The Real Werewives of Vampire County
Sure he looked like sex on wheels, but that didn’t mean I was going to serve myself up with a sprig of parsley between my teeth.
His lips parted. “I do want to bite you.”
“Do it and I stake you.”
Why hadn’t I brought a stake?
“Don’t worry, little werewolf,” he said, sending a shiver down my spine. “I’m always in control.” He held my gaze a second longer than he needed. “As for tonight, follow my lead. Remember, the less contact you have, the better.”
Maybe I could find a nice tree branch.
I nudged the hem of my dress to make sure I wasn’t giving any more free shows. “Anything else, your brood-i-ness?”
He cocked a grin. “You said you knew the plan.”
Oh sure. The plan: Keep quiet. Look pretty. I need you until I don’t need you.
I leveled a perfectly glossed fingernail at him. “Keep in mind that you picked me. I’m the best interrogator you have.”
He seemed amused at that. “Interrogator? Yes. Investigator? No.” His voice lowered a notch. “You do not handle the case. I do. You get them alone later and you question them. But for now, you don’t talk.”
“You’re an ass.”
He didn’t react. Stone-cold Luke this one was.
At least he knew what he was doing. According to what Finnegan had told me this afternoon, Lucien Mead was one of the Vampire Council’s top guys. They brought him in to handle tough cases like this—at least ones that could result in war. I had no problem following his lead—as long as he didn’t force it.
I wrangled halfway through the space between the two front seats to get a better look at the doom that lay straight ahead. Oh my God, they had mint tins.
“You are here to be pretty. You are here to be vapid.”
I slammed back into the seat next to him. “Oh yes. Like the time I was too busy painting my nails to wrestle down a banshee and force him to give up the rest of the murdering horde.”
“Heather—” Lucien leveled an icy gaze at me.
“Lay off the tall, blond, and frigid act. I’ve got enough problems.” I rubbed at my eyes, leaving a sparkly blue eye shadow streak on the back of my hand. Great, just great. I wiped it on the back of my dress where no one would see.
“Think before you act.” He planted a hand on the seat back behind me. “You are the only one who can learn the truth and prevent this war.”
Oh yeah. No pressure there.
He had this whole calm and collected investigator persona down pat. But I was an interrogator. And I was good at my job precisely because I was willing to do whatever it took.
Like pretend to sleep with a vampire.
“Drive casually,” Lucien said to the driver as we drew near the crowd.
“No problem, boss.” The ponytailed driver eased us between two party rental trucks.
“He’s staying in the car, right?” The guy looked like he should be working as a bouncer at a nightclub instead of driving a pair of pretend socialites. He also needed a shave.
The driver cocked his head toward me, silver rings piercing his right eyebrow and a black spike earring dangling from his left lobe. “His name is Vinny,” he drawled with an unmistakable New Jersey twang, “and you bet your ass I’m getting out.”
“Vinny is my daytime eyes and ears,” Lucien explained.
“Vinny would never even make it through a metal detector.”
“Oh yeah? Fine.” Vinny turned around and I about fell over as his hair shimmered from jet-black to white. Not only that, it shortened into a close-clipped haircut.
The scent of wood and grass filled the car. “What the—” I watched Vinny’s hands on the wheel age right in front of my eyes. His black T-shirt morphed into a silver suit jacket. His scraggly near-beard faded. By the time we parked, he looked like Jeeves the butler.
“Satisfied?” Vinny asked, with the same rough Jersey accent. Hardly. “What are you?”
The old butler grinned back at me. “I’m special.”
No kidding.
“Stop showing off,” Lucien said, as Vinny got out of the car to come open our door.
I didn’t know what to think—about Vinny or Lucien or this entire situation.
“One question,” I said, as we watched Vinny circle around the front.
I knew all about my role in this—and I had the lipstick on my teeth to prove it. But I sure as hell didn’t know what Lucien the super cop was up to—or what he wanted. What did the council care if the vampires slaughtered a pack of wolves?
Lucien closed his hand over mine as Vinny made a great show of standing by the door, preparing to open it. “Why are you two doing this?”
Lucien gave me a quick squeeze. “Because you’ll never set foot outside if you see the karaoke machine.”
“Call the guard, the vampire made a joke.”
“Heather”—he looked at me, really looked at me, for the first time—“I’m here because I want to know the truth,” he said, a determined slant to his jaw, “just like you.”
Vinny opened the door. Jazz piano music flooded in. From the middle of the street at ten o’clock at night. This was weirder than that coven of narcoleptic werebats we busted a while back.
Lucien stood outside the car, his hand extended to help me. His grip was firm and left no room to wrangle.
Deep breath. This was a special assignment, an important one that only I could do. I didn’t want to let my Alpha down.
Lucien took my hand once more, his grip cool and strong. “Relax. You’ll do great.”
“I know,” I said. I’d never been so plucked, sprayed, and manicured in my life. I’d fit in. We’d find the Predators. We’d get to the bottom of this.
A brunette with a heart-shaped face and a sleek red sundress sauntered toward us on ice pick heels. “Mitzy, Luke!” she exclaimed. “Look everybody, the Dukes have arrived!”
I turned to him. “Luke Duke? You’ve got to be kidding.”
He squeezed my hand. “Don’t talk.”
The waif-like woman stopped in front of us and smirked. “Nice earrings.”
My stomach lurched. There was nothing wrong with my red hoop earrings. I’d matched them to my shoes.
“I’m Francine Sharp,” she continued, as if she hadn’t just insulted me, “head of the welcoming committee.”
And a Predator. This was shaping up nicely.
Francine was also a werevulture from the smell of it. She fingered the gold locket at her neck, openly eyeing my fake husband.