Vigilante Mine (32 page)

The scent and taste of mint from his choice tea, the hard, unyielding press of his lips
—
the way she'd craved both Klepto and Ryan like an addict.

The rail car jerked forward, then shuddered to a full stop.

"I'm getting off here," Amanda said. "I know Dale told you to follow, but this guy's still out there, and he had eyes on me tonight. I don't imagine you'll want to be seen fraternizing."

Charlie frowned at whatever he read in her eyes and walked her as far as the mechanized doors. Worry etched deep in the pale angles of his face. "Call me if you need anything. I'll find a way to help."

"Thanks."

"Isn't that your stray?" He caught her arm and she squinted into the station.

Romeo. Dark as shadows, the German shepherd waited on the landing for her to step out. His eyes glinted with a keen, unnatural intelligence. She waved Charlie off and left the car despite the way her blood rushed to her ears, part panic, part fury.

"I wouldn't insult you with an offer of escort
—
"

"He doesn't even have the decency to come after me himself?" Amanda asked
—
was she really talking to a dog?
—
over the grinding squeak of the engine pumping into motion. Skirting the furry interloper, she headed for the turnstiles.

"The Spiritwalker didn't send me."
The dog fell into step beside her.
"Actually, he threatened me with a trip to the vet if I followed you."

"And yet, here you are, risking your doghood anyway." She sighed, pulling her ID from her glove. "Why?"

"Your dress gives little protection."

"It's not supposed to. It's a dress. But that doesn't answer my question, now does it?" It took two swipes of the metallic strip through the reader, then the stile clicked.

The dog didn't answer.

"What happens when he comes looking for you?"

"New hire has a flirty little poodle . . . "

"Gross. Never mind. With a name like Romeo, I should have guessed Ryan McLelas's dog got as much tail as he does."

A hiccupy-snort came from Romeo's throat.

"Are you laughing or having a stroke?"

The dog lifted his nose high.
"I am glad you are comfortable near me now."

She started. She
wasn't
afraid. Her nerves came out with acerbic humor. But fear? The usual knot of tension at the base of her spine eased the longer she dealt with Romeo's candor.

"Despite his orders, he'd rather have you safe."

A shiver claimed her spine and she hugged her wrap tighter around her shoulders. These streets used to be more secure after dark. Drug traffic had a significant uptick in recent months, creeping ever closer to the main roads in residential areas, overtaking them in some formerly clean business zones. She should have asked Charlie to walk her the few blocks to her mother's two-story greystone.

Hand-to-hand combat might feel good
—
and burn off the anger muddling her thoughts
—
but Mrs. Byron had threatened to cut off her home-cooked meal ticket if the gown came back with so much as a thread out of place.

"That's a good one." Amanda watched Romeo wind his way through the bars. "He's the reason some syndicate pervert broke into my house. A pervert who didn't know I existed until Klepto took me down this very same stretch of road, I might add. He lied to me, betrayed my trust, and
—
hell, now I'm yelling at a dog."

"I didn't say he handled things well. You'd never have been involved with them if the Spiritwalker would listen once in a while."
The dog huffed his displeasure.
"I will watch over you until morning."

"By doing what? Falling asleep?" Amanda snapped her mouth shut at the way his muscles bunched under the rich, black fur. Taunting him was a bad idea. Her cheek reminded her proof even a small dog could do damage, and this one was every inch a warrior.

"When I hear trouble, I will warn you."

As he'd done with Shiv's hired sniper.

Her feet paused, but her brain revved like the engine in Ryan's favorite Mustang. Romeo. The hearing. It explained so much of Ryan McLelas's mystery. From the very beginning, Ryan had . . . known things. Like tonight, when he'd come to rescue her from Hunter's awkward, drunken apology.

"You're the reason Ryan knew Hunter tried to manhandle me. You heard the attack and told him."

"He did not listen through me."

"So he's got what, super hearing, all on his own?"

"Perhaps you should ask him."

She frowned as something else clicked in her head. "His ears, when my security alarm
—
"

Romeo sighed.
"Yes."

"He heard the phone call across the room. He has super powers." She turned the corner onto her mother's street. "This is crazy by every definition of insanity. Unnatural abilities, talking dogs
—
"

"You're the one talking back."

Romeo's tongue lolled out of his mouth. A grin, perhaps, but the sparse placement of streetlights glinted off sharp canines. Amanda sidestepped closer to the row of houses.

"I saw that."

"I've had a lifetime to perfect the maneuver." She sucked in a deep breath. "I'm sorry. By now, it's . . . instinct."

"It's habit. Your instinct knows I won't hurt you."

"Instinct and I haven't been getting along this week."

A too-knowing glint flared in his eyes.
"The Spiritwalker isn't the only one with hearing problems."

"Why do you call him
—
No. I can't do this." She kicked the bottom step that led to her mother's greystone and turned to face the dog. "I need space, Romeo. Give me time to think, and stay out of my head while you're at it."

Romeo's nose hung low enough to brush the ground.
"If you give him a chance to explain . . . "

"That's not how this works. There's a killer on the loose, and I can't
—
I won't
—
be distracted this time."

Her mother answered the door and wasted no time hauling her into the tiny foyer. Amanda imagined a concrete barrier in her mind as she shoved the door closed in the dog's face. A white-hot burst of pain marked the severed connection, then it was gone.

Immediately wrenched into an interrogation and a not-so-subtle hunt for injuries, she didn't have time to examine the strange sensation.

