The District (7 page)

She crooked her finger. “Follow me.”

“Anywhere.”

They rode up the elevator in silence. Was he struggling as much as she was? And what was his struggle? Trust? Telling him he’d been a father the past two years wouldn’t do much to alleviate that.

When they reached their rooms, they both swiped their cards.

He pointed into his room. “I’ll meet you at the secret door.”

She closed her door and scooped in a deep breath. She needed to delve down for some willpower. She couldn’t start getting cozy with Eric and then drop the A-bomb on him, or in this case, the
P
-bomb for
parenthood.

She clicked her card down on the credenza and reached for her purse. She dug inside for her little bottle of ibuprofen and pulled out her phone at the same time to charge it.

The knock on the adjoining door made her almost drop both phone and bottle.

“Yeah, I got it.” She crossed the room and turned the dead bolt. He’d better use the one on his side, too, since she didn’t trust herself in the middle of the night sleeping alone in a cold bed.

He eased open the door. “Everyone decent?”

“Nothing you haven’t seen before.” She opened her robe and spread her arms.

The way his hazel eyes sparked to green as they traveled over her body, made it seem as if he were seeing her for the first time.

She shook the pills in the bottle, and then tossed it at him. “Here you go.”

With his quick reflexes, he swiped a hand through the air and caught the bottle with a snap. He thumbed up the lid. “I’m going to steal your water, too, since you already have a bottle open.”

“My wine, my painkillers, my water. What else are you going to steal from me?”

Someone banged on her hotel door, and this time she did drop her phone.

“Wait.” Eric stepped into her room and headed for her door just as the banging started again. He looked through the peephole. He motioned her over. “Do you know this guy?”

She huddled in next to him and looked through the peephole. She whispered, “No.”

Once more, the young man with slicked-back black hair pummeled his fists against the door. “Hello? Anyone in there? Christina Sandoval? I’m Vivi’s friend.”

Christina took a step back, turning wide eyes on Eric and lifting her shoulders.

“Vivi’s missing, and I’m afraid she might be in danger.”

Chapter Seven

Christina swayed, and she clutched on to Eric like a lifeline.

Eric reached past her and swung open the door. “Who are you?”

The man jerked back. “I—I’m Darius Cole, Vivi Sandoval’s friend.”

“How the hell did you know Christina was staying here?”

The man’s pale skin blanched even further. “She told me. Vivi told me her sister was in the city and staying at this hotel.”

Eric glanced at her, and she spread her hands. When she talked to Vivi last month, she’d mentioned coming to the city to work and had probably mentioned her hotel. What did it matter now? She brushed past Eric and grabbed Darius’s arm, dragging him into the room. “Tell me what happened. How long has Vivi been missing?”

“Two weeks.” He jerked out of her grasp. “You’re some kind of cop, right? Vivi told us.”

“FBI. Have you called the police?”

“They won’t listen.” Darius made a circle around the room, clenching his hands, his black boots clumping on the floor. “They said she’s an adult and there’s nothing they can do without evidence of foul play, or something like that.”

“Okay, calm down.”

Christina squeezed her eyes closed, feeling anything but calm herself, and then Eric was next to her rubbing a circle on her back. She dropped her shoulders and took a deep breath. “Start from the beginning. Is—was Vivi still in Big Sur?”

“Santa Cruz. We were all staying at Papa Bud’s house.”

“Papa Bud?” She raised her brows at Eric.

Darius flicked long white fingers. “He’s just a guy in Santa Cruz, has a big house and everyone’s welcome.”

“How long have you and Vivi been staying there?”

“A few months. We’d been working near the boardwalk. I’ve been bartending and Vivi’s been reading the cards, telling fortunes.”

“Did she say anything before she left? Meet up with anyone? What about this Papa Bud?”

“Papa Bud’s cool. He’s just as worried as the rest of us.”

“Was Vivi using drugs there?”

“Not much, a little weed.” He shrugged. “You know Vivi. She can reach an alternate state all on her own. She doesn’t need any help.”

“So what were the circumstances of her departure? Did she take her purse, her car?”

“We didn’t have a car at the time. We hitched a ride down the coast to see some people and then came up to the city where I had my car and were planning to go back down to Santa Cruz. That’s when she took off. She took her purse and one bag.”

A trickle of relief meandered through her body and she slumped against Eric, whose arm had found its way around her waist. “It sounds to me like she just got tired of Papa Bud’s and telling fortunes on the boardwalk. If you know Vivi, you know she’s always looking for new experiences.”

