Darkness Calls (6 page)

He laughed.

“Well, okay then, Ms. Reyes,” he said, putting undue emphasis on the Ms. “As a man, it is, unfortunately, an inherent part of my nature to notice a very attractive woman when I see one. So, my apologies for noticing you.”

Diana turned and faced him, searching for a way to counter his last statement without sounding like a total bitch, but he had effectively trapped her. “Touché, Ryder. I can see that I am going to have to watch myself around you.”

Ryder smiled, broadly and unrepentantly. There was something about his smile that tempered her anger and started a slow curl of warmth in parts she'd rather not have warmed.

“Darlin', that is a shame,” he said, and again she found herself jumping as he pulled imaginary strings.

“And why is that, Ryder?”

“Because I was hoping you'd be busy watching me,” he replied without shame, leaving her standing there in openmouthed surprise as he stepped into the elevator. “Coming?” he queried, one dark eyebrow raised in challenge.

L
uigi's was a local hangout for many of the agents and other employees of Federal Plaza. A medium-size, family-run Italian restaurant, it had been there for as long as anyone could remember. It was generally busy, even during the later hours when most regular workers had gone home.

The interior was dimly lit and cozy, with an assortment of tables and booths. The tabletops boasted paper placemats with maps of Italy and tidbits about Roman history. Small votive candles glimmered at each table in an attempt to create a more intimate mood, though they were wasted on the suits who made up the majority of the diners.

As Diana entered, the older woman at the hostess's table threw open her ample arms, embraced Diana and let out a stream of Italian that could have been expletives or endearments for all Ryder knew.

Diana smiled and hugged the woman. When there was a break in the effusive monologue, Diana responded in a halting mix of Spanish and Italian, ending with “We'd like a table” in English. She glanced at Ryder as she spoke and shot him an awkward smile.

The hostess raised one pudgy, but well-manicured, finger and pointed it at Ryder. “A
friend,
yes.
Il suo amico?
” she questioned, putting undue emphasis on the word, which Diana was quick to clarify. Too quick, Ryder thought with amusement, secretly pleased that Diana was affected by him.

“Just a business acquaintance, Mama Isabel. We need to get some food. Good food,” she emphasized, and as she finished, Ryder's beeper went off, alerting him to Danvers's presence in the men's room.

He silenced the beeper and glanced around. The men's room was down a small hall to the right of where they were standing. “If you'll excuse me, I need to make a call,” he said, and took a step toward the hall.

Diana looked at him oddly and pointed in the direction of the bar. “The pay phone is in there,” she replied, and then motioned to his belt where his cell phone was visible. “Or you can use that.”

Ryder glanced at his phone. “Oh, no. The beeper can wait. It was nothing important. I need to call on the facilities,” he explained. Diana mumbled an “oh” and nodded. “Get a table, and I'll find you,” he instructed, fearing that if she waited by the entrance, she'd run into Danvers. If Diana recognized her, it might lead to a lot of unnecessary questions.

He didn't wait for Diana's reply. He knew Danvers was waiting in the bathroom, impatient and ill at ease.

“Hey, Ryder,” she greeted in an artificially low voice. The wealth of her blond hair had been tucked under a baseball cap that was pulled low over her forehead. An oversized jacket, one of his old ones, swam on her slim physique. Loose jeans hid her shape, making it possible for her to pass as a small man, but not if anyone made a point of looking at her. Melissa's face was too feminine to allow her disguise to survive a more thorough examination.

Ryder motioned for her to wait while he checked each stall of the room. They were the only ones in the facilities. He held his hand out to his companion, wiggling his fingers with anticipation.

“Not even a thanks,” Melissa mumbled. She rolled her eyes and unzipped her nylon windbreaker, extracting a plastic bag of blood. “Even got it warm for you,” she groused as she slapped the bag into Ryder's hand and leaned back against a sink as Ryder stepped into one of the stalls and closed the door.

