Rylie Cruz 2 - How to Date a Vampire (20 page)

“So you want to tell me why you're offering
to take me to Jack? It's some kind of setup, isn't it? You have no
reason to help me. You don’t know me.”

“Look, I already told you it isn’t a
‘setup’, as you call it. Random acts of kindness and all that.
Can’t I do something nice for someone? You're very paranoid. What's
with that?”

“Well, when you deal with as many
paranormals as I do, you tend to not trust them. They can be crazy.
Love makes them do some pretty crazy things.”

“You don't say?”

“I just got rid of a crazy client who
thought he was in love with me and tried to kill me. That’s enough
to make anyone suspicious.”

“So a matchmaking service is scary business,
huh?” He smirked.

“You are a smartass, huh? I should have
known, I mean I did, but this just confirms it.”

He scoffed. “I don't know what to tell you.
I am a nice guy. Ask anyone. They’ll tell you.”

“Okay, nice guy, maybe I’d trust you more if
I knew something about you. Do you want to tell me a little about
yourself before you drag me off to your dungeon?”

“I don't have a dungeon, per se. It's more
of a mini-dungeon. I downsized when I got rid of some of the chains
and torture devices.” He stared straight ahead, not acknowledging
me when I glanced over at him. He looked as if he was holding back
a grin, a glint of mischief in his eyes.

“Funny. You’re a really funny guy. Are you
from New Orleans? How long have you been a vampire?”

“Yes, I’m from New Orleans. I’ve lived here
all my life. I’m one of the younger vampires. I was turned in
1910.”

“Uh.” I glanced over at him. “How old were
you? Thirty?”

“What gave it away? My boyish good
looks?”

I glanced at him and chuckled. “Whatever you
say.”

“You’re very perceptive,” he said.

“Thank you. It’s one of my better
qualities.” I wiggled my eyebrows. “Who turned you?”

“I don’t really like to talk about it.”
Quinton stared out the passenger window.

I navigated the Bug around a corner and
Quinton slid down more in the seat.

“Well, what do you do? As in, do you have a
career, or do you just walk around being a vampire all day?” I
snorted. He deserved my snarkiness for being friends with the
vampires who turned Jack. I didn’t believe his whole ‘helping me’
spiel.

“Close. I own a little café here in town.”
He gestured over his shoulder.

“Really? I’ll make sure to stop by
sometime.” Not. See I could be super sweet polite. I’d have to find
out the name of the place and avoid it.

“I’ll make you a special meal.”

Yeah, I bet he would.

“
Do you know a vampire by
the name of Isabella Blackthorne? She was the one who delivered the
note instructing Jack to go to the French Market,” I
said.

“I know Isabella. She’s a bit of a
firecracker.”

“Good to know,” I said dryly. “Apparently,
she knows Jack from before he moved here. I guess they went to high
school together. She’s a bit wacky, if you ask me.”

“Yes, she is, but I was trying to be
polite,” Quinton said with a bit of a smile.

“Right. Well, she dropped in on me and
wanted me to fix her up on a date, then she showed up at Jack’s
apartment. I don’t trust her. She seems to have a bit of multiple
personality disorder or something.”

“She showed up at Jack’s apartment?” Quinton
asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Yeah.” I glanced over at him. “Why? Do you
think she had anything to do with Jack’s disappearance?”

He paused, measuring his words. “Maybe. It
does seem a bit odd.”

“But the man at the hotel desk said Jack
left with a blonde-haired woman, that doesn’t fit Isabella’s
description.”

“Have you ever heard of a wig? Maybe she was
in a disguise.”

“I guess it’s possible.” I let out a deep
breath.

“I know where she lives. We should pay her a
little visit. I can see right through her. If Jack is there, or if
she had anything to do with his disappearance, I’ll know.”

I steered the car around another turn. “And
why should I trust you again?”

“I’m in your car and I haven’t done
anything, have I?”

“Not yet.”

“We should at least try,” he said.

“If you say so, but what if it’s all for
nothing and we’ve wasted time? Jack could be in great danger right
now.”

“What if it isn’t all for nothing? I think
we owe it to him to check with her first. I just get a bad feeling
from her little visit.”