He ran his hands through his dark hair, making it stand up even more. “That’s why the cops won’t do anything. They think she just took off on her own.”

“And you don’t?”

“She didn’t say anything to anyone. She just stole away in the middle of the night. Why would she do that?” Darius nibbled on a fingernail that he’d painted black.

She rolled her eyes at Eric. “Did she owe someone money?”

“No, but she was worried about something.”

Christina’s pulse ticked up again. “Did she tell you what?”

“I’m not sure, but I think it had something to do with those murders.”

“What murders?”

Eric’s arm tightened around her and she was glad of it.

“She had newspaper clippings of a murder in San Diego and another one in Portland—one man and one woman.”

“Did she say anything about them?” Christina licked her lips and shot a sideways glance at Eric.

“Not much, but she kept the articles and read them so much they became dog-eared. And she seemed frightened. Santa Cruz is pretty laid-back, but she wouldn’t stay at the boardwalk once the sun went down.”

“Do you know if anyone was stalking or threatening her?”

“In Santa Cruz?”

“Look, I know you think Santa Cruz is paradise on earth, but there are a lot of crazies there just like anywhere else. Maybe one of her clients, someone who saw her on the boardwalk started fixating on her or something.”

“Why wouldn’t she just tell us? And we’d already left the boardwalk. Why take off all secretive like that?”

“We’re talking about Vivi here. Your guess is as good as mine.”

“You don’t care about your sister? You don’t want to find her?”

Christina’s body stiffened and Eric’s hand moved to the back of her neck and squeezed. “Of course I do, but you haven’t given me anything. What do you think happened to her? If someone abducted her, why would she take her purse and pack a bag?”

“She packed a bag, but she left her most important possessions.”

“What would that be, her bong?”

Darius whistled. “Wow, you really are a cop, aren’t you?”

“Just tell me what she left that was so important to her.”

“Her tarot cards, her incense, her amulet.”

“Her amulet?”

Darius tapped his throat. “A necklace she always wore. Why would she leave that stuff?”

Eric snapped his fingers and strode across the floor to his own room, calling over his shoulder. “What did Vivi’s necklace look like?”

“It’s a circle with two wavy lines and then a straight line intersecting the wavy lines.”

As Darius described the amulet, Eric returned to her room waving the notepaper with the symbol of Liz Fielding’s necklace. “Like this?”

“Whoa, man. Where’d you get that?” Darius snatched the paper from Eric. “That’s it.”

Christina covered her mouth with one hand. What did it mean? Was Vivi a member of this coven, too? “I—I’ve never seen her wear that.”

“Well, she did, all the time, under her clothes. And she left it. Why would she leave that and the other stuff?”

Because someone is killing off members of her coven.

“I’m not sure, Darius. Look, just keep me posted. I think Vivi left of her own free will. I don’t think you need to worry.”

He held the paper back out to Eric. “You’re not going to tell me where you got that drawing?”

“FBI business.” Eric shoved the paper into the pocket of his damp trunks.

Christina took a deep breath. “She’ll probably be in touch later, and I’ll keep you posted.”

“Here’s my number.” Darius hunched over the nightstand and scribbled on the hotel notepad. “I hope you’re right. She thinks a lot of her big sister.”

Unexpected moisture pooled in her eyes, and her nose tingled. “I’m sure she’s fine. She probably just wanted a break. Take care of her cards and necklace. Put them away. Put the necklace away. She’ll be back.”

“You’ll let me know as soon as you find her?” Darius crossed his muscular arms and took a stance like he wasn’t leaving until she agreed.

“Yes. I’ll let you know.” She held out her hand. “Thanks for coming by and telling me all this.”

Darius unfolded his arms but didn’t take her hand, leveling a finger at her instead. “Just find her. I think she’s in danger.”

“I’ll do my best.”

Darius stepped toward the door Eric was holding open and shook his hand before he slipped out.

Christina stared at the closed door.

“Are you okay?” Eric’s low voice brought her back from an abyss of crazy.

She turned her head, widened her eyes and sank to the bed. “What do you think is going on? Tell me before I go off the deep end here.”

“I think,” he murmured, flicking a damp lock of hair from her shoulder, “something or someone was threatening your sister and she decided to hightail it out of Santa Cruz and Papa Bud’s commune. She made a stop in the city with that hippie bodybuilder and then didn’t feel safe, so she took off.”

