Lizzy Ford (12 page)

“It wasn’t us. We’d never send some poor Natural where you could reach them. We cleared Naturals out of the area within five miles of you,” Gerry said firmly. “You have a name?”

“First name only.”

“It’s a starting point.” Gerry pushed off from the table and rolled to one computer. “What is it?”

“Jessi.”

“Male or female?”

“Female.”

Gerry glanced at him then typed the info into the computer. “Why not pry the information out of her mind like you do everyone else?”

“Her talent is the ability to move in stealth mode. As in, I can’t read her mind. Or hear her or smell her or sense her, unless she’s standing within three feet of me,” Xander said in irritation.

“Then unless one of us has been within three feet of her …” Gerry frowned. “It’s possible, I guess, that someone’s run across her and catalogued her.”

The computer finished its search. A list of names appeared. Gerry tapped the table for a moment then began sorting the names.

“Approximate age?”

“Mid-twenties. Blonde hair, blue-gray eyes, five foot nine, hourglass shape. Nice ass, if you catalog that.”

Gerry snorted. “I’ve got three women, one Jessi and two Jessica’s, in their mid-twenties. Two are mated to Guardians, one in South America and the second in New York. The third is a newly discovered low-level healer in Detroit. So, negative on our end. Are you certain Jessi is her real name?”

“Fairly certain.”

“Let me search talents. One sec.” Gerry cleared the screen then began a broader search while Xander watched. Five minutes later, he shook his head. “I got nada, even in historical data. If we can’t sense people like her, we can’t track her. What a pain in the ass. Makes me wonder how many like her we’ve missed.”

“Interesting. You didn’t send her. Which leaves Jonny,” Xander mused. “How did he find her if you all didn’t?”

“Too coincidental to be an accident.”

“Someone or something tipped him off.” Something like the Others, whose magic might give them insight into things Xander couldn’t see.

“Would you object to me checking her out?”

Yes.
Xander’s initial instinct was that he wanted no one around the strange human he discovered. She didn’t belong in his world, but she intrigued him. Until he was bored with her, she was his.

“Just to catalog. I won’t interfere,” Gerry added. “Unless you do something stupid like try to vamp her.”

“Not my intention,” Xander said. “You still working the Hollywood circuit?”

“Alas, my ambition to be a movie star has faded,” Gerry said with a wry smile.

“Come by tomorrow at ten. I’ve got a photo shoot. I’ll make sure your new boss thinks you’ve been working for her for awhile.”

Gerry was still wary, and Xander understood why. The Guardians had no reason to trust the forefather of all vamps. To his credit, he had yet to break the agreement he made with them about vamping girls and had returned all but one trainee alive. The trainee months ago made a horrible mistake by choosing to target Ingrid, and Xander didn’t think twice about lopping off his head.

“Alright,” Gerry said grudgingly. “I gotta tell Dusty, though.”

“Go for it. I’m off to hunt.”

Gerry grimaced. Xander rose, more restless than usual. He Traveled to the same club he visited the night before, hungry.

Chapter Five

The doorbell woke Xander the next morning. He spent most of the night up with the woman in his bed then fell asleep after he fed from her, content and sated, as usual. The blonde was sleeping, her naked body resting on top of the covers. He looked her over, satisfied with his latest conquest, then rose, finished with her after one night. Normal vamps didn’t need to feed daily, but he did.

His phone had a text waiting. He grabbed it as he strode towards the door and saw Jessi had anticipated him.

Good morning! Rule #3!

Xander froze in the middle of his bedroom. It was five 'til eight. If she was early, she was on stealth mode. He couldn’t sense her like he did the person at the door. He couldn’t tell if any traps awaited him outside his bedroom door. He was hunted in his own house.

He changed directions and pulled on loose judo pants that settled low on his hips before replacing the red gem at his throat. Xander paused to sense what might be waiting for him then whipped open the door to his bedroom and strolled out.

The microwave was on, and the shirt he thought he’d ruined was draped over the back of the chair in the informal dining room. The second floor smelled of coffee, and his was waiting for him on the porch, where he took it every morning. Instead of comforting him, he was suspicious of the morning routine. He didn’t see or sense
her
, like a ghost was prepping his coffee and ironing his shirt.

