Chapter One I yawned. I couldn’t help it. It was terribly unprofessional and the man in the thousand-dollar suit in front of my desk didn’t appreciate it. Oh well. That’s what I got for staying for that last round of conga-line shooters. My best friend was getting married and I was the maid of honor. Just wouldn’t do for the maid of honor to bolt out of the bachelorette party before the bride. It didn’t help that I had been the only non-werewolf there, and that included the strippers. “I’m sorry, Mr. Vincent. I had a terribly late night last night. I’m listening.” “Do you know what they say about you, Ms. St. George?” Okay, so we were going to do a topic swap. I guess I deserved it considering I was half-asleep on his time. “I know what my peers whisper about me. Yet, here you are, despite it all. I can’t help but wonder why.” “I’m here because it is my understanding that you are the best candidate for finding Betsy.” I smelled the air and tried to determine if Matthew Vincent was lying to me or not. Yasmine was better at it than I was. The canine nose was far more acute than the feline. “I see. Can you give me a bit of background, please?” The frown on his face told me he’d probably been doing that already, but he was going to have to repeat himself. This time, I made the mental promise to pay attention. “Six months ago, Betsy and I received the news that she wasn’t able to have children. She was distraught, naturally, and turned to her friends for distraction. Patty, Patricia Vanderlane, encouraged her to join a club.” His tone of voice carried disdain and something else that prickled across my senses. I couldn’t put my finger on it, exactly, so I interrupted. “A club? What kind? Something like a book club?” “Only it seemed to specialize in Dracula.” I blinked at him, trying to gauge how serious he was. Yep, he meant what I thought he meant. There weren’t that many vampires in town and I knew them all, some better than others. I was afraid of where this was going. There was no way it could be good. “I don’t think I understand.” Yes, I was going to make him say it. Part of it was my contrary nature. This man was so conservative I bet he wore his underwear starched. The other part was that I might be able to gauge his response enough to give me a clue. There’s no way a man could say he thought his wife was having an affair with a vampire without giving something away. “I’m saying that Patty began to take Betsy to the Mystic Vantage where they were meeting with men who fancied themselves vampires.” Uh-oh. Considering I owned an exclusive membership to the Mystic Vantage’s private elite club, this couldn’t go well. “The Vantage is a popular haunt for a lot of different sets. Your wife was going for…?” I let my voice trail off so he would fill in the blank. He didn’t disappoint. “Sex, Ms. St. George. They were meeting for sex and God knows what else.” I expected fury, but what I got was well-rehearsed nothing. His words were bland, no true emotion at all. It made the affair sound so terribly ordinary. I fished for more. “So, you’re saying…?” “You know what I mean, Ms. St. George.” “Enlighten me, just to make sure I’m not jumping to conclusions here.” “I’m saying that Betsy fell into an inappropriate situation with a man who thought himself a vampire.” “And you know it was an inappropriate relationship, how? I mean a lot of married women go to the Vantage to dance, flirt, and generally cut loose for a little while. How do you know she was really having an affair?” Instead of answering, he reached down to pick up the briefcase he’d walked in with. Setting it on the seat beside him, he deftly twirled the combination locks to open it. I didn’t get a chance to examine what was in it because he pulled out a large envelope and snapped the case shut. He very politely held it over the second-hand desk without a single tremor in his hand. Biting back a groan at the all-too-familiar embossed seal, I took the file. “If you already had her investigated, Mr. Vincent, why not let Frank LeCroy finish the job?” “Because he sent me to you. He seemed to think he’d pursued the investigation as far as he could take it. He also said to tell you that the file is complete, though I don’t understand exactly what that means.” I did. Frank LeCroy was a Cajun who’d moved to town after Katrina devastated New Orleans. I could say a lot of disparaging things about him, but the bottom line? He was very good at what he did. Unfortunately, he fancied himself supernaturally friendly. Since that was my forte, he had been known to sabotage cases we were forced to share. He liked it when I had to call him to find the missing pieces. It drove me nuts. Trust him to be a man about it and not call to give me a heads-up on this