“And she left her stuff, the tools of her trade, her witchy accoutrements. Why?” She spread her hands as if hoping to find the answer in the lines crisscrossing her palms.

“Isn’t it clear? She doesn’t want to be associated with the tools of her trade. She doesn’t want to be identified as a witch.”

Christina puffed out a breath. “It sounds more sensible when you say it, but that’s exactly what I was thinking.”

“What did Libby say?”

“There’s a war against witches.” She bounded up from the bed and paced the floor, threading her fingers in front of her. “How do you think the Bureau is going to react when we hand them this motive for the killings?”

“Do you think they’ll be less interested just because the victims are witches?” He fell onto his side and propped up his head with his hand, his elbow digging into the bed—her bed.

“No. I don’t know. Rich will think we’re nuts. He’ll think I’m making things up.”

“Proof is proof. Evidence is evidence.”

“We don’t have much of either.” She stopped beside the bed and rested her knee on top of it. “What are the chances that my own sister is involved in this?”

“She’s not involved, Christina.” He rolled to his back and crossed his hands behind his head.

“She obviously knows what’s going on. She knows she’s a target.”

“That’s a good thing, and we have a good starting point here. Libby mentioned another coven. I say we do a little research...tomorrow.”

“You’re right. I just wish I didn’t have to worry about Vivi on top of everything else I’m worried about.”

He sat up and cocked his head. “What else are you worried about?”

She nibbled on her lower lip. Eric Brody sprawled across her bed, for one thing. And continuing to lie to him about their daughter for another.

She closed her eyes to block out the vision of him, still in his trunks, lounging on her bed.

Bad idea. She felt his warm breath on her cheek as he rose from the mattress and took her hand.

“Your sister’s going to be fine, Christina. Whoever drew that symbol on your windshield and blew past you in the car is just playing games, and if he isn’t, if he means you harm,” he said as he wedged a finger beneath her chin, “he’s going to have to get through me first.”

She blinked. She’d honestly forgotten about her newly acquired stalker, but she could do a lot worse than having Eric in her corner. She never thought she’d be able to say that again.

She curved her lips into a smile. “Thanks. That makes me feel warm and fuzzy.”

“Are you being sarcastic?” He pinched her chin.

“I’m serious. I—I’m glad you’re here, Eric.”

“I am, too, and I’ll be right next door all night if you need anything or if you have any bad dreams.”

“You know I probably had that dream about Vivi around the same time she took off. She was communicating with me.”

“You’re probably right.”

She searched his face for any hint of humor, but saw only concern. That’s what she’d always loved about Eric—he was a tough guy with an empathetic soul. He’d had enough tragedy in his young life to be able to truly feel what others felt.

His hazel eyes darkened to bottle-green, and she parted her lips. He brushed his mouth against hers so quickly, she might have imagined it.

“Call me if you need me. I’m leaving my side of the door unlocked tonight.” He waved his hand in the air. “But I am closing it. Apparently, Darius likes nail polish
and
perfume.”

She nodded stupidly and stared at his broad, bare back as he headed into his own room.

Eric clicked the door shut, and then smacked his forehead with his palm.

He had no self-control. A kiss? It’s not like she was falling apart at the seams. Christina Sandoval did not fall apart at the seams. She didn’t even have seams.

A sniffle. A teary eye. That’s as far as it went with Agent Sandoval. She didn’t even seem remotely bothered by the recent threats to her. She seemed strangely removed from those threats. Something else had her going—jumpy, tentative. Something more than her sister, since she’d been acting jittery ever since he walked into the station this morning.

With the way they’d left things between them, she had every right to be jittery. He’d been an ass.

He peeled off his damp board shorts and tossed them into the bathtub. Then he brushed his teeth and crawled naked between the sheets.

As he stared at the blinking green light on the smoke detector, he heard a click. He jerked his head toward the door between his room and Christina’s.

“Damn.” He’d forgotten his promise to her to leave the door unlocked on his side. He rolled from the bed and padded across the floor. Pressing one hand against the door, he turned the dead bolt. The click sounded like a gunshot.

He held his breath. Then he turned and crept back to bed. As his head hit the pillow, he heard an answering click from the other side of the door.

Was that an invitation?

He pulled the pillow over his head.
If you know what’s good for you, Brody, ignore it.

But when it came to Christina, that advice was easier said than done.