Zane’s Redemption (12 page)

Zane pulled out the pin and the key from his jeans pocket and tossed both at Quinn who caught them effortlessly. “I found these on him.”

Quinn perused the items. “The key looks like it belongs to a locker.”

Zane nodded. “I came up with the same. How about the pin? Have you ever seen this symbol before?”

Quinn shook his head and twisted the item in his hand. “Hmm. Odd, those two parts,” he commented. “That wave in the middle could be a river, but it could also indicate that something is broken in half.”

He held the pin closer to his eyes. “The one symbol on the top of it looks like a ‘u’ without the down stroke but with a handle to the right instead. And the symbol below is its mirror image.” He looked up. “Could it signify some mathematical equation?”

Zane reached for the pin, taking it from Quinn’s hands to give it another look. He’d stared at it for hours after he’d killed Brandt’s son, but couldn’t make heads or tails of it.

“I’ve never seen a mathematical symbol like this.”

“Maybe the broken line in between means the two pieces belong together,” Quinn suggested.

Zane refocused his eyes and imagined the line gone. As the two pieces moved closer to each other, they formed a symbol he was only too familiar with.

“It’s a broken Swastika.”

“You sound surprised. Given who the man was you killed last year, you shouldn’t be.”

Zane shook his head. “I never found anything like this on Brandt or the others. So why on his son? And why break the Swastika in half? Why not admit to what they are?”

“Maybe the broken line means something else.”

Unease skidded over Zane’s back and crept up to his neck. “It’s too obvious. I don’t like it. Almost as if the old guard is still there, but now their children have taken over and put their own stamp on things.”

“To do what? The Nazis will never rise again. No government on this planet will allow it.”

“What if they don’t look like Nazis? What if nobody realizes that they're one and the same, just dressed up differently?”

Quinn took a deep breath. “I think you’re reading too much into this. The guy wanted to avenge the death of his father, that’s all. Anybody would have done the same. It doesn’t mean there’s a grand conspiracy behind all this.”

“What are you saying? Spit it out!”

“Have you ever thought that you might be getting a little paranoid, believing that they're still after you?”

Zane jumped up, the dog in his lap sliding off him, whining in the process. “Paranoid? You think I’m paranoid? Brandt said he couldn’t wait to tell Müller that he’d found me. He’s still out there somewhere.”

Zane pointed his hand toward the window, his gaze instinctively following its direction. Somewhere, that bastard was still hiding and living a life he didn’t deserve.

“Maybe it’s time to quit,” Quinn suggested.

Zane snarled, allowing his fangs to descend to underscore his disapproval. “I will quit when Müller is dead and not a minute earlier.” He raised his hand, clenching it the way he would wrap it around Müller’s neck right before he strung him up by silver chains and hung him out to wait for the rising sun. A stake was too good for Müller. Too humane.

“It’s eating you up.”

“What are you, my psychiatrist? I thought we were friends, but if that’s too much to ask for, you know where the door is. Use it.” He needed no friend who didn't have his back, or would try to lead him away from his mission.

Quinn sighed. “What do you need me to do?”

Relieved, Zane gave a nod of approval. He would never admit it, but if Quinn had decided to leave, it would have been hard to take.

“Send out a drawing of this symbol to your contacts and she if anything shakes. Somebody has to have seen it before. It must mean something.”

“Do you know anything else about the assassin?”

Zane shrugged. “He had a South American accent. To be expected from Brandt’s son, but his English was good. It tells me he’s been in the country for a while. He had nothing on him but the key, the pin, and a few coins. Even if he lives in this country, he would have had to stash his ID and some money somewhere. I suspect there’s a locker somewhere. He also mentioned that Müller would reward him.”

“So, he sent him.”

“Possibly. But Müller doesn’t seem to know where I am. More like the guy was on a little freelance mission.”

“I’ll check it out. We should be able to find something on the symbol, and the key should be routine. I’ll start at the airport and see whether he used a locker there. It would be the most logical place if he flew in from out of town.” Quinn paused, then smiled. “And now that the nasty business is out of our way, tell me what’s really going on.”

Zane slumped down on the sofa. Instantly, the dog made puppy eyes at him. He slapped his hand on his thigh once, and the animal jumped into his lap.

