded. She glanced at the panel that was mounted to the wall just inside the door, and it read, The Adamses’ System Is Secure. A green light glowed from its face.

      “Not as secure as if you’d armed the darn thing, but still, secure,” Jack whispered.

      She frowned and studied him. “You’re enjoying this.”

      “It’s what I do. I’m good at it.”

      He sounded as if he were proud of the fact. Rolling her eyes, she continued through the house, which was small enough that it didn’t take long. Les Marlboro/Adams apparently lived alone, so that was a plus. No children to traumatize, no mate to contend with.

      They stepped into the lone bedroom and stood there, looking at the sleeping man. He wasn’t badlooking, Topaz thought. Not attractive, but not repulsive, either. Must be his personality that kept him living alone.

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