him. It should take an hour or two at the most. By then, maybe we’ll have more info from the Ocean Beach PD about the missing computer.”
“Or maybe something from the school’s security footage or Julie’s hard drive,” I add as I fish my keys out of my pocket.
Zack pulls out a couple twenties and calls out to the waitress.
I move to leave, but he reaches for my arm and stops me. “You had your gun out. Would you have shot Wade?”
“Depends.”
“On?”
“Whether he tried to hurt you.”
CHAPTER 9
When I arrive at the Palomar Hotel, I’m told by Ernesto, the valet, that Kallistos is out on business. The twentysomething is sporting a pin-striped vest with matching trousers and his ever-present bowler hat. His dark eyes, accentuated by kohl liner, take in everything.
Ernesto isn’t just a valet; he’s also a vampire. Young and eager to please. In addition to parking cars and carrying luggage, it’s his job to keep track of all of the guests’ comings and goings, and to report anything unusual up the chain—to Kallistos. My arriving this early in the day is unusual. He’s furiously texting someone. My guess? Kallistos. He tries to hide his discomfort as he takes my keys.
“Let me get you a claim ticket,” he says, stalling.
He checks his phone. Takes off his hat and wipes his forehead. Checks his phone again. This time whatever he reads brings a smile.
“I’ll take you right up,” he says. Then he hands my car keys off to one of the other valets and takes my computer bag.
“Do you know when Kallistos is expected back?” I ask as we walk through the great swinging door into the lobby. On the way to the elevators we pass staff preparing the space for the downtown happy-hour crowd. Several nod. Others are too busy lighting candles and laying out drink menus to notice.
“Less than an hour. Shall I send something up? Charlie’s behind the bar tonight. She makes a mean pomegranate martini.”
We pass underneath the chandelier that hangs over a cluster of sofas and chairs. A collection of lights that resemble jellyfish hang from the ceiling, casting a soft glow, setting just the right mood. I check the time. It’s four thirty.
“I think I’ll wait for Kallistos.”
Ernesto nods. The short ride up to the penthouse is uneventful. He leaves me alone with a promise to have drinks sent up whenever we’re ready. I toss my bag on the sofa along with my jacket, then head upstairs.
I’m not sure why I’m here. Since Kallistos isn’t, why didn’t I go home to work? I could have reveled in privacy and solitude. Had Ernesto page me when Kallistos returned.
And yet, here I am.
I toss my keys on the table beside the door.
Maybe I’m not sure where home is anymore. Maybe I’ve found it. Kallistos knows I can’t allow myself to fall in love or allow anyone to fall in love with me. More important, he knows the cost. He’s a realist. He accepts it. While his pragmatic approach may not be particularly romantic, it is a relief. Liz is convinced we’re the perfect match—a vampire who makes no demands, except forthe most exquisite sexual ones, and the Siren who can fulfill those demands without sacrificing her heart.
* * *
When I enter the bedroom, my eyes are drawn to Kallistos’ private writing table. My lover may be a vampire King, but he’s also a businessman. The eighteenth-century Louis XVI mahogany piece arrived shortly after Kallistos decided to remain in San Diego. I realize that although it appears to be well used, I’ve never witnessed him sitting behind it. I pull out the chair and run my fingers over the leather-inlaid top. When they brush the keyboard, the desktop computer comes to life. A calendar is displayed. My breath hitches. No password. No security. Why?
Because no one has unsupervised access to this room.
Except for me, now.
Today’s appointments are all right here. A click of a button and I’ll be able to see the days, weeks, months ahead. My hand
“Or maybe something from the school’s security footage or Julie’s hard drive,” I add as I fish my keys out of my pocket.
Zack pulls out a couple twenties and calls out to the waitress.
I move to leave, but he reaches for my arm and stops me. “You had your gun out. Would you have shot Wade?”
“Depends.”
“On?”
“Whether he tried to hurt you.”
CHAPTER 9
When I arrive at the Palomar Hotel, I’m told by Ernesto, the valet, that Kallistos is out on business. The twentysomething is sporting a pin-striped vest with matching trousers and his ever-present bowler hat. His dark eyes, accentuated by kohl liner, take in everything.
Ernesto isn’t just a valet; he’s also a vampire. Young and eager to please. In addition to parking cars and carrying luggage, it’s his job to keep track of all of the guests’ comings and goings, and to report anything unusual up the chain—to Kallistos. My arriving this early in the day is unusual. He’s furiously texting someone. My guess? Kallistos. He tries to hide his discomfort as he takes my keys.
“Let me get you a claim ticket,” he says, stalling.
He checks his phone. Takes off his hat and wipes his forehead. Checks his phone again. This time whatever he reads brings a smile.
“I’ll take you right up,” he says. Then he hands my car keys off to one of the other valets and takes my computer bag.
“Do you know when Kallistos is expected back?” I ask as we walk through the great swinging door into the lobby. On the way to the elevators we pass staff preparing the space for the downtown happy-hour crowd. Several nod. Others are too busy lighting candles and laying out drink menus to notice.
“Less than an hour. Shall I send something up? Charlie’s behind the bar tonight. She makes a mean pomegranate martini.”
We pass underneath the chandelier that hangs over a cluster of sofas and chairs. A collection of lights that resemble jellyfish hang from the ceiling, casting a soft glow, setting just the right mood. I check the time. It’s four thirty.
“I think I’ll wait for Kallistos.”
Ernesto nods. The short ride up to the penthouse is uneventful. He leaves me alone with a promise to have drinks sent up whenever we’re ready. I toss my bag on the sofa along with my jacket, then head upstairs.
I’m not sure why I’m here. Since Kallistos isn’t, why didn’t I go home to work? I could have reveled in privacy and solitude. Had Ernesto page me when Kallistos returned.
And yet, here I am.
I toss my keys on the table beside the door.
Maybe I’m not sure where home is anymore. Maybe I’ve found it. Kallistos knows I can’t allow myself to fall in love or allow anyone to fall in love with me. More important, he knows the cost. He’s a realist. He accepts it. While his pragmatic approach may not be particularly romantic, it is a relief. Liz is convinced we’re the perfect match—a vampire who makes no demands, except forthe most exquisite sexual ones, and the Siren who can fulfill those demands without sacrificing her heart.
* * *
When I enter the bedroom, my eyes are drawn to Kallistos’ private writing table. My lover may be a vampire King, but he’s also a businessman. The eighteenth-century Louis XVI mahogany piece arrived shortly after Kallistos decided to remain in San Diego. I realize that although it appears to be well used, I’ve never witnessed him sitting behind it. I pull out the chair and run my fingers over the leather-inlaid top. When they brush the keyboard, the desktop computer comes to life. A calendar is displayed. My breath hitches. No password. No security. Why?
Because no one has unsupervised access to this room.
Except for me, now.
Today’s appointments are all right here. A click of a button and I’ll be able to see the days, weeks, months ahead. My hand
Similar Books
