Sucker Bet (Vegas Vampires #4)(6)
Author: Erin McCarthy

If he needed flippant, she could do that. "No, no more bodies. But it wasn’t for lack of trying."

Chapter Three

Nate Thomas let out a ragged laugh, dragging his hand over his mouth. God, like his day didn’t suck enough already, now he was almost caught crying like a baby by the blonde from the train station.

But at least she’d picked up on his discomfort and had let it drop. It didn’t sound like she was going to ask why he was just about blubbering on the elevator.

"Why didn’t you answer your phone?" he asked, noting the way she gripped it so tightly her knuckles were white.

It calmed him down to study her, to assess her behavior, to wonder what she was doing at the hospital, and how she might be connected to the victim at the train station. Something about her was off, and he didn’t understand what it was. And puzzling her out could help him to forget why he was at the hospital himself.

She glanced down at her cell phone and shook her head. "It’s someone I don’t want to talk to."

Someone she was angry with, if the pink spots of color on her cheeks were any indication. Her long wavy hair was also mussed, like she had tucked it back in irritation.

"Who? Your mother?" That was usually the person who pissed him off.

She gave a small shake of her head. "I wish." She hesitated for a fraction of a second, than said, "It’s my ex-husband."

"Ah." That would explain her defensive posture—straight back, chin high, shoulders squared.

The door opened on the ground floor, but she didn’t get off the elevator. "We’re here," he told her, gesturing to the lobby, not liking the way she was looking at him.

Like she no longer saw him as intimidating, an authority figure, but instead with pity.

"I’m sorry," she said. "Whatever it is, I’m sorry for it."

He didn’t pretend to misunderstand. He was too raw, too close to the edge. "Yeah, me, too."

She hesitated again, but then just stepped out of the elevator, turning her back to him. Her phone rang again in her hand. "Shit," she whispered, as her shoulders suddenly crumpled forward.

Nate moved up next to her. "What does he want?" he asked, not quite ready to leave. When he walked out that door, it would be real, and he didn’t want to deal with reality just yet. And he could argue with himself that the blonde could help him solve a murder. Hell, the blonde just might be the murderer, though every gut instinct he had screamed that wasn’t even close to the truth.

"He wants me back." She glanced over at him, her blue eyes sad, troubled. "He’s never been good at taking no for an answer."

There was a mix of both exasperation and fear in her voice. It bothered him. She was a very petite, fragile-looking woman, young. Mid-twenties at most. A part of her worried that her ex could hurt her, he could sense that. And he was good at assessing people. It was half his job as a homicide detective with the Las Vegas Metro Police. An overzealous ex might also explain why she’d taken to the fantasy of a vampire slayers’ group on the Internet. It was a way to exercise her version of control.

"How long since you split up?"

She squeezed the phone again, and glanced at the display screen, frowning at whatever was there. "Three years." Flipping the phone open, she pushed some buttons. "He texted me a message this time."

Three years was a long time after a divorce for a guy to still be pursuing his ex. "What does he say?"

Shrugging, she closed the phone and put it in her purse. "It’s nothing. He just wants me to call him."

"He just wrote ‘call me’?"

"Yes. Well, he added a now to it, because it irritates him that I ignore him. Why?"

"It sounds like he’s a problem." A problem that Nate understood. One he could deal with. What he couldn’t deal with was the image embedded in his brain of his baby sister lying in that hospital bed, all the life, vitality, and essence gone from her.

"He is what he is. I’m used to it."

"But you’re afraid of him, aren’t you?" Nate shoved his hands in the pockets of his jeans and watched for her reaction to his question. She actually looked startled.

"No, I don’t think so. Roberto would never hurt me, not physically, if that’s what you mean." She tucked a strand of that pale wheat hair behind her ear. "But… he’s very controlling. And what I think I’m afraid of is that when we’re together, when we were married, I was willing to compromise what I thought was right because of him. He made me stretch my moral boundaries. Do you know what I mean?" She looked at him earnestly. "I don’t want to be like that ever again."

Nate nodded, feeling his nerves settle, his near panic abating. He wasn’t going to lose it, not right then anyway. He had a handle on it. "I know what you mean. We walk the line, and some people help us pull one way or the other."

"And we can’t blame them really, we have to be responsible for ourselves, but we know it’s wrong, and so it’s better to stay away entirely." She shoved her cell phone in her purse, her previous bravado back.

Before he was even aware of what the hell he was doing, Nate said, "I’m headed to the coffee shop over there… care to join me?"

It wasn’t the need for caffeine that had him craving coffee, but the desperate desire to stay away from his house, where Kyra’s hospital bed loomed, and the pervasive sick smell clung to the carpet. He didn’t want to go home and he didn’t want to be alone. Gwenna Carrick looked like she needed company as much as he did. Despite her earlier words, he doubted she’d encountered a whole lot of dead bodies in her life, especially not one done up like a pretzel and crammed behind a ticket dispenser.

"Okay," she said without hesitation. But then she bit her lip and darted her eyes to the elevator.

"Are you here with someone?" He could read the signs, and he didn’t want to cause her complications. His own selfish need for distraction wasn’t justification for getting her in trouble with a boyfriend. Though he had to admit he was curious as to why she was at the hospital in the first place.

"No. My brother and I were both visiting a friend, but he came with his wife. He’s just very protective of me."

Not protective enough, given her night’s activities. "That’s good and not so good, I bet. It’s nice that he cares so much, but it probably cramps your style. Maybe he would have a point if he objected to you hanging out with a total stranger. You know, say at a coffee shop, or meeting up with someone you don’t know in a random place like a monorail station."

She made that face again, that ridiculous-looking pout that showed her distaste. "True," she said with a smile. "But I’d love a cup of coffee anyway, so shall we?"