The life energy of the liquid burned the palm of his hand, starting the unwelcome change. His heartbeat accelerated as his fangs elongated in expectation of puncturing the thick skin of the bag. Hands shaking, a fine sweat breaking out over his body from the heat of his bloodlust, he brought the bag to his mouth and closed his eyes, still disgusted by his need after more than a century. As he bit down, the plastic resisted at first, and then the sharp points of his teeth found entry and the warm earthiness of the blood spiced his mouth as some of it escaped the hollows of his fangs and spilled onto his lips. He greedily sucked down the liquid, draining the bag dry in a little over a minute.

When he was done, he was breathing heavily and was light-headed with the strength that flowed into him, enervating every cell in his body. Leaning his head against the metal of the stall, he sought to control his thirst for even more blood. In the beginning, the first Danvers had had to restrain Ryder until he had been able to restore his human self. But after many, many years, he had learned to garner his control.

His restraint had slipped slightly tonight, and he wondered if it was because of Diana. Maybe the hedonistic animal in him recognized the sweetness, the pleasure to be had, in taking a woman.

A very beautiful, very alive young woman. Being with Diana…He didn't want to harbor any long-lasting thoughts of what being with Diana would be like. He couldn't deal with that.

Ryder closed his eyes and took a deep breath to quell any other unwelcome ideas. With his reenergized senses, the heavy lub-dub of Melissa's heart reached his ears. His hackles rose in recognition of her as prey.

He wrapped his arms around himself, his body not his own as he struggled against his violent urges. Against the creature that emerged whenever he fed. Slowly, through the force of his will, the animal in his body quieted, but it was a battle he always feared he might not win. Especially when temptation waited outside in the restaurant.

He unrolled a piece of toilet paper and wiped at his mouth, grimacing as the paper came away with streaks of red. He rubbed vigorously until there were no remnants of his meal and then flushed the evidence. Exiting the stall, he handed Melissa the empty bag. “You okay?” she asked, lifting the brim of her cap so she could get a better look at him.

Nodding, Ryder stepped to the sink, turned on the cold water and bent, splashing his face repeatedly. He cupped his hands and used the water to flush the last of the metallic taste of blood from his mouth. When he stood once more, he met Danvers's worried gaze in the mirror. “I'm okay. Really.”

Melissa hesitated, and in his energized state, Ryder detected the slightly faster beat of her heart. The smell of fear coming off her skin. “Something wrong?” he asked.

“Are you sure about this, Ryder?” Melissa queried, and inclined her head toward the door leading to the restaurant. Had Melissa noticed his attraction to Diana Reyes?

Ryder shrugged. “I need to have some control over where this investigation is going. I have to befriend this woman.”

“You're interested in her?” Melissa asked in surprise.

So she
hadn't
noticed. And he'd almost given it away. He tried to cover it up by saying, “No. I'm not. But…what were you worried about?”

“Not the investigation or the woman, that's for sure,” she corrected quickly, and Ryder couldn't hide his own confusion.

“Really?” he asked.

“No way. It's the restaurant. There's enough garlic here to kill an army of you,” Melissa replied, clapping Ryder on the back in a forced attempt at camaraderie.

Ryder shook his head. She was trying to bring him back to a more human level with her humor. Danvers had learned of his secret only a few years ago, and she was still a novice at dealing with his unusual condition and its demands.

“I'll make sure to watch out for it,” he answered. Taking a step toward the door, he turned, wanting her to be aware of how much he appreciated the risks she took. “Thanks, Danvers.”

Melissa smiled and waved him off. “No problem, but you'd better get going. The fettuccine isn't going to wait for you all night.”

Ryder forced his own smile and stepped back into the restaurant. When the hostess noticed him, she took his arm and guided him to a booth only a few steps away from the main entrance. They approached the table where Diana waited with her back to the entrance, allowing Melissa to leave without notice.

“Sorry I took so long,” he apologized as he slipped into the bench across from her.

“No problem,” she replied. A waiter approached and slid a small, napkin-covered basket onto the table. Diana flipped open one side of the napkin and held out the basket to him. “I took the liberty of ordering some garlic bread to get us started.”

The scent assailed him, and Ryder barely controlled the urge to rear back from the table. He managed to shift away only slightly and hold up his hand in refusal. “I think I'll pass.”