one. I guess that was my penalty since he hadn’t withheld information, or so he said. I wouldn’t really believe it until I’d gone through the file myself. “It’s a bit of professional rivalry. If he sent you to me with a complete file, he must think I can help you.” “He said that you were the best at finding things that don’t want to be found in the underworld.” Wow. Sending me cases and compliments too. He wanted something. “Don’t believe everything you hear, Mr. Vincent. He’s still looking for an introduction to my more informative sources.” “So why don’t you introduce them?” His tone told me it was a question of honest curiosity, so I replied as honestly as I could. “Because I’m afraid he’ll put on a cocky attitude and they’ll eat him.” I glanced up to see shock on his face and bit back a grin. He looked like he was trying to decide if I was serious or had a seriously twisted sense of humor. The fact he seemed to be considering the logistics of my comment reinforced the reality of the situation. He really did believe in things bumping in the night. “I see.” I doubted he truly did, but didn’t correct him as I opened the folder to pull out the file. The edge of a full-color glossy slipped out and I opened the file. I blinked at the sight of a woman, presumably the missing Mrs. Vincent, and a man I didn’t know in what could only be called a compromising position. She had excellent taste in lingerie. “Is this the only man she dallied with?” “As far as we could tell, yes. He was the only one she met with while Mr. LeCroy had the case.” Well, if he was a vampire, I didn’t recognize him. I’d been out of the scene for a while so he could be a recent arrival. Even admitting that to myself, I doubted it because of the suspicious circumstances. Flipping through the file, I didn’t find anything else that might have warranted referral to me. It looked pretty cut-and-dry. Twice a week, she slipped out to meet her wanna-be-vampire lover, always after dark and always on the seedy side of town. None of the notes or reports said anything about suspicious or paranormal activity. On the surface, it appeared he was exactly what Mr. Vincent had said—a man who fancied himself to be a vampire. I gave in to my gut and asked my question. “Why did Frank really send you to me? What’s not in this file?” Closing the file, I looked my client in the eyes and waited. Somewhere in the last five minutes, I’d decided to take the case. Maybe it was the compliments. It didn’t look like my cup of tea, but even I needed the occasional “normal” case. “The night she vanished, her routine changed. She met her lover, but they disappeared. Mr. LeCroy didn’t see them leave. When she didn’t come home, he recommended I come to you.” “According to the missing-person report, your wife has been gone for over a week.” Silence stretched as he looked back at me. Maybe he was trying to determine what to say, but I didn’t think so. There was absolutely no expression on his face. If he were looking to hide details or lie to me, I would have been able to see it. Finally, he gave an almost imperceptible shrug and answered the question I hadn’t outright asked with a true questioning tone. “Maybe I was holding out hope she’d come home on her own?” “Or maybe you were hoping the trail would be so cold that I couldn’t follow it.” He broke eye contact. I was closer to the truth than he liked. “I’ll admit to being put off by the entire situation. It’s tawdry and messy. An affair is one thing. With proper handling, no one would know and we could avoid scandal. But this? Going missing in the arms of her lover? When the press gets wind of this, it’s going to be a nightmare.” He was worried about the press? “What do you do, Mr. Vincent? Professionally, I mean?” “You don’t know me?” He sounded genuinely surprised, but I couldn’t imagine why. He was hardly a Hollywood superstar. Mr. Vincent was too old, too conservative, and lacked that leading-man quality. Not that he was geriatric, but I put him near forty at a glance. While some men aged into a timeless sex appeal, he wasn’t one of them. “I’m a neurosurgeon. I was recently featured in USA Today for a procedure I developed to remove previously inoperable tumors.” Putting the file onto my desk, I leaned back and surveyed him. He had a lot to lose no matter how this panned out. I found myself wondering how he’d handled his life-changing news, especially since we knew how Betsy Vincent had reacted. Like most men, he’d probably wrapped himself in his work. “Did you want children?” The question popped out before I could think about how offensive it might sound. Doing my best not to cringe at the rudeness of it, I carefully watched my client for whatever clues his reaction could give me. He blinked and I had