Cat sat at the top of the stairs overlooking the main floor, as if to tell him where Jessi was.

Xander went to the porch with his coffee. Another text popped up, worsening his mood.

From me, not Sofi: watch it.
Jule said in the text.

His day was not starting well.

Xander’s senses picked up nothing, but they wouldn’t. The Others were beyond the ability of even an Original Being or a God to sense. There was only one Tracker in existence that was able to pinpoint the whereabouts of a Watcher or Other, the two sets of immortals always at each others’ throats. Six months ago, they lost their ability to move between worlds, mainly because the immortal world was destroyed.

Could a Tracker pick up Jessi?

He heard raised voices from the direction of the front door. Curious, he twisted to see the door, no easy feat given it was on the floor below. But Xander’s enhanced eyesight was able to see one half of the strange interaction.

He assumed Jessi was trying not to let someone in. Xander swung his feet down and strode through the apartment and down the stairs to the ground floor, intrigued by who dared try to push their way into his apartment.

As before, even seeing her, his extra senses didn’t identify anyone stood before him until he was within three feet of Jessi.

“What’s going on?” he asked as he approached.

“Ahh … we don’t want any,” she said quickly and shoved at a hand reaching through the open doorway. She slammed the door and locked it. “It’s all good.”

“What’s all good?”

His gaze went past her to whoever was on the other side of the door. The middle-aged woman was furious and frustrated. She glared at the door for a moment before turning and stalking away, down the hallway.

She had warts. A quick peek into her mind informed him that April Madera – the personal assistant Ingrid hired – was storming off while the Natural Jessi remained.

Jessi was on her tiptoes, peeking through the peephole.

“They’re selling popcorn.”

She
lied.
Xander was instantly interested. So she did know what was going on, despite her sweet appearance. It struck him that she might be lying about the kids and her name to throw him off.

“Maybe I like popcorn,” he replied and stretched over her head to unlock the door.

Jessi faced him and pressed her back to the door to keep him from opening it, gazing up at him. Her face was flushing again, and he saw the signs she wasn’t as unaffected by him as he first thought.

His attention shifted to her, their bodies separated by less than two feet of space. His bite had the effect of enhancing anything he did to a woman. If he bit her, would he be able to read her mind finally?

“Not this stuff,” she hedged. “It’s, um, low fat.”

She was a horrible liar, uncertain enough in her attempts that he assessed she didn’t do it often. It only added to her mystery. He hated being off balanced and felt the need to poke at her, until he was able to figure out what made her tick.

She slid out from between him and the door, and he heard her sigh. She all but fled up the stairs to the kitchen, heading towards the iPad.

Xander trailed, watching her perfect, heart-shaped ass. He sensed secrets in people, and this woman had a ton of them, which was at odds with her clear gaze and the shimmer of innocence around her. He stood outside the kitchen.

He was definitely missing something. What was it?

“Do you want more coffee?” she called.

“No.”

“Um, okay.” She was fumbling with the iPad nervously.

He watched her drop it, the sound of metal on stone preceding her curse by a second. She picked up the tablet and set it on the counter. Restarting it, she rested her elbow on the counter and leaned her chin on her hand, her dark blonde curls sweeping forward. Relief crossed her features as the iPad started right up.

Whatever threat she might be, he could handle it. She couldn’t kill him or hurt him. But she could drive him crazy.

“Rule number two,” he said brusquely and returned to his coffee on the porch. It was eight. Time for his dinner to be sent packing.

As soon as he was three feet from her, he lost all ability to track her. Xander sat on the porch. He drank his mug of coffee and waited. The blonde came down the stretch of beach, wearing even less than usual. She ran in a bikini-style workout outfit. She stopped, stretched and bent over, her bikini top straining to contain her large breasts.

The daily routine of coffee and the blonde eased his tension. A few moments later, he heard the sounds of groggy protest as Jessi roused his dinner and led her out of the apartment.

