Vengeance (28 page)

Hospitality
, Cerberus muttered.
Right
. He padded over to the breakfast alcove and settled down with a sigh under Lucinda's chair.
So what's up?

"I thought I'd make Lucinda something to eat." I pulled eggs, cheese, onion and some leftover ham from the fridge. Then I rooted around in the cupboards for a mixing bowl and skillet, finally finding some ancient mismatched dishes. "She could use some new equipment," I commented.

I think she likes what she has. She doesn't seem like a person who cares about things like that. I think her mind is focused on other things
.

A commercial came on the TV for a John Denver Greatest Hits compilation. As the singer's clear tenor voice sang, I stopped my mixing, struck by a sudden thought. "I never knew what it meant," I whispered as Denver sang "Song for Annie."

What?

I gestured to the TV. "That song." I always thought it was an incredibly hokey, albeit beautiful tune. For the first time in this life, I fully understood the sentiments behind it. I know it's a masculine notion that we "fill" women, but it wasn't true. Lucinda truly filled me, satisfying an empty hunger I hadn't known existed.

You're in love
. Wry humor seemed to ooze from Cerberus's voice.
I remember the symptoms well.

"What's it like?" I wasn't sure how to articulate all my questions. "Are you really me? Can you shapeshift? Are you--am I--always a dog?" I leaned on the counter, suddenly dizzy. Too much was happening. Someone tried to kill Lucinda the night before. Robert Meyer was within my grasp. I spent the night with Lucinda. The History Patrol was aware of my situation and had sent--I shied away from that thought, my mind returning to Lucinda.

I was in love.

And you're supposed to kill the woman you love in just a few hours
, Cerberus pointed out.
Have you decided how you're going to handle that?

I pulled out my mobile phone, which I had turned off the night before. "No, I haven't." I turned on the phone and, as expected, saw the message icon pop up on the tiny screen.

You also have to deal with Meyer. I think the two are related
.

I put the phone back in my jeans pocket. Parker Madison and his questions would have to wait. "I think you're right." I looked at the TV. A news story was playing, describing church services that would take place at the downtown cathedral.

"Good Friday," I said softly. My throat tightened with the memory of that Good Friday, two hundred years earlier, when Persa and I tracked Robert Meyer to his laboratory in old New York. I looked at Cerberus.

He nodded.
Good Friday. It's fitting that it all end today
.

"What do you mean?"

There's symmetry to life and death. It will be today. You'll have the chance to pay Meyer back for what he did
.

"And Lucinda?"

He set his chin on the chair where she sat the night before.
One way or another, it will end today
.

I pressed the button on the TV and the newscaster's face faded. I had chased Robert Meyer for more than two hundred years. What would it be like to finally accomplish my task? What would I do then? What would my goals be?

I had done almost everything I wanted to do. I've had careers as a doctor, an artist, computer engineer, landscaper, musician (rock and otherwise), roadie, golf caddy, forester, hobo and toy designer, not to mention other jobs I held briefly. I had played golf with the legends of the game, hobnobbed with celebrities, traveled the world before it became clogged with tourists and I made and lost several fortunes. My knowledge of history, while not detailed, had taught me what to avoid and what was important. What else was there?

I heard the shower start and I had my answer.

There was Lucinda.

I had her breakfast on the table by the time the water shut off. When she walked into the kitchen, head tilted to one side as she slipped on her earrings, a warm cup of coffee and a warm man awaited her. I smiled at her, noting that today she wore a very businesslike pair of navy slacks with a white blouse and matching navy jacket. She looked crisp, professional and not at all the sexy wanton who shared a night of erotic adventures with me.

I moved to take her into my arms, but she dodged me, going to the table. "What's wrong?" I asked, seeing the tense line of her shoulders in the linen jacket.

She looked down at the scrambled egg, toast and hash browns I'd piled on her plate. When she raised her eyes to look at me, her expression was bleak. "Daddy told me what Robert did. He infected you, didn't he?"

Cold panic drenched me. She knew.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

Lucinda slipped into the chair in the back of the alcove, careful to avoid treading on Cerberus, who watched us with anxious blue eyes. "It was the way you acted last night." Her cheeks flushed a dark red.

"I don't understand." I gestured to the plate in front of her. "You should eat before it gets cold. I made you an omelet. Cheese, ham and onions."

"Aren't you going to have any?" Her stormy gray eyes were cool and evaluating. I turned away from the accusation I saw there and poured myself a cup of coffee.

"I'll have some of yours," I said, getting out a small plate and sitting across from her. "I'm not that hungry."

"You don't need to eat, do you?" She made no move to pick up her silverware. "When you were infected your metabolism changed. My father told me about it."

"Why do you say I was infected?" I reached across the table to spear a bit of egg from her plate. Her eyes didn't waver from mine. I took a bite. "It's very good. Try it."

"Last night--most men would be--" She stopped, looking confused. "You didn't feel right."

"You didn't complain last night," I said lightly. "It all felt right to me. You felt
very
right to me." I tried a smile, but her intent stare didn't flicker. "What infection are you talking about? And what about your father? Why did he fake his death? You were going to tell me about that but we," I hesitated just long enough to appear modest, "we got distracted."

"You're lying. You asked me to trust you, but you're lying to me."

She has a point
, Cerberus said.

"And you lied to me," I countered. "You didn't tell me your father was alive."