“Nothing new, same old, same old.”

And that answer would be the extent to which Quinn would hear of that subject. No way would Zane talk about his current assignment and more specifically about Portia, the woman who’d scrambled his brain as if she’d tossed it in a blender and flipped the switch.

***

Portia looked away and pretended to be interested in the food on her plate. The cafeteria was virtually empty. Oliver hung around the door, watching yet giving her privacy. She and Lauren had skipped a class to have time to talk. Now she wished she’d never said a word about what was bothering her.

“That nasty dude? You’re kidding, right? Please tell me you’re kidding,” Lauren urged and placed her hand over Portia’s forearm.

Portia shook her head. “When he kissed me …” Her world had turned upside down with that one kiss. She’d suddenly realized what she’d missed out on all these years.

“You can do better than him,” Lauren claimed.

“Funny, he said the same thing.” But she didn’t buy it. Why would any man who was attracted to her—and he clearly was—turn down her offer of no-strings-attached sex? “He’s out of his mind.”

Lauren raised her eyebrows. “You both are! You can’t do this, not with somebody like him. I mean, can you imagine his bald head hovering over you while he’s … eww!”

“I find his head attractive, and actually, I think he’s quite sensitive there.” It hadn’t escaped her that he’d shuddered when she’d caressed his scalp. And how he’d wanted her to do it again.

“Eww!” Lauren waved her hands before her face. “Erase, erase, erase! You can’t sleep with him.”

“Don’t go all Mother Teresa on me. Besides, he turned me down. I mean, can you believe it? As if I were some ugly duckling.” It had hurt having put herself out there only to be coldly rejected.

“He what?”

“You heard right.”

“What an asshole! He has no business rejecting you. He should be grateful that you even considered him. Who does he think he is?”

The hottest guy she’d ever laid eyes on
, Portia wanted to scream but refrained from the urge, not wanting to give Lauren more ammunition to use against her.

“Exactly,” she tossed out instead.

“He can’t get away with that! How dare he treat you like you’re a wallflower? Jerk!” Lauren pounded her fist on the table, making the trays on it rattle. A student sitting close by glanced at them, before dropping his head back into his book.

“You can have any man you want, Portia.” Lauren let her eyes glide over Portia’s body. “You’re pretty, you have a great body, nice boobs. Any guy would be happy to do you.”

Portia cringed at the crude words.

“Sorry,” Lauren said sheepishly. “I’m just calling it the way it is.”

“Right.” But Portia didn’t want any guy; she wanted Zane.

He was the first man who’d ever made her feel anything. Her body had hummed under his touch, his kiss so searing hot she’d thought she’d go up in flames. With him, she wasn’t afraid that her first time would be some tepid, clinical affair. If Zane touched her and made her a woman, she knew she would enjoy it despite what he’d warned her about.

She didn’t believe that he would be cruel to her. His kiss hadn’t been cruel. On the contrary, he’d coaxed her. Yes, he’d been demanding, but he’d waited until she’d allowed him to go further. And when he’d licked her fangs, she’d practically exploded. She’d had no idea how arousing it was to have another vampire caress her fangs like this. With so much gentleness, yet so much passion.

“What will I do now?” Portia lifted her head and stared at her friend.

Lauren gave a resigned smile. “Are you sure I can’t talk you out of this?”

Portia nodded. “I want him.”

“What exactly did he say when he rejected you? And be specific; don’t leave anything out. Every word is important.”

Trusting in her friend’s experience with men, Portia nudged forward on her chair and lowered her voice. There was no need for anybody to overhear what she had to say.

Chapter Twelve

When Portia heard the front door opening without having heard a car drive up, she knew it was Zane. She wondered why he didn’t drive but walked instead. It could only mean that he didn’t live far. She made a mental note to put Lauren on the task of finding out where he lived. She was sure that Lauren, as the mayor’s daughter, had a way of finding out Zane’s address. There was a chance it could come in handy one day. She wasn’t going to leave anything up to chance.