a revelation. The news had been that she couldn’t have children, not him. Dr. Matthew Vincent didn’t intend to stay married to his barren wife. Just like a man. Had she known it? A clue was a clue, so I waved my hand and let him off the hook and asked the next question on my mental list. “Never mind, Dr. Vincent. That’s really none of my business. I’m sorry for asking such an indelicate question. Do you want me to find her? Honestly?” He dropped his gaze to his hands clenched in his lap. True emotions flashed across his face. Guilt was prominent, but there was concern and anxiety too. “Yes.” Emotion made his voice unsteady. It was the first sign of humanity I’d seen in relation to his wife. Nodding, I moved on. “Okay, then this is where we go from here. I have to ask some pretty hard questions.” “And those weren’t considered difficult?” He had a point. All I could do was shrug and acknowledge it. Picking up the pen kept beside the phone, I pulled a pad of paper from the desk drawer and prepared to take notes. “Let’s say the difficulty level just went up. Did your wife work?” “No, she was a chemist but stopped working once my practice established itself.” Making the note about her profession, I marveled at his word choice. Established itself, he said. In short, she had been the breadwinner while he was struggling through medical school, residency and those first painful years of private practice. “Did she know you were planning to divorce her?” His gaze slid away from mine. When he finally answered, it was a pained whisper. “No, I don’t think so.” I added it to the list of facts even though I doubted it would be something I’d readily forget. “Is there anything else you can think of to volunteer that may give me a starting point? Likes, dislikes? Allergies? Something she was passionate about?” Dr. Vincent seemed to ponder for a moment before shaking his head. “The only hobby Betsy indulged after she gave up her job was Rodeo Drive.” I added trophy wife shopaholic to my list and did my best not to judge. The Vincents obviously enjoyed a lifestyle far different from my own. “Okay, Dr. Vincent. Considering it’s been a week since your wife went missing, I’m going to ask for a five-thousand-dollar retainer to grease the wheels of the system. I don’t usually ask for so much, but I may need some serious bribe money.” “So you’ll take the case?” I’d surprised him again. Good for me. From his expression, he’d expected me to send him packing. I probably should have, but something about this pulled at me. I didn’t know if I could find her, but I had to try. Besides, no one else was going to be able to help him if Frank LeCroy couldn’t. Next to me, he had the best eyes and ears in the underworld. “Yeah, I’ll take your case, but I’m not making any promises. I’ll do my best to find out what happened to her.” “You don’t think she’s still alive, do you?” The anguished tone made me think better of him. “Honestly? I can’t say. There are too many variables in play and she wasn’t in the best mental state when she disappeared. All I can promise is that if there’s a trail to find, I’ll find it.” “Thank you, Ms. St. George.” He unfurled his lanky frame from the chair and smoothed his slacks. I stood with him, not out of politeness, but because I hated feeling small. The doctor was too damned tall. He reached into the pocket of his suit jacket and handed me the long white sheet of paper he’d removed. Glancing down, I blinked. The certified check in my hand was made out to cash and was six figures. I dropped it like it was made of lava. “Dr. Vincent, that’s wayyy too much. I only need enough to offer up some bribes. I can’t promise I’ll find anything at all.” “Take it, Ms. St. George. It’s only money and if you find Betsy, you’ll be worth every penny.” He turned to go, leaving me gaping like a fish. “I can’t guarantee I can find her. We should set this up so you can get what I don’t use back.” “I don’t want it back.” He strode for the door with his briefcase in hand. “Take it, use what you need and keep the rest for trying.” With that cryptic comment, he disappeared through my empty lobby. I heard the bell above the door ring as he let himself out onto the street. Sitting down heavily, I looked at the check and tried to decide what to do. In the end, I walked down to the bank and deposited it. Since it was certified funds, I was amazed at how fast my bank account grew. The cashier assured me the funds would be available after the evening posting. Returning home in a daze, I let myself in the office door instead of going up the back steps like I usually did. While I waited for dusk, when the most likely suspects would be out to play, I pulled out my checkbook with some trepidation. For the first time in my life, I