For Love or Vengeance (6 page)

Chapter Nine

Helene’s breath became trapped in her chest as Miguel closed the distance between them and covered her mouth with his.

Craziness
, she thought for a millisecond before all that he was—all that goodness and honor and sexiness—made her lose her head. Her supposedly more powerful refined goddess senses didn’t stand a chance against the wonder of his kiss.

He moved lightly against her mouth, an invitation rather than a command, as if knowing the latter would have been refused. Tentatively she accepted, meeting the sweep of his lips and deepening the contact. She opened her mouth to taste him and permit his exploration as he eased the tip of his tongue in to graze hers.

She moaned with need and the unexpected desire he aroused. The sound was loud in the quiet of the room. So loud it awakened them from whatever insanity had possessed them, breaking them apart.

They were both breathing heavily as she stood there, her fists clenched against the desire to reach for him again.

Someone walking in might have assumed they were fighting. And maybe they were. She was definitely fighting—for control.

He spoke first. “I’m sorry, Helene. That was out of line.”

“No need to apologize. We’re both adults and desire is a natural thing,” she said, attempting to downplay her fear that it had been much more than passion that had brought them together.

It worked. Miguel wasn’t the kind of man who indulged in desire just for desire’s sake. That would be too shallow. His lips—those mobile, engaging lips that had only seconds before brought her such pleasure—became a pencil-thin line.

“It won’t happen again,” he said, and before she could utter another word, he stalked from the room.

“You look like you could use another,” Foley said, and nudged one more shot of tequila at her. “This one’s on the house.”

She shook her head and smiled. “I warned you the other day, Daniel. All the sweet-talking and liquor in the world are not going to get you a taste of me.”

A devilish grin swept onto his lips. “A man can try, can’t he? After all, I’ve got nothing to lose.”

“Man? A vamp, you mean. As for losing—” She picked up the shot and downed it in one gulp. “It could get expensive to keep giving me free shots.”

Foley crossed forearms on the bar, the grin still alive on his face. “And why would I keep giving you free shots if they’re not going to get you in my bed?”

She raised one brow and shot him a playful glare because there was just something about Foley that inspired lightheartedness. Or at least this Foley. She had learned his story during her last visit to the Blood Bank and knew he hadn’t always been this way.

Foley responded with amusement. “Oh, right. I forgot you could turn me into a toad or melt me with the light of a thousand suns, Nemesis.” For good measure, he raised an arm to his forehead and struck a theatrical pose.

“My name’s Helene.”

“For the moment, my love. When you go back to Olympus—”

“I’ll never go back,” she cut in, and shot him a glare, laser-sharp and hot with anger.

He held up his hands in apology. “Sorry, Helene. Forgot about the daddy issues.”

“I think I’m hungry. Care for some Chinese?” she asked, and watched the color drain from his face.

“I guess I deserved that,” he said, and turned to walk away.

She grabbed hold of his hand. “No, wait. I’m sorry,” she said. Seemed like she was saying those words more often in the last week than she had for centuries.

“Me too. We shared some confidences, and—”

“And maybe that was a mistake,” she finished for him.

He surprised her with a reassuring squeeze of her hand. “What I was going to say is that I shouldn’t have used it against you. As a dig. Friends don’t do that.”

Helene eyed him warily, even released her second sight to confirm his state of mind. One hundred percent repentant. Totally truthful. A trait she hadn’t encountered very often, especially in men. And yet, here Fate had plopped two incredibly honest men in her lap within days.

“Are we friends, Daniel?” she asked. In all her life, she’d had no real friends. She hadn’t realized before this week just how lonely her existence had been.

Foley smiled and slowly nodded. “We are, and I can see from your expression—” he raised his hand and circled a finger around her face—“that’s all we’ll ever be, because there’s another man in your life.”

With a puff of breath, she chuckled at his comment. “Another man? Can you see a mortal handling me?”

Gently, he brushed some curls back from her cheek. Just as Miguel had done earlier. “He’s already touched and tasted, Helene. I imagine you’d let him do it again if he tried it again.”

Which, unfortunately, he wouldn’t.

Foley stepped away, picked up a bottle of Cuervo and a shot glass, and returned to where she sat at the bar. He set the glass beside hers and refilled both of them.

