When Temptation Burns: A Shadow Keepers Novel (Shadow Keepers 6) (17 page)

She took a sip. “So is Paul Vassalo a national security risk? Is the hotel being invaded by terrorists?”

“Excuse me?”

“I’m just wondering why Homeland Security is interested in a cocktail party.”

“I get the feeling you don’t want me here.”

Her expression softened. “I’m sorry. I just—I’ve worked very hard to keep the fact that I’m a reporter a secret, and here you are. I feel a little edgy.”

“I said I’d keep your secret.”

“So you did.” She shrugged. “But it’s not like I know you. And in my experience, people lie.”

“Yeah? That’s been my experience, too.”

She laughed. “You’re not exactly helping your own case.”

“So wait and get to know me. In the end you’ll figure things out.”

“How long is this party going to go on for?”

“Are you suggesting we won’t see each other again after this party?”

She swallowed, and her hand fluttered up to her necklace again. “Are you suggesting we will?” He heard the softly flirtatious tone of her voice and felt a stab of purely male victory in his gut.

“Maybe I am,” he said.

“Oh. Well.” Even in the dim light, he could see a hint of pink stain her cheeks. She cleared her throat, then took a sip of her wine. “So, how’d you end up here?” Her voice had a forced casualness, and he felt a kick of disappointment. “Did you come with someone?”

“Travis Sullivan.”

“Really? The attorney who prosecuted Creevey?” Her neck craned as she searched the room, clearly intrigued by that bit of info. “I don’t see him.”

“He’s on the balcony. Talking with Paul and the man you were with. Who was he?”

“Not that it’s any of your business, but he’s my father.”

That little piece of information sliced through him like a knife. If her father was here, then it was possible she was a part of all this, not just an observer on the sidelines like he was.

And what do you care, Doyle? Why should you care what she thinks about the shadowers? About you?

Because for whatever reason, this woman got under his skin. But he couldn’t blow this mission simply because a beautiful woman messed with his head.

She was looking intently at him. “You never answered my question—are you here on official business?”

“Official business?”

“You know what I mean. You’re a cop,” she added, her voice so low it was barely audible. “Is this a sting? Are you undercover? Are you about to pull out handcuffs and make an arrest?”

He laughed her off. “I know Travis from work. He knows perfectly well that I’m with Homeland.”

“Really?”

“You sound surprised.”

“I just—nothing.”

“What?”

“I guess I assumed that agents were more … skulky about things.”

He could tell that it wasn’t what she’d intended to say—and her coyness made him wonder how much she knew about the Dark Warriors’ activities. At the very least, she apparently knew enough to think that they might have caught Homeland’s eye.

He didn’t call her on it, though. Considering who her father was, Andrea Tarrant could turn into a solid asset. “Did you really just suggest that the federal government is skulky?”

Her lips twitched. “I guess I did. So, if you’re not here for work, why did you come? Just to keep Travis company?”

“I’m interested in what Paul’s doing.”

“Oh.”

He knew he hadn’t given her a straight answer—and he knew she knew, too—so he was grateful when he saw Kevin peering at them from across the room. It gave him a chance to shift the conversation. “We’re being watched.”

She turned to glance over her shoulder. “That’s Kevin.”

“I know. The man of the hour.” Doyle worked hard to keep the contempt from his voice. “You know him?”

“My cousin.”

Doyle couldn’t ignore the sense of relief that flooded him. From the familiar way he’d seen her touch the guy earlier, he’d thought—

Not that it mattered. But, yeah. He was relieved.

“Man of the hour?” she repeated. “So you know what happened?” There was a touch of ambiguity in her voice, and he realized this was a test. Her way of finding out if he was in with the rest of them. If he was safe to talk to.

Hell yes, he was.

He met her eyes straight on. “You mean about the werewolf?” His words came out casual, but he felt anything but. His head was filled with Jordan, and he had to force himself not to look at Kevin, for fear his contempt would show on his face.