"You're okay?" her mother asked.

Amanda nodded.

Long, thin fingers reached for hers, squeezed. "Your Prince Charming's been all over the news about the evacuation. You get changed, I'll make you some hot cocoa, and then you come sit with us. Don't even think about scrimping on the details this time."

Amanda hid an inward wince at her nickname for Ryan. "Us, who?"

Squeals emitted from the living room, and the wince crept onto her face. Her mother's fashion-forward knitting circle, probably ogling the night's couture. It would figure, on the night they'd set aside for planning their next yarn challenge, they'd opt instead to be glued to News 9's broadcast. Amanda groaned inwardly. There would be no solace here.

"Can it wait until morning? I just want some rest." Amanda shrugged off her shawl and as it slid off her bare arms, her mother gasped.

Eyes narrowed, her mother then demanded, "Are those bruises?"

Amanda looked down. Hunter. His meaty hands had gripped her hard enough that light blue marks had begun to surface on her skin. Wait until morning? Forget it.

Meredith Werner needed a patent on 'The Look': two parts pinning glare, one part tell-me-now-or-else scowl, blended on high with a spritz of righteous fury à la mother bear.

Amanda ducked her head. "I'll go change."

"I'll put some milk on to boil." Her mother moved with her to the hallway. "Come out when you're ready. And Amanda?"

She turned to face a warm smile.

"I still think you look like a princess."

Amanda felt her own smile falter and hurried into the bedroom before her mother's radar could ping on that, too. "A princess. Too bad my Prince Charming is a fraud."

Renewed anger lent her speed. She stripped out of the gown, the heels, the light makeup, then threw open her mother's closet and rummaged for a cozy sweatshirt. The zealot wouldn't try anything more tonight, not after the failure of his explosives. He'd regroup though, and attack again. Which meant Ryan was still in danger.

Her heart twinged. Why did she still care?

"Duty," she decided aloud. Amanda hauled well-worn sleeves over her arms and wrapped the fabric over her palms. She hugged her middle as hope, brittle and broken like windblown icicles, snapped inside her chest. "Not because I was falling for him."

He wasn't the only one capable of lies.

Amanda raided the kitchen on bare feet to avoid alerting the interrogation department. The sharp women her mother associated with were hungrier than even the News 9 crew and more tenacious than the face-hugging terrier that had scarred her three-year-old self. Milk came to a frothy boil on the stove. A giant red mug lay in wait, filled with fresh chocolate shavings. Delicious fortitude. Mom knew her too well.

She poured the milk into the oversized mug with dread for the question and answer session ahead. "I'd have been better off with the telepathic German shepherd."

Except, the living room was vacant. They'd left the volume on the TV high, and a press conference was underway. McLelas Financial had far exceeded its fundraising goals. Maybe people were more charitable when they'd sidestepped death. But the money report wasn't what stole her breath and wrenched her heart anew. Ryan stood behind the podium. He fielded question after question, a company president and PR whiz, dodging, spinning half-truths with ease while the reporters both touted and criticized McLelas Financial's creative evacuation efforts and the company's cooperation with the Relek City Police Department. He shoved at the corner of his glasses. Self-consciousness? Were the lies getting to him? Did the man have a single remorseful bone in his body?

"Do you want to talk about him?" her mother asked over her shoulder.

Amanda closed her eyes, unable to block his image from her thoughts. "Less now than I did the other day."

"Did he put those bruises on your arms?" Sharp, razor-edged words.

"No." Amanda turned to her with a start. "No, he . . . charged to the rescue. Mom, it's
—
"

"Complicated?" Her mother clicked the power button on the remote. "Or you'd be there."

Amanda sighed. "You always ask the hard questions."

"I ask the important ones. You have enough of the other kind in your own head." She paused. "I sent the ladies home."

Amanda found her mug lifted out of her hands, a pad of paper taking its place. Names. Addresses. Information she'd thrown away when she'd thought Klepto was the right lead.
Pure, unadulterated adrenaline galloped through her veins.

"You kept looking," Amanda said.

"
They haven't caught this killer yet, or it would have been in this report. I figured you might prefer to keep busy."

Amanda wrapped her in a tight hug.

Fresh slate. Priorities.

She'd set this pointless confusion and hurt aside and channel her anger alone into a clean perspective on the case.

"What else do you need? More chocolate?" Her mother extracted herself from the embrace with a grin.

"I have to start from scratch." Amanda scooted onto the couch and spread out the property tax information for the newest victim locations on the coffee table. "All of my other research is at home."

"It's no trouble to bring up the others again. I still have the saved list."

Amanda bobbed her head gratefully. "Have an atlas?"

Her mother smiled. "Maps from the tourism department?"

Mere minutes later, Amanda draped the huge sheet of paper over the tabletop. A collection of highlighters and pens were scattered in the middle of the work area. The last map she'd defaced had targeted Klepto. She had to shrug off his influence on this case. Her personal life had no bearing on finding the real zealot. For now, she'd set aside Ryan's alter ego, Klepto's profile and his haunts, and abandon her hunches.

Popping the top of a chunky, blue permanent marker first, she scribbled on her new grid with fast, furious writing. This time, the evidence would speak for itself.

Sleepless hours of
damage control had given Ryan a never-ending headache and boosted the fundraising totals enough to fuel the department's few cruisers for years. For the night's excitement, his team and the police department had been painted as heroes. He'd never felt like less of one.

"Are you hiding in the office because you're afraid she'll arrest you?"
Romeo asked.