She took a bite of omelet, chewing far more than the delicate dish needed. "Then I guess we're even. Perhaps we should leave it at that. I have other things to worry about now. What do you think we should do about Robert today?"

I blinked at this sudden change of subject. "Robert?"

"The proposal he's made. I think I know what he's up to."

I was relieved to be off the subject of immortality but loathe to leave the subject of trust.

Don't push your luck
, Cerberus muttered.

He was right. "What do you think he's up to?" I asked.

"I think he's doing something illegal." Lucinda nibbled a tiny bite of omelet. "He asked me for funding for a project and it wasn't the one he was supposed to work on."

"The African project? Is that the one he's assigned to?"

"He's supposed to be working on distribution details." She took another bite of the eggs. I was encouraged by this willingness to eat what I prepared. Perhaps she wasn't as angry as she appeared. "But instead he wanted funding for a new project. I turned him down."

She picked up the mug of coffee and added a dollop of milk from the carton on the table. "I'm worried about what he has in mind. I can't discuss all the details but he's dangerous. Very dangerous."

"I thought you were in love with him."

Her incredulous expression was unfeigned. If I had any lingering doubts about her feelings for Meyer, they were laid to rest. "In love with him? I'd like to kill the son of a bitch."

I laughed at her fierce assertion. "It's not quite that easy."

"I'm sure it isn't, but I'd love to try. I don't think I'll get the chance, though. The best I can hope for is to block whatever he's trying to do to my company."

"I'm ready to help. I read the prospectus. He's got impressive financial backing, so that's not an issue. You're going to have to convince your niece and nephew to refuse to sell. If they refuse, he won't get a controlling interest."

"What about Cara?" Lucinda glanced at me, then away.

She was still unsure of my feelings for her witch of a sister. Damn. After a night of making love, she was still suspicious. I couldn't believe it. I stifled the flare of anger the thought caused.

"What about her? She's in Mey--Masterson's pocket. She'll do whatever he wants." I was struck by a sudden thought. Had Meyer promised Cara the immortality injection? Now there was a woman who would love the prospect of a life frozen at her current age. Cara was in her forties but could pass for thirty-something. She also was devious enough to manipulate records and craft new identities as the need arose. Yes, she would thrive on Meyer's virus.

"You seem sure of that."

Lucinda's quiet voice cut through my speculation. "I am," I said. "She strikes me as the kind of woman who would love to make money easily. I know nothing about your niece or nephew, though. Can you convince them to turn down any buyout offers? He'll make them an offer that's hard to refuse."

"I still don't understand why he's doing it. Why does he need the lab?"

I've been wondering about that too
, Cerberus said. He looked up at her from his spot on the floor.

Lucinda noticed the movement and reached down to rub his head. "Are you going to keep him?" she asked me.

I wasn't sure who she meant, then I realized. "I don't know. I'm not sure we're compatible."

Cerberus huffed out a noise.
That's one way to phrase it
.

"The government regulates and monitors almost all chemical purchases," she said thoughtfully. "Perhaps Robert needs us as a front for what he's doing. What would happen if he tried to mass-produce that virus? Good God, it would wreak havoc in the world. Can you imagine?"

"What virus?" I gave her my wide-eyed innocent look, but it failed miserably.

Lucinda stilled, her eyes flickering to mine then back to the dog, who got to his feet and stared up at her with unabashed adoration. "Nothing." She stood up. "I need to get ready to go."

"I called my car service," I said, sipping my coffee. "They're meeting me at your office with one of my other cars. You can use the Jag until we can get you a new car."

"What?"

"I can get you a Jag this afternoon. Maybe a nice little X-type wagon. Or a different car," I added, seeing her perplexed look. "I'm sure we can find something you like."

"What do you mean, 'get me a car'?" She picked up her plate and started toward the sink.

"I just assumed..." I stopped, distracted by Cerberus, who peered up at me over the table, slowly moving his head from side to side, his eyes fixed on me. "I mean, I thought you might like to use the car. I have another one I can use."

She set the plate into the sink. "How many cars do you have?"

Cerberus sneezed. I heeded his warning. "That's not the point. The point is, I have a car and you can use it. If you don't want to that's fine."

"Do all your cars cost sixty thousand dollars?"

"I told you," I said with elaborate patience. "It didn't cost sixty thousand."

"I won't need it. I called John. He'll give me a ride to the office. I can call a car rental place and get something. It doesn't matter what I drive." She left the room, going back down the hall toward her bedroom.

I started to argue with her but stopped when Cerberus whispered,
Let it go. She's upset about something
.

"No kidding." Why was she being so argumentative? It made no sense. I had a car she could use. Why wouldn't she take advantage of the offer? I went to the stove to tidy up my cooking dishes. I took a moment to organize her jumbled dishwasher, sorting the silverware into separate compartments and realigning the pots at a better angle. I straightened up when she came back into the room, briefcase and Velveteen Rabbit in hand.

"What is this?" Lucinda flourished the raggedy bunny at me.

"The Velveteen Rabbit." She started to speak and I hurried on. "I was hoping you'd make me Real, Lucinda." I reached for her, but she brushed past me, resting her briefcase on the floor near the alcove and putting the rabbit on my empty chair.

"Nico, we need to get something straight." She arranged the placemat so it was precisely aligned with the edge of the table, avoiding my gaze. "I slept with you. I didn't ask for your help."