“So that’s why you’re breaking up with me?” she asked, hating the whiny and weak sound in her own voice.
The woman spoke in the background. “Just hang up on her.”
“Don’t you dare,” Takala said. “Explain intense.”
“Insecure, clingy. You’re sweet, but …”
“But?”
“You scare me.”
The woman chuckled softly.
The knot in Takala’s throat grew baseball-size as she said, “You didn’t seem too scared when we slept together.” She heard her voice crack.
“That was different. You’re a good lay.”
“That’s all I am to you?”
“No, I mean—”
“Forget it!” Takala slammed the phone shut. Tears streamed down her cheeks in earnest, so much so that she couldn’t see to drive. She slowed and pulled the MINI over onto the shoulder.
“Everything okay?” Lilly asked softly.
“I thought he loved me. I thought he was the one, but he’s still in love with my older sister.”
“You’re rebound material?”
“I guess so.” Takala wiped at the hot tears on her face, smearing them across her cheeks.
“And you didn’t see it coming?” Even Lilly sounded surprised that Takala had been so unaware.
In all honesty, Takala had considered it. Akando had been betrothed to Fala, Takala’s older sister and the current Guardian since birth. It almost destroyed Akando when Fala chose Stephen Winter over him. Takala had been angry at Fala at first for hurting Akando; she’d had a crush on him since childhood. But it had not worked out because Takala had been there to nurse his emotional wounds. And she believed she could make Akando love her. Who would put balm on her own wounds?
Takala hiccupped and said, “I should have listened. My baby sister warned me not to get involved with Akando. I just didn’t want to hear the truth.” Why hadn’t Takala seen what was so obvious to Nina? Why was it Takala could read people in her line of work, knew the moment they were lying, but when it came to her love life, she was clueless? She thought of Fala and Nina. Both happily married to men who worshipped them. Why couldn’t she find someone? What was wrong with her?
Lilly Smith patted Takala’s shoulder. “Heck with him. You don’t want someone like that. There’s plenty fish in the sea.”
“I’m sick of trolling for them. I always end up getting the pointy end of the hook. Men are pigs.” Takala banged her head on the steering wheel, making the whole car shake.
“Tell me about it, honey,” Lilly said.
Takala felt Lilly Smith’s comforting hand on her shoulder, the hand of the woman who might possibly be her mother, and her sobs became uncontrollable.
Chapter 4
“You can’t take those.”
Striker shoved the sunglasses down onto the bridge of his nose and eyed the kid who’d just accused him of stealing. He looked about sixteen, with freckles and red hair, too young and naive to know he was annoying a vampire. Normally, Striker would have stopped to purchase the sunglasses and baseball cap, but he couldn’t let Culler and the woman out of his sight. He held the boy’s gaze while his will seeped into the young man’s conscience.
“I have paid for these,” Striker said, hypnotizing the kid with his eyes.
“Right, sorry, sir.” Like a puppet, the boy moved back behind the counter of the little gift shop.
Striker shoved the glasses back up on his nose, made sure the cap covered his hair, then he picked up a USA Today on his way out. He stepped into the flow of people moving toward the various airline ticket windows.
He spotted Culler and her friend about fifty yards ahead. It was hard to miss her companion, not because the scent of blood was all over her and his predatory sense of smell could find her in a twenty-story building in seconds, or that she was tall and head and shoulders above the crowd, but because she dressed like a rock star. Thick ginger-blond curls hung down past her shoulders. Her long legs were stuffed into tight black hip-hugger pants. Several spike belts of varying widths hung around her slender hips. She wore a tie-dyed T-shirt that left three inches of her flat belly showing. A pink scarf, dotted with blood, draped her neck. And over it a black leather bomber jacket. Silver studs spelled “Virgin” across the back of the coat. Black cowboy boots covered her feet and calves. Lethal silver points jutted from the tips of her boots. She held a small carry-on suitcase, and she kept scratching at the scarf around her neck. He didn’t much care for women who dressed ostentatiously or had an I-own-the-world air about them. The modest feminine medieval fashion for women was his favorite style, but that look was long gone, obsolete, just like that part of his life.
They went through the line, and Culler bought Rock Star a first-class ticket to Paris. On their way to Gate 5, they stopped at a row of shops.
Rock Star turned and looked nervously around. Striker was leaning on the wall near a water fountain, pretending to read the newspaper. She glanced past him as they paused at Arlene’s Tid Bits, a woman’s clothing boutique.
He zoned in his sensitive hearing and listened to their conversation.
“Let’s go in,” Culler said. “I need a toothbrush and makeup and clothes. It’s not fair. You carry an overnight bag in your car. I had to leave home with nothing.”
“Sorry.” Rock Star shrugged her shoulders. “Hazards of my job. When following people, you have to be ready at a moment’s notice to leave.”
What was her job? How deeply was she connected to Raithe? Rock Star could be higher up in his organization. What was the connection between Rock Star and Culler? Maybe Rock Star was the ticket he needed to find Raithe. By the enticing odor of her blood, he knew vampires would kill to have a taste of her. He’d like to see below the scarf. Was she just covering the scratches Tongue had left on her neck, or was Raithe’s mark on her neck? The thought brought a sadistic grin to Striker’s lips. He’d like nothing more than to find leverage with Raithe by using one of his own blood slaves. If she had been just a regular human, Raithe could easily replace her, and she would be useless to Striker. But this woman was a cut above, her blood like manna. Striker could only hope she was one of Raithe’s obsessions. An object Striker could definitely use.
“I suppose so,” Culler said.
“Look, I’m just gonna pop across the hall there, to the fudge shop. I can still keep an eye on you.”
“Don’t let that cretin make you fat. He’s not worth chunky thighs.”
Culler actually sounded like she cared. Striker thought she was the most talented liar he’d ever seen. She had to be to fool Raithe.
“This isn’t breakup eating. I’m just hungry.”
“Keep telling yourself that.”
Striker watched them part, Culler stepping into the clothing shop and her companion heading for the candy store. He kept an eye on Rock Star while she watched Culler. Kids and parents lingered in the store. The kids begged for everything. The parents picked and chose for them. Rock Star walked down the cases and found the fudge. She pointed to almost every type.
The clerk’s eyes widened in disbelief. He asked if he’d heard her correctly. She wanted three pounds of peanut-butter fudge, along with everything else.
“Yes, eating for two.” Rock Star patted her slender belly.
“Sure it’s not twins?”
“Sometimes I think so.” She smiled at the clerk,