“That’s exactly what I mean,” she said, almost too brightly. It made him wonder if she really believed the story. “The whole thing’s pretty amazing.”

“It’s difficult when your entire view of the world shifts.”

“Yes. It is.” She took a sip of her wine and looked over at the balcony. “But that wasn’t really what I meant. It’s just that Kevin’s not the fighting kind. I don’t think he’s had a fight since kindergarten. Joanie Myerson stole his Cheerios. It was ugly.”

“Those things usually are.”

“So an alley fight—when I heard, I was thinking there was no way. But it just got weirder.” She leaned against the wall and took a sip of her drink. “I don’t know about you, Agent Doyle—”

“It’s Ryan. But you can call me Doyle. Everyone does.”

“Well, I don’t know about you, but when he told me that his fight was with a werewolf …” She trailed off with a shake of her head. “Honestly, I thought he was a loon. And now—” Her brow furrowed, and she blinked, as if fighting back tears. “Sorry. I’m feeling a little bit overwhelmed tonight.”

“So you
did
just learn? That werewolves exist, I mean?” He hoped the answer was yes. Because that would mean that she was new to the Dark Warriors, and any culpability for what the group had done so far wouldn’t fall on her shoulders.

“I’m still not sure that they do,” she said. She shifted her weight against the wall. “No, I learned something else that was disturbing tonight. Actually, the whole evening has me on edge. I’m sorry—I usually make better small talk.”

He moved to share the wall with her and took a sip of
his own drink. The Scotch was smooth and it slid down easily. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No,” she said. “I really don’t.”

There was a familiar kind of pain in her voice. The kind that cut through a person when their world was shattered. He barely knew her, but despite all reason, he wanted to reach out and hold her and protect her. From what, he didn’t know.

But he swore to himself that somehow, someway, he was going to find out. And if it was within his power, he would find a way to ease her pain.

Andy tried to shake off the memories of her mom, not to mention the dark fear that everything her father had just told her about her was absolutely true. She wanted to go home and curl up in bed, but she couldn’t. Maybe later she’d have time to process everything she’d learned today, but right now she didn’t. Right now she was here, she was with Doyle, and she needed to keep her head.

Doyle
.

She shifted her position against the wall to look more directly at him. He’d come here with Travis Sullivan, an assistant district attorney with an eye on a senate seat. Exactly the kind of hook she’d been looking for when she asked Kevin to tell her which meet-up groups to join. Exactly who she’d wanted to meet when she begged him to get her in even deeper.

She watched as he stepped in through the balcony door, then poured himself a drink. She could walk over right now and introduce herself.

Except that now, with the news about her mother’s death and the revelation that her father was in deep with the Dark Warriors, ferreting out information about Travis was the last thing on her mind. The article that had seemed so important—seemed so far-off, like something she’d once dreamed. Maybe the dream would solidify again, but for the moment, her priority list had changed.

“Deep thoughts?” Doyle said from beside her. He was
watching her intently, and his gaze felt like fingers softly stroking her. There was an uncomfortable pleasure in the thought of that imaginary touch.

“Only as deep as this glass,” she lied, lifting her wine. From across the room, Kevin waved, and she thought about the expression she’d seen on Doyle’s face earlier, after she’d told him that Kevin was her cousin. He’d seemed pleased. Almost relieved. And she couldn’t help but wonder about it. Was he attracted to her?

The possibility swirled pleasantly inside her. She was probably reading too much into things, but she’d be lying to herself if she didn’t at least admit that she felt a little buzz when she was close to him. And that she’d felt it from the first moment she saw him at the prison, that instant zing of attraction that made her want to smooth her hair and check her makeup. Stupid, she knew, but she couldn’t help but think of what her father had said about the instantaneous connection between him and her mother.

Come on, Andy, get a grip
.

Her emotions were all over the place. She knew why, of course—it had been a crazy day. But she needed to rein it in.