“Yeah, well, you and Sophie visited Jack as
well, and I get a bad feeling from that.”

“Touché. But this is different. I went to
check up on Sophie. I’d been following her.”

“You were following her then, but not when
she left with Jack?”

“Again, you don’t know if she took Jack. And
she hadn’t done anything wrong, so my task of following her was
over.” He shifted in the seat.

“How convenient. Just when you stopped
following her was when Jack disappeared.”

“Maybe you’re reading too much into
that.”

“Am I?” I quirked a brow.

“So are you going to listen to me or not?
After all, I am the one who knows the vampires.” He opened his
mouth exposing his fangs. “I’m one of them, remember?”

Was he trying to intimidate me? “How could I
forget,” I said. “Fine. Tell me where she lives.”

“It’s just over on St. Charles Avenue. Not
too far.”

“It’s far enough,” I balked.

As I steered the car toward Isabella’s
house, my mind raced. Was I doing the right thing? Listening to a
vampire who I didn’t know would more than likely get me in a lot of
trouble. But I’d try anything to find Jack. I wanted him back, safe
and unharmed.

“It’s that house right there.” He
pointed.

We pulled up in front of a little
shotgun-style home. It was white with a white picket fence in
front. Not the type of home I had expected Isabella to live in. The
house was charming. I had expected her to stay in some dark,
foreboding place to match her weird personality. Like a cave,
perhaps.

“I can do most of the talking,” Quinton said
as we walked.

“I bet you can.” I scoffed. “I think I’m
capable of asking her some questions.”

“No, it’s just that she’ll talk to me. She
knows me and I think she likes me.”

“You’re awfully confident.” I smirked.

“I didn’t mean it that way. She just likes
me as a person. That’s something you should try.”

“What, liking you?” I asked as I walked up
the sidewalk.

He held the little gate open for me.
“Yes.”

“Well, I don’t know you. Maybe when I know
you, I will like you.” I plastered a fake smile across my face.

“I’ll take that. It’s better than nothing.”
He chuckled.

We climbed the steps and stood in front of
the door. Quinton knocked against the wood frame. His pounding was
hard enough to rattle the door. No way would she not here that if
she was in there. Several seconds passed with no answer.

“Maybe she knows it’s you and that’s why
she’s not answering,” I said.

He scoffed. “Unlikely.”

He was awfully confident in himself. More
than likely, too confident. He knocked again and within a few
seconds, the sound of a lock clicked, then the door opened a few
inches.

Isabella stood in front of us. She wore her
usual skintight clothing. Her jeans were so low they barely covered
her Miss Prim. Her tight white T-shirt didn’t reach her belly
button.

Her eyes were wide and she had a slight
smirk on her face as she glared at me. “What are you doing here?”
She looked to Quinton and quickly to me. “And with her? Why did you
bring her to my house?”

“Oh, it’s okay for you to come to my house,
but I can’t come to yours?” So much for letting him talk. “And what
happened to that Italian accent you had? Now you have a Texas
drawl.”

“Oh, I just do that for kicks. Funny, huh?
It makes my job more interesting. I always wanted to be an
actress.”

“Aren’t you going to invite us in?” Quinton
asked.

“For what?” She frowned.

“Come on. You know for what. Jack is missing
and we know you know him.” Quinton placed his foot across the
threshold, but she didn’t budge.

“Are you saying I had something to do with
it?” She glared at Quinton.

“No, but you are supposed to be friends with
him from way back. Aren’t you concerned about his safety?”

Her expression softened. “Of course I
am.”

She opened the door wider and stepped to the
side, motioning for us to enter. I hesitantly stepped into the
foyer.

“Come on in and have a seat in the living
room.” She motioned around the room. “I would offer you something
to drink, but I don’t believe in all that hostess crap.”

“No, thanks, I’m not thirsty right now,” I
quipped.

“So much for the seven fifteen meeting.” She
looked at me with a frown.

I didn’t respond. What could I say?

“We don’t have time to sit and chat,”
Quinton said matter-of-factly.

“Suit yourself.” She plopped down on the
sofa.