paid every bill I had as well as the payoff amount on my second-hand Chevy. Slapping the last stamp on the envelopes, I left them in a stack on the desk and went upstairs to get ready for my night on the town. Since I was already part of the “in” crowd at the Vantage, no special attire was necessary. Just the little gold pin clipped to my collar in case there was a new set of bouncers on duty. It had been a long time since my last visit, so I wasn’t banking on being recognized at first look. Now, if I were going to play, I’d have found something that screamed come and get me. Since I wasn’t, I passed over the leather pants and settled on slacks. Pulling on a shirt that was slightly snugger than it should be, I surveyed my reflection. Beauty wasn’t my claim to fame, but I cleaned up nicely when I had to. Makeup was a brush of eyeliner, shadow and lipstick. With a final check on my upstairs locks, I headed downstairs. Locking up my office in time to see the glorious sunset over the ocean, I took a moment to appreciate the twilight. My office/apartment sat on a hill with a fabulous view of the ocean. The mortgage was outrageous. But every time I saw that view, I knew it was worth every penny. There was even parking, hard to find in San Francisco. Those of us living in the surrounding buildings shared the tiny lot gladly. The herbalist next door poked her head out of her apartment window above her shop. “Out to play, Destiny?” “Always, Susan. You should try it. It’ll keep you young.” I didn’t know much about Susan’s story. She was of indeterminate age, her black hair going gray at the edges. She was kind and trustworthy, and that’s all that mattered in my world. “You’re only as old as you feel, Destiny, and I’ll be young forever. Go, have a good time. And make sure you leave the back-porch light on if you bring home a friend so I don’t call the cops if I see someone skulking out before dawn. Hate to have some poor fool locked up for being a prowler. He’ll never call you back!” We shared a laugh. She wasn’t going to let me live that one down. The guy really hadn’t called back, which was a shame since he had been a lot of…fun. “You know it. Can I get you anything while I’m out, though? I don’t think I’ll be very late.” “No, thank you. I’m probably going to walk up to Ned’s grocery and visit with his sister who’s up from Argentina. We’re sisters of the craft, you know.” I didn’t know, but I agreed anyway. Calling farewell, I climbed into my beat-up Cavalier. Yasmine liked to remind me that people would make assumptions about me based on my car, but I laughed it off. Let the world assume that I was a struggling college student. College may have been left behind, but the struggling part was still true. Besides, after tomorrow, the only one who owned it would be me since the bank would be happy that they hadn’t had to repossess it. The drive to the Mystic Vantage wasn’t a short one. It was a good half an hour away from civilization in a converted warehouse in the industrial district. In the daylight, it reflected the neighborhood around it and looked seedy. At night when the neon flashed, it promised wild nights and decadence. Like all things associated with alcohol, sex and fantasies, it seemed like exactly where you wanted to be in the dark; but when daylight came, you had to ask yourself how much was real and how much was desperation? Especially if you woke up with someone you didn’t know. The huge parking area was filling up fast, despite the early hour. I debated on whether or not to use the valet service provided for the elite members, but decided the walk would do me good. It still made me uneasy to be a part of that set where dues began at the five-figure mark. And that was before the decimal point. Had I paid for mine? No. It was a gift from the owner hoping to lure me further into his world. Was it working? Probably better than I’d like to admit. Or it had been working until I decided to go cold turkey. Even now, after my hiatus from the lifestyle, there was still a certain enticing mystique. I recognized the vampire at the door and felt the smile dawning despite my unease at being here. He met it with an answering smile but didn’t move down from his post. He signaled the man in charge of the rope to let me in. I breezed past the gatekeeper, glad I didn’t have to stand in the haze of his cologne. “Destiny, come to sample our…pleasures?” I rolled my eyes at Peter who apparently had drawn the short straw to be put at the door supervising the human bouncers who were holding back the growing line. “Yeah, your charm just couldn’t keep me away.” He slapped a hand that could only be called delicate across his heart and made a sound as if he were wounded. The sheer drama of it made my smile