“Andy—” Doyle began. Her name hung between them, full of promise. But she didn’t get the chance to find out what he was going to say, because Kevin came bounding up, breaking the spell.

“Some party, huh? Everyone wants to talk to me and Wes. I wish Stu was here. I can’t figure out why he’d blow us off.” He turned to Doyle and stuck out his hand. “I’m Kevin Whalton. I’m one of the guys that took down the werewolf.”

Something harsh crossed Doyle’s face, and for a moment
she had the impression that he was going to refuse to shake Kevin’s hand. Then the moment faded and he clasped her cousin’s hand in his own. “You must be very proud,” he said blandly.

“Are you one of Paul’s friends?” Kevin asked.

“I came with Travis,” Doyle said. “But I’m hoping to meet Mr. Vassalo. He’s got something very unique going on here.”

“So, how much of this stuff do you know already? I mean, for me, the other night was my first time. Have you ever fought a werewolf? A real one, I mean? Or a vampire?”

“As a matter of fact, I have. Both.”

Andy looked at him in surprise.

“Then you know what I’m talking about,” Kevin continued. “They’re evil, pure and simple. And there’s nothing to be done about evil except to destroy it.” He cocked his head toward Andy. “She’s still a skeptic.”

Doyle glanced sideways at her. “Is she?”

“You’ve piqued my curiosity,” Andy said, sidestepping the question. “How exactly does one recognize a werewolf? I mean, if I were to meet one in a dark forest? Or a vampire, for that matter, traipsing through a cemetery?”

“It isn’t easy,” Doyle said seriously. “Most vampires and werewolves look just like you and me. They have their day-to-day lives. They blend in.”

He was looking at her, only her, and the rest of the world seemed to fade away.

“That’s what makes them so hard to fight,” Kevin said, his voice breaking the spell. “Evil walks among us. Just like your dad always says. You have to be on guard all the time.”

“Is that right, Mr. Doyle?” She wanted him to look at her that way again, but he’d shifted his attention to Kevin, and she felt a sinking disappointment.

Paul stepped up to join the group. “Is what right?” he asked.

Kevin lit up like a shiny penny, all youth and eagerness. “Andy was just asking Mr. Doyle about how vamps and werewolves hide in plain sight.”

“Ryan Doyle,” Paul said, extending his hand. “I’m Paul Vassalo. Travis speaks highly of you. Tells me you’ll be an exceptional asset.”

“Doyle’s fought vampires,” Kevin said, his voice overflowing with awe. “Werewolves, too.”

“Is that a fact? How did you get sucked into our elite club? Most people are blissfully unaware of the danger that surrounds us.”

“My mother,” Doyle said flatly. “She’s the one who got me interested in fighting demons.”

“Demons?” Kevin asked.

“Aren’t they the common denominator?” Doyle asked. “All of the creatures you’re fighting—
we’re
fighting—are creatures of the night. The kinds of demons that live in hell. That animate the monsters that prey on the innocent.”

“And you’ve actually fought these creatures?” Paul asked.

Andy stared at Doyle, as interested in the answer as Paul was.

“I have. You could say it’s been something of a mission with me. I get pissed off when someone steps in and hurts the innocent.”

“I know how you feel. So tell me what you’ve done. What kind of monsters have you taken down?”

For a moment, Andy thought that Doyle wasn’t going to answer, and she fought the urge to intervene. This was a test, obviously, even if he didn’t realize it. And if he didn’t impress Paul, then he wasn’t going to be in the group. And for good or for bad, she wanted him in the group.

“Vampires,” Doyle finally said. “They’re the worst. The most vile. They were human once, but they let the darkness inside take over.” He shifted his attention from Doyle to Andy. “They destroy lives, and leave the survivors with hearts like charred ash.”

“Poetic,” Paul said. “And I must say I agree. You’ve actually taken one out? How?”

“More than one,” Doyle said. “And there are only two ways to kill a vampire. A stake through the heart works best. Nice and clean since it leaves no trace.”