I peered around at the surroundings. Her
place had a relaxed, eclectic feel. Sheer white curtains underneath
dark-green, velvet corded drapes hung on the windows. A
marble-topped credenza was on the left wall with a brown leather
sofa and two armchairs in front of the fireplace that occupied the
center of the room. Large funky prints hung on the walls. Behind
the living room, I spotted the edge of the kitchen with cherry
cabinets and slate flooring.

“Look, I don’t know where Jack is, so you’re
wasting your time here.” She studied her fingernails.

“Maybe so, but you did just go to his
place,” Quinton said.

She scoffed. “That doesn’t mean I know where
he is, idiot. Obviously, he was just turned and this has upset some
people. Why, I don’t know.”

“Did you leave one of those maps in my
friend’s car?” I asked.

Quinton glanced at me with a puzzled
look.

“What? No, I have no idea what you’re
talking about,” she said.

“I guess you didn’t get my message
then?”

She furrowed her brow. “No, I didn’t.”

I didn’t know Isabella, and she’d given me
no reason to like her so far, but for some reason, I believed she
was telling the truth.

“Come on, Quinton, I’m leaving. Do you need
a ride from me?” I moved toward the foyer.

“I know where you should look,” she
said.

I stopped in my tracks and turned around to
face her. “Where?”

“You should look at his partner in crime.
Sophie.”

My heart rate increased. He was her partner
in crime. Why had I ignored that fact? He’d showed up at Jack’s,
too. Then chased us. So now I was trusting the guy? But what if he
offered some clue?

Isabella sat up straighter in her seat. “I
know where Sophie lives. You should look there for him.”

On one hand, I didn’t want to trust her.
Heck, I didn’t trust her, but on the other hand, she had a good
point. Sophie’s house may be where Jack was. We had to give it a
shot. Why hadn’t Quinton suggested that in the first place? He had
to know where she lived, too.

“That’s the last place she would take him.
Trust me, I know Sophie, and she wouldn’t take him there. She’s not
dumb. She has to know that’s the first place Rylie would look.”

“Yeah, but she doesn’t figure that I’ll know
where she lives. How would I? I want to go there.”

Isabella smiled as if proud of her
suggestion. Quinton shook his head.

“I have the pink car. I can go by
myself.”

“I wouldn’t advise that.”

“I’m sure you wouldn’t advise a lot of
things I do, but I’d do them anyway. So are you going with me, or
do I go by myself?”

Isabella sat on her sofa with that same smug
little smirk. I was pretty sure this was her only expression. She
probably slept with that look on her face, too.

“I’ll go with you, but you’ll see it’s just
a waste of time.”

“Thanks for the help, Isabella. I think.” I
hurried toward the door.

“Yeah, thanks a ton,” Quinton said
dryly.

I was guessing that Isabella wasn’t
Quinton’s favorite person, but the same went for Sophie. So who did
he like? I couldn’t say I blamed him though. Isabella wasn’t my
favorite person, either. Sophie was my new nemesis. And I thought
Lily would never lose that title. After hopping back in the Bug, we
took off for Sophie’s.

“You know you’re just wasting time by going
there,” Quinton said as he moved his legs, looking for a
comfortable position in the seat.

“I thought I was wasting time by going to
Isabella’s, so what’s your point?”

“Fine. Let’s get this over with. I hate to
see Jack in some bad situation.”

“Yeah, you and me both.” I scoffed. He was
probably just saying that. “Have you asked the vampire leader where
Jack is? Maybe he knows.”

“I doubt Sophie would tell the vampire
leader that she’s kidnapped a half vampire. Don’t you think?”

I glanced at him. “I suppose not.”

We pulled up in front of the historic home.
It was a gray Italianate with a little black wrought iron fence out
front. Sophie’s place was surprisingly cheery, too. I had expected
it to be all dark and moody just as I’d expected Isabella’s home to
be. Maybe with black walls to match her sparkling personality? The
vampires needed to get with it if they wanted to keep that scary
vibe going.

“How old is Sophie anyway?” I asked as I
climbed out from behind the wheel and moved to the front of the
house.

“Well, I’m not sure exactly. She doesn’t
reveal her age, but since she has owned this house since her former
husband built it for her in 1849, I’d say she has a few years on
us.”

“Her former husband? What, did she kill
him?”

“He was murdered, but they never found the
killer.”