I Want You To Want Me. Kathy Love
the silver cell phone on the nightstand, he flipped open the cover and scrolled through his short list of numbers to Ren’s. The line rang several times, before his brother answered.
“You have the worst timing in the world,” Ren stated.
“I try,” Vittorio said wryly, not in the mood for Ren’s complaints. He had one of his own. But he did ask, “Why? What did I interrupt now?”
“Maggie getting naked.”
Vittorio made a noise, not expecting that answer. Although knowing his brother, he probably should have.
“Then why did you answer the phone?”
There was silence on the other end, then a little hitch in Ren’s breath.
“Oh, for Christ’s sake,” Vittorio muttered. “You aren’t actually doing it, are you?”
“Not yet,” Ren admitted. “So I’d appreciate it if you made this quick.”
An image of what Ren would likely be doing to Maggie moments after hanging up the phone flashed through Vittorio’s mind. Then the image morphed into himself and Erika with her soft, pink lips and stormy blue eyes.
Do not go there.
He gritted his teeth, forcing down a frustrated groan. “Where are you?”
“Maggie and I are in Italy. Vacation, little brother, something you should look into. What’s going on?”
Vittorio had no idea how to explain what was going on. Nor did he really want to—not why he was in New Orleans, nor this crazy attraction to Erika. The intensity of it was irrational. A weird anomaly. Instead he took out his frustration on Ren.
“Why didn’t you mention that Maggie’s friend, Erika, was staying in one of your apartments?”
“Why would I?”
“Because I arrived here last night to stay in the upstairs apartment for a while and ended up scaring the shit out of her. She brained me with her cell phone.”
As Vittorio could have expected, Ren laughed. “Her cell phone? That’s pretty funny.”
“Yeah, it was a laugh riot.”
Ren’s laughter dwindled, although Vittorio could tell he was still grinning. “So she assaulted you with a phone. I’m sure you’re fine, what with being a big ole vampire and all.”
“Yes,” Vittorio admitted begrudgingly, “I’m fine. But I’m not happy about the whole thing. You could have told me she was here.”
“Well, if I’d known you were coming I would have. And why do you care if Erika is there or not?”
Vittorio heard Maggie’s voice in the background. Then Ren said, “You like her, don’t you?”
Vittorio didn’t suppress a growl. “What are you? A teenage girl? I don’t like her—I don’t even know her. I just—I just wanted to be alone.”
“Okay,” Ren said, but Vittorio knew he didn’t believe him. “What do you want me to do about it? I can hardly kick out Maggie’s best friend.” Then he lowered his voice and added, “I’m sure as hell not going to do it with the potential of kick-ass sex in my near future. I don’t think Maggie would be happy with me, if I did that. Not to mention, I don’t want to. Erika is nice. You should talk to her instead of acting like a miserable hermit.”
Vittorio growled again, both irritated with his brother’s assessment of him and his response to getting rid of Erika. He’d known Ren couldn’t, and shouldn’t, make her leave, but…
Ah, hell!
“When are you coming home?” he asked.
“Wednesday.”
Four more days. Hardly a long time in the life of a vampire, yet it felt like an eternity. He considered telling Ren why he was here, but then couldn’t. Ren would be home soon.
And Vittorio could avoid Erika for that short amount of time—and then he’d have his brother and sister-in-law back to run interference.
“Okay,” he said, mostly to himself.
“Okay. So play nice. And we’ll see you then.”
Abruptly, Ren hung up. He obviously had other things on his mind besides his brother being surprised by the harmless mortal woman downstairs.
Except she wasn’t harmless. She had him seriously rattled. And he wasn’t harmless to her either.
That was why he had to stay focused on finding out the truth. He rummaged around the darkness to find his wallet. And he had to start now. The more time away from Erika, the better.
Maksim followed Vittorio, staying a safe distance behind him, weaving in and out of the tourists crowding Bourbon Street. Just because he wasn’t a vampire, didn’t mean that Vittorio wouldn’t sense him. Vampires were very good at detecting other paranormal creatures.
But it was clear Vittorio wasn’t concentrating on anything but his own mission. His walk was fast and focused, his movements lithe and graceful with the inherent agility of the undead.
Irony, that. Zombies were such a clumsy lot, while the undead…poetry on two feet. He liked that about Orabella, among other superficial things. It was her personality that he found lacking. As well as her morals. The lack of morals didn’t bother him as much as her personality either, come to think of it.
Vittorio turned off Bourbon onto a side street. Maksim waited a moment before following, just in time to see him step through street-dirtied plastic curtains designed to keep the cool air-conditioning inside.
AC. Hallelujah!
Maksim pushed aside the plastic, breathing a pleased sigh as a gust of chilled air blew over him. Even the stale scents of cigarette smoke and beer didn’t dampen his pure bliss at the blast of cool air. But he only allowed himself a moment’s joy before searching the dingy darkness of the small bar.
Vittorio was already disappearing into a small back room. Damn. Even though the area didn’t have a proper door, it looked like a private portion of the bar, and was very tiny. Maksim would be noticed if he followed. Not to mention he’d be sensed. Demons had a particularly strong preternatural imprint. Easy to read in a closed space.
Instead he sat down at the bar in the main room, and waited. Vittorio would be out eventually. And Maksim would learn what had him nearly sprinting around the streets of New Orleans with that single-minded look on his almost angelically beautiful face.
“Sherri,” Vittorio greeted the bartender, one of his longtime acquaintances. He hesitated to call her a friend, since they never saw each other outside of this shabby back room. But he supposed in a strange way, they were.
“Vittorio,” she greeted with a smile. Her smiles always held a sardonic quality, as if she knew far more about you than she let on—and in many cases, he was sure she did. In fact, he was counting on it.
“You haven’t been in for a while,” she said, already reaching under the bar for a highball glass to make his drink.
“Been doing some traveling,” he told her. That gave such a pleasant ring to what he’d been doing.
“Nice.” She lifted the bottle of whiskey before pouring. “The usual?”
He nodded, sliding onto a barstool, pleased to see the room was empty. Too early for the type of crowd who came here. Vampires, the occasional werewolf and other forms of shapeshifters—and musicians, a sort of supernatural breed all their own. Ironically, Sherri was the only constant—and she was human.
She slid the whiskey on the rocks in front of him, but he didn’t immediately take a drink. Instead he got right to what he’d come here for.
“Do you remember Amanda?”
Sherri