Portia glanced in the mirror. Her low-rider jeans showed off her flat stomach, and the t-shirt was at least a size too small and short enough to leave her midriff bare while it stretched tightly over her boobs. She had to admit that Lauren was right: she had decent boobs, full and round, and actually a little more shapely than most of her fellow students.

As a hybrid, she had developed faster during her teens, and her body was more mature than that of a nearly twenty-one-year-old human. Just as well: it would be dreadful to be stuck with a gangly teenage body for the rest of her life. But the body she had now, she could work with.

One way or another, Zane would give in to her. Even if she had to throw herself at him. She had five weeks left, and during those five weeks she would chisel away his resistance. No man could be that stoic and say no to something that was dangled in front of his nose every single night, not even Zane. He would crack sooner or later. Did that make her just a tad desperate?

Portia blew out a big breath and planted her legs wider apart, placed her hands on her hips and tried a seductive look in the mirror. She cringed. Maybe she needed a little more practice with that look. It didn’t appear quite right yet, unless Zane was turned on by a cheesy grin accompanied by some waggling eyebrows. Maybe some more lipstick, she mused, and twisted the cap off her latest acquisition. As she dabbed her lips with more of the blood-red color, she knew she couldn’t stall any longer. The night wouldn’t last forever, and eventually Zane would be gone to be replaced by Oliver again.

Her hands clammy, she turned the door handle and left her room. Her heart beat so loudly, she was sure Zane could hear it downstairs in the living room. Slowly, she walked down the stairs, her bare feet making barely any sound. Only the creaking of several steps echoed through the old house. When she reached the landing, she could tell from Zane’s stiff posture sitting in an armchair that he’d already heard her.

“Hi.”

He looked up briefly, muttering an indistinguishable greeting, and lowered his head again to read the magazine he was holding. Or pretend to read. His eyes didn’t appear to move from left to right, but seemed to stare at some random spot on the page.

Zane wore what he always wore: tight-fitting jeans, a black long-sleeved shirt, and boots that looked like he could kick the shit out of someone with them. His leather coat hung over a chair near the entrance. And damn it if that simple outfit didn’t make him look like sex-on-a-stick. Why Lauren insisted his bald head was unattractive, Portia didn’t understand. She had, in fact, never seen anybody who carried the loss of hair off the way Zane did, with his ‘take it or leave it’ kind of attitude, as if he didn’t give a shit what anybody thought of him. Maybe that’s what she liked most about him.

Liked? That was too strong a word. She didn’t really ‘like’ him—more like she had the hots for him—and that was a totally different cup of tea. ‘Like’ had nothing to do with it.

“Are you done looking?” Zane grunted.

Shit! She hated it when he called her on it like that. She could only hope that she hadn’t been drooling.

“Not much to see; you’re wearing too many clothes.”

His head shot up, his narrowed eyes glaring at her. “That kind of talk is dangerous.”

She took a few steps in his direction, easing closer. “Afraid of me?” Surprised at her own boldness, her pulse beat faster and more erratic than before.

He scoffed. “Don’t you have homework to do, baby girl?”

Annoyance kicked in, lending her courage. “If you think by calling me ‘baby girl’ you can fool yourself into thinking I’m not a grown woman, go ahead.”

Zane’s knuckles gripping the magazine turned white. She was clearly getting to him, just as she’d anticipated. Unfortunately, however, instead of turning him on, she was pissing him off. Perhaps she wasn’t that good on the flirting front. And why would she be? She’d never felt the need to flirt with anyone before, so she’d never bothered.

“I don’t care if you’re a grown woman. How often do I have to repeat myself? I’m NOT INTERESTED in you!”

Shocked by his violent outburst, she swiveled on her heels and headed for the kitchen. “Liar,” she mumbled to herself before she tore the door open and went for the fridge.

Well, that was going brilliantly! Lauren had warned her that a man like Zane wouldn’t be swayed easily. After this disaster she had to check in with her friend to see how she should proceed now. Lauren had a lot more experience with men. She would come up with something to salvage the situation.

Portia grabbed a coke, needing the sugar and caffeine rush, and closed the fridge door.

A split-second later, she found herself pressed against the cool stainless steel surface. Zane’s face was inches from hers. The coke can dropped from her grip and landed on the floor, making a loud noise on the tiles.