“Gives you
agita,
huh?” she replied, then set the basket in the middle of the table and grabbed a piece of garlicky, cheesy bread.

Ryder watched her take a bite and winced. “If
agi-
whatever means it's time for Pepto-Bismol, the answer is ‘yes,'” he lied.

Diana glanced at him as she quickly devoured the first piece of the bread and reached for another. “No self-respecting New Yorker, even a transplanted one such as yourself, doesn't know what
agita
means, Ryder. So I guess you haven't been here long.”

He shrugged, picked up the menu sitting on the table and answered her from behind the protection of the paper. “I've been here awhile. I just don't get out much.”

“Mmm,” she murmured, sensing evasion in his voice. “Too much work and not enough play has made Ryder a dull boy?” she teased, and wondered where the playfulness had come from. She should not come on to a possible suspect.

He put down the menu and faced her straight on, a challenging grin on his face. “If anyone would know, it would be you, Diana. I suspect you spend more than your share of time at work.”

She shrugged, thinking it was because she had yet to meet someone who interested her as much as work did…until now. Shaking off the thought, she snagged another piece of the bread and took a bite, hesitating before answering. “I work hard, that's true. But I have my group of friends and my family,” she evaded. “How about you?”

“Is your family in the area? I thought I detected a slight accent,” he said, ducking her question, as the waiter stepped up to them, his pad and pen in hand.

“The usual,
bella?
” the handsome teenager said with a wink.

She nodded and returned her menu. “The usual, Rocco.”

When the waiter turned to Ryder, he ordered the fettuccine alfredo. He pressed Diana again once the young man was gone. “So, family in the area?”

“A brother who moved up to New York a few months ago. He's a computer whiz who was working for a new Latino Web site down in Silicon Beach—”

“Where's that?” he jumped in.

“Miami. That's where we grew up,” she answered quickly.

Ryder nodded. “Explains that slight singsong I hear in your voice. English wasn't your first language,” he stated matter-of-factly.

“No, it wasn't. I'm Cuban-American.”

He nodded again and motioned for her to continue with her story. “So why do they call it Silicon Beach?”

“Lots of new dot-coms down in Miami are geared for Latinos, so they've dubbed part of the area Silicon Beach.” She stopped only long enough to take a sip of water and finish her piece of garlic bread. “Anyway, he got lured away by more money and a better title. Some new Latino Web site that started up in New York.”

“It's nice that he's close to you.”

Diana nodded. “He lives with me,” she clarified, and hated how easily that statement had come. Ryder's grin made it clear that he had taken it to mean she was available. She quickly tried to deflect any further queries into her personal life. Or rather, her lack of one.

“Your mom is gone, but how about other family? Are they nearby?” she asked, and regretted it as a fleeting glimpse of sadness washed over his features.

“I was an only child. My father never acknowledged me, so I had no other relatives to speak of,” he lied, feeding her the story that, after so many repetitions, had almost become truth. In reality, he'd had a loving wife and family, but they were long gone. It had been too painful to keep track of his descendants only to watch them die.

“That's a shame,” Diana said, and motioned in the direction of the hostess at the front door. “You see Isabel over there? She and Luigi have three daughters and three sons, one of whom was our waiter. They all work here and, eventually, their kids will work here, as well.”

Ryder laughed in disbelief. “You mean there really is a Luigi?”

Diana chuckled and leaned closer to him over the width of the booth. “Yes. His great-granddad, Luigi number one, came from Italy with his wife and opened this place. His only son, Luigi number two, couldn't cook to save his life, but married a nice Italian girl who could. That son made sure there would be another generation to keep it going by having Luigi the third and five daughters.”

“These people are your friends.”

Diana smiled and nodded eagerly. “When you're new in town, you try to make friends. Especially ones who cook this well. How about you?”

“I have some friends,” he replied, and again she noted his hesitation. Contrary to his statements, she got the impression that he was a man with few emotional attachments. But she couldn't press the issue; Luigi's middle son, Rocco, brought their meals on a large tray.