He motioned to the shots. “Let’s drink to our confusion.”

Confusion. An apt way to describe the storm of emotions she’d been experiencing lately. And as peaceful as Daniel seemed on the surface, she’d realized from their night of shared secrets that beneath the calm, he was still troubled.

“To new…friends, Daniel.” She raised her glass and he picked up his, but leaned forward and whispered, “It’s Foley in here. Don’t want the locals getting too familiar.”

“Foley it is, then,” she said, and downed the shot.

The heat of the liquor warmed a path down to her stomach, though the alcohol didn’t do much to her system. Like vampires, there was little that truly affected her. It was more the camaraderie of it, sitting there watching the world go by. Finding a friendly face and sharing with an unlikely ally.

She enjoyed sitting there talking with Foley and having a drink. Listening to one of his tales of woe—namely that he was thirsting after another bite from the lover of a friend. A woman who had saved his life, but belonged to someone else.

“Love’s a bitch, Foley,” she said, and he reared back in surprise.

“Love? You think I love her?” he asked, looking seriously disturbed by the possibility.

“I think it’s about more than another bite of something tasty. There are lots of tasty bits in here.” Helene swiveled in her seat and waved in the direction of the dozens of women in the bar who would surely satisfy Foley’s blood lust.

Foley glanced around, but with a shrug he said. “Girls, one and all. Once you’ve had the taste of a real woman…”

She understood. She’d had her taste of a real man tonight and the flavor lingered. So strongly that, as Daniel had guessed, anything else was second best.

This time she was the one who grabbed the bottle and refilled the glasses. “Drink up, my friend. Maybe we can wash the taste from our mouths with this fine liquor.”

Chapter Ten

The elevator doors opened and even from across the room Miguel felt Helene’s presence.

Didn’t she ever sleep? Then again, he could ask himself the same thing. Lately, the answer would be, “No.”

His lack of sleep last night had not been about guilt-filled nightmares, but about the current case—and Helene. A lot about Helene. And the craziness of their kiss. After that brief encounter, it had taken him hours to drive her from his thoughts. When sleep had finally claimed him, so had nightmares about the case, sinking their teeth deep into his mind and refusing to let go.

Miguel had thought about their kiss as he pounded the pavement during a quick jog in the early morning hours. He had wondered how she’d be this morning—playful or withdrawn? Open to moving into another phase in their relationship?

Or would she reject him? He could understand if she did. They were working on a difficult case and needed to focus.

Which he’d somehow managed to do during his jog, pushing away thoughts of Helene to concentrate on the investigation. His mind had been tattooed with pictures of the victims and their poses. Poses he knew were a key to finding the killer, if they could only unlock their meaning.

“G’morning,” he said as he approached her desk.

A slow, calculated raise of her head communicated her state of mind even before the words left her mouth. “What’s so good about it?”

He didn’t take the bait. “Have we heard from the telecom provider yet?”

He walked to his desk and set down his coffee and the brown paper bag with his bagel. Before she answered, which was likely to cause a twist in his stomach, he tore open the bag and unwrapped the bagel, intent on finally eating one of his breakfasts.

“Not yet. It’s still too early,” she said, and turned to look pensively toward the long wall of windows at one end of the room.

The days were growing shorter with the coming of autumn and beyond the glass, it was still dark outside. Dawn wouldn’t be for another hour or more. He glanced at his watch. Five o’clock.
Five o’fuckin’ clock
. He’d had less than a few hours’ sleep last night.

Had she slept at all?
Had she thought of him the way he had her?

He studied her for a moment, and realized she looked fresh and alert.

Apparently not
.

Their gazes connected briefly and she seemed about to say something. Instead, she just picked up her cup of coffee and went back to her papers.

He did the same, taking a sip of his java. He would need that cup and more to keep him going through the day.

Shifting aside his own coffee and bagel, he opened the case file and decided to review his notes on the various locations they had visited. The dump site of the latest victim stuck with him, maybe because, as Helene had pointed out, the buildings were so unique. Killers didn’t usually pick such conspicuous places, unless they were somehow tied to the act itself.