Xander enjoyed the show. When Jessi tripped his senses, he tensed so quickly, he nearly leapt out of his seat. She smelled like pineapple and brown sugar. Her small hand reached for his coffee pot.

He snatched it. “Don’t touch my coffee.”

She gasped and yanked away, but not before he saw the bruises on her upper arm. Xander’s reflexes were faster than hers. He grabbed her wrist.

“Those are fingers,” he said, observing the length and shape of the marks. “New bruises.”

Jessi pulled away again. She disappeared from his senses. Silently, he began to think he wasn’t going to tolerate the ghost in his house long enough for him to figure out what was going on. Not knowing where she was frustrated him.

“Jessi. Coffee.”

“You just said not to touch it!” she replied from the direction of the kitchen.

“I changed my mind.”

“You can get your own.”

He smiled, not expecting the saucy reply. His mind went to the Guardians, who had at one time GPS-tagged him. They had the technology to track someone like Jessi. He’d pay Gerry’s station another visit later today.

“I can’t take it anymore,” Jessi said a few minutes later.

“What?” he asked.

“I’ll be back in five.”

He twisted, not expecting her to leave. Her blonde curls bounced as she trotted down the stairs. He heard the door close. He turned to face the stairwell, at the top of which Cat sat, also waiting.

Her five minutes took thirty. Xander was pissed by the time she returned, aware he’d never be able to track her down if she didn’t come back of her own free will. The idea he’d never solve this mystery infuriated him, but not as much as the idea she was able to sneak up on him at will.

Jessi was breathless when she reappeared at the top of the stairs. Her eyes went to him, and she paused. In her hands was a huge bouquet of miniature sunflowers.

“You’re not supposed to leave during work hours,” he told her. “And I hate flowers.”

“It’s not a rule,” she replied. “They’re not for you anyway. They’re for your house.” She rolled her eyes and set them down on the table beside the couch. “You’ve managed to strip all the life out of this place. You need more coffee?”

“Yes.”

He stared at the flowers, a sign of disorder in his otherwise sterile condo. She seemed happy with herself. When she left for the day, he’d throw them out. He went warily back to his porch.

“Bring another mug,” he called.

She made a sound of disgust. “You invite that big-boobed blonde up?”

He said nothing. Ingrid had the same reaction every morning. At least something about Jessi was normal. He tensed as she tripped his senses again. She refilled the coffee pot and set another mug on the table.

“Have a seat,” he directed her.

“No, thanks.”

“Sit your ass down, Jessi.”

She hesitated then sat across from him. He poured her coffee. They stared at each other. Her warm beauty and large eyes were at odds with an agenda that couldn’t be good. There were dark circles under her eyes today, as if she hadn’t slept. Dressed simply in a casual, wrap dress and ballet flats, she nonetheless had a body he found beyond appealing.

“Husband do that?” he asked, glancing at the bruises on her arm.

“No.” She smiled. “You wanna guess again?”

The playful challenge in her gaze stirred his competitive edge, the one that didn’t lose and hated being out of control.

“You’re stuck with a deadbeat boyfriend who doesn’t carry his own weight and beats you because he’s some sort of control freak,” he guessed.

“Not even close.” She laughed. “I get to try now. But I get one question, because you got one. If you had friends, would they be men or women?”

“Women,” he said with a snort.

“You’re the product of a single mother, probably raised in near-poverty, based on your simple tastes. Whatever your father did to you and your mother, it was probably bad. You’re somewhat protective of women, even if you refuse to form attachments, and you’re aggressive with men.”

He tilted his head to the side. “Not bad.”

“I cheated on part of that,” she admitted. “I got here early and was reading the highlighted portions of one of your psychology books.”

“My turn again.” He leaned forward. “You were sent here because you have some sort of special skill. You want something I have. Whoever is behind sending you here is probably threatening you, if you don’t deliver.”

The color fled from her cheeks as he spoke.

“Whoever did that to your arm did it as a reminder, which makes me think they’re in a hurry to get whatever it is.”

A thick silence fell. She cleared her throat.

“I gotta feed the cat,” she whispered. She rose and fled the porch.