widen despite my best efforts. Peter was Roman. As in the Roman Empire, not a citizen of the Rome we know today. He would have made an excellent stage actor, if he could be bothered with such plebian pursuits. In his former life, he had been a senator before being seduced by a mysterious person of the East. That was as much of his story as I’d managed to glean. He was very good at deflecting curiosity. “Nonetheless, he will be glad you’ve come.” Like the really old ones, Peter didn’t call Marcus by name. In days gone by, the anonymity of the king had been what kept not only him alive, but also helped the group escape when the authorities were set to exterminate them. The vampires were a lot like a tribe of gypsies. Their king was their authority and the entire system was still slightly feudal. By rights, I should have known more about Marcus than I did. But if Peter was good at deflecting curiosity, Marcus was a master at it. Somehow, our conversations didn’t get around to answering my questions. Maybe he was better at distraction because he had my number in a way Peter never would. “Let’s hope so.” Even though I grumbled it under my breath, Peter heard it as he signaled the bouncer to open the door. The heavy base of the club music drowned out the sound of his laughter and I was glad for it. My last visit had ended badly. Marcus had been content to wait me out. And they said cats had patience. It always surprised me not to be stepping into a mass of people when I walked into the foyer, but the Vantage was laid out better than that. Most of the people were packed onto the central revolving dance floor on the main level. Two sweeping staircases on the sides of the foyer led to the elevated members-only areas. More public seating ranged closer to the bars stationed on each of the remaining walls on the main level. I took it all in at a glance before sweeping my gaze up the staircases to find the target of my visit. Marcus Smythe, his latest pseudonym, had a woman pressed against the sweeping banister on the staircase on my right. Closer examination brought the realization that his hands might be around her and on the banister, but it wasn’t him doing the pressing. She had herself practically glued to the front of his silk shirt and designer pants. Having fallen victim to his allure before, I could definitely relate to the feeling. Today, though, I was made of sterner stuff, or at least I hoped so. Crow never tasted good, but I’d be eating it before I could ask him to come down to examine the file photos. I trotted up the stairs without a second glance at the loitering bouncers beside them. They made no move to stop me thanks to the little gold pin on my shirt. Reaching Marcus, I slipped my hand on his arm and tugged. He let me pivot him as I moved past. Because of her insanely high heels, his would-be body decoration had to let go or risk being knocked down the stairs. Stopping a couple of steps higher, I turned to see a touch of laughter shining back at me from his face. I felt that bright, almost happy look all the way to my toes. “Pardon me for interrupting your takeout. You can have him back in a second, miss. Can you spare me a moment, Marcus?” “For you, always.” Even his voice was smooth as honey and absolutely without an accent. It promised all sorts of sinful things. Having experienced a wide variety of them, my body revved up against my better judgment. “Well, remember you said that in about five minutes.” I muttered it under my breath, but I knew he heard me. We’d see how far his always went after my apologies. Leaving him to make his amends with his date, I turned to climb the rest of the stairs, veering off toward the private alcoves once I reached the top. If I weren’t afraid he’d take it the wrong way, I’d have gone over to the personal elevator that rode up to his apartment for extra discretion. With my luck, he’d take the change in venue to mean I wanted to totally make up for our last fight. Since I wasn’t ready for that, I chose a private alcove with a sheer curtain where anyone could see us talking because talking was all we were going to do. Even reminding myself of it for the third time, I could hear the echo of the lady protesting far too much about her innocent intentions. Were my intentions totally innocent? Could I have turned to someone else to identify Betsy Vincent’s mysterious lover? Probably, but Marcus really was the shortest road down the path. After a week missing, short paths were the only way I could find her alive. If she was still breathing on her own, that is. Settling into the alcove facing the stairs, I watched the sexiest dead man I’d ever seen glide toward me. It took some effort to remind myself that alive was better than dead, any day. Really.