For good measure, he printed out one of the NYPD photos of the crime scene location. Then he did the same for each of the first four victims. He realized every one of the locations was either unique or close to another building or object that caught his interest.

By the time he finished his coffee and bagel, he had photos to add to those in their war room. He walked over to Helene’s desk. “I think I’ve got something. Want to talk about it?”

She leaned back in her chair and met his gaze. “Sure. In the war room?”

With a bob of his head, he took off with photos in hand. From behind he heard the
click-clack-click
of her high heels as she followed. He went straight to the bulletin boards where they had tacked up the photos of the posed victims.

Helene stood a few feet back, the distance telling. Normally, she would have stood right beside him, needing to be in the midst of things.

Was she afraid to be close again because it might lead to a repeat of last night’s kiss?

After he finished pinning up the photos, he tossed out his theory. “There’s something eye-catching about all of these locations. Tell me what you see.”

She brought her hand to her mouth and rubbed her upper lip thoughtfully as she studied the photos. She pointed to the photo for victim number two. “The hull of a ship. The
Intrepid,
I’m guessing, from the battleship gray.”

“That’s right,” he confirmed.

Cocking one hip, she slapped her hand on it and tapped her lip again,
tap-tap-tap.
“All those fire escapes. It’s almost like art, the way they appear behind the body.”

He nodded, and rapped on the photo from the last homicide with a knuckle. “And the castles you already pointed out, princess.”

She shot him a warning glance, but a smile played on her lips. “Watch it, partner.”

Taking back a step, she focused on a photo of a lower West Side pier. In the background was a collection of New York Sanitation Department buildings. He wasn’t sure if they’d be considered unique enough to rate with the views on the other photos.

Helene apparently didn’t think so either. She wrinkled her nose as if she were smelling the trash. “NYSD garages? That doesn’t seem to fit.”

With a heavy sigh, he agreed. “No, it doesn’t. But maybe the killer thought so. Whatever he’s saying with these poses, locations may be a key. He picked these places for a reason.”

She nodded. Walking to the bulletin board, she added the locations to their profiles, then went to the map and wrote down keywords for each location.

Battleship.

River.

Fire escapes.

Castles.

Garbage dump.

“It’s a start. A good start. Nice work,” she said, and turned to him, the tiny smile that had been on her lips now full-blown and welcoming. Totally accepting.

He smiled back. “It was your view of the buildings that got me thinking.”

Helene hid the pleasure Miguel’s words brought. Could he be that selfless?

She thought back to all her former partners, who were only too willing to claim all their successes for themselves.

But then, if Miguel had been anything so far, it was surprising. Maybe because he was a regular Joe, as he’d said. One who didn’t need glory and fame. One who was content to do his job because it was the right thing to do.

One who deserved to have a happy life with the right woman.

Which wasn’t Helene.

Damn if that didn’t bring an unbidden pang of jealousy, which made her put up her guard. “It’s progress, but not enough.”

His cell phone began to ring. He glanced at the number. “Might be the telecom company.”

It was, and she watched him nod and provide the person at the other end with his e-mail address. When he ended the call, he said, “They’re sending us the names of the two buyers for the phones.”

“But those two could have resold them,” she reminded him. “Still. A little more progress.” She hoped with everything they’d put together so far, they would soon have a break in the case.

With a nod, Miguel approached her, clearly hesitant. “About last night.”

She raised a hand to silence him and stepped away. “It’s already forgotten,” she said, wishing it were true.

The corner of his mouth tilted up in a crooked smile. “You’re not a very good liar, princess. But fine. We’ll leave it at that.”

He strode out of the room, his hands jammed in his pockets. She hadn’t noticed that before. Was it because he was afraid he might touch her again? Just as she’d avoided getting near him because she wasn’t sure she could trust herself either.

But she had to put the desire away. For starters, goddesses didn’t mix with humans. That had only created havoc and discord in the past. Case in point: Artemis and Orion. Not to mention the consequences of mixing mortal and immortal. Half-breeds never fared well. Just look at poor Achilles.

There was no time for desire, let alone the insanity of an affair with her partner. She needed to concentrate on the case.

She pivoted back to their boards. Smiled at their latest progress. Only a small lead, but it would be enough. She knew it in her bones.

Justice would soon be served.