More negative head shaking.
“And now someone else has the gown, namely, your kidnappers.”
A positive nod.
Vail shoved her across the bed, pressing her shoulders to the mattress, which reeked of mildew and dust. Pinning a knee across her thighs, he prevented her from the anticipated sneak attack of her knee aiming for his jewels.
“You’re lying,” he growled at her. “There was no sign of force or struggle in your bedroom.”
“Force? The whole damned window was taken out!”
“But you expected that to happen, which is why the rest of your room was pristine. As well, the gown has not been sold because that is something the entire Faery realm would be aware of—”
“If Faery is so aware, why don’t they go right to the ugly thing and get it?”
“It’s not …” Like that.
Faery sensed the thing, but couldn’t pinpoint it. Not without expert trackers, and someone had to actually be wearing the gown to give out the strongest vibrations. And apparently the Seelie court was not currently aware it was anywhere but at Hawkes Associates.
“You plotted your own kidnapping to steal the dress yourself. Admit it!”
“It wasn’t for the gown—it was to get away from Zett!”
Vail pushed from the bed and walked a few steps away. Breathing out and raking his fingers through his hair, he then chuckled. He’d gotten the truth from her much quicker than he’d expected.
But seriously? The chick thought Zett had planned to take her to Faery with him? Vail doubted that very much.
On the other hand, he wasn’t privy to all Zett’s devious kinks. It was possible the bastard wanted Lyric for reasons unknown. And she had intimated they’d met previously.
“I get it,” he said. “You saw an opportunity and took it.”
“You’re not going to take me back to my mother, are you? I need time.”
A touch of measured panic warbled in her voice. She didn’t want to go back, but at the same time, she was not afraid of such an outcome.
“Time for what?”
The vampiress looked aside, giving him her silence again. The streetlight adorned her profile, glistening off fine cheekbones in a tempting tease. It reminded him of the constant glimmer in Faery, and of what made him most comfortable.
“I am going to return you to your mother,” Vail said, forcing away the image of light-kissed skin, “but the deal was you and the gown. Where is it?”
“I fenced it already.”
“Liar.”
“Junkie vampire.”
“Junkie?”
“You sparkle. Around your eyes and at your neck. It’s in your skin. I know what that’s from. You’re a dust freak.”
He laughed again and pointed at his eyes, which were neither bloodshot nor clouded, which is what happened to dust freaks. “You think so?”
She nodded, knowingly. The vampiress could not begin to know him. Ever.
“Think what you wish. The faster I can get this damned assignment wrapped up the sooner I can be rid of you.”
“Just walk away. That’ll take care of your problem, like that.” She snapped her fingers.
Vail leaned over her. “So who’s the fence?” She gave him the side of her face again.
After her false accusation, he had no patience. He gripped her chin and forced her to meet his gaze. He considered enthralling her, but the little he knew regarding vampire-to-vampire relations was that a vamp couldn’t enthrall their own kind. Since arriving in the mortal realm, his power of persuasion had been frustratingly absent. And if he dusted her, she’d be worthless.
“I don’t have a name,” she offered.
“How do you contact him?”
“He calls me.”
Vail swung a surveying look around the small apartment. The place was merely a safe house, he suspected. It was empty, save the bare-mattress bed. Just a place to hide out until … Until? “Where’s your phone?”
“I … lost it.”
He narrowed his brows—then remembered. “I think I can help you with that.” Reaching into his back pocket, he drew something out and slammed the phone on the kitchen counter. “I guess I’m staying the night.”
“No! Where’d you get that?”
“Found it under your bed when I was looking through your room for clues.” He crossed his arms and kicked out a boot to put his weight against the counter. “I’m here until your fence calls, sweetie.”
“I hate you!”
“Not feeling much love for you, either.”
“I hate it all. I hate this place. I hate this awful, smelly bed.” She stood and kicked the bed frame, slamming the entire twin bed into the corner.
“Hey now, that’s no way to treat those pretty red shoes of yours, is it?”
“And I hate you again,” she retorted. “And I’m starving, which, thanks to you, my supper got off but he didn’t get me off.”
“Frustrated?” Vail ran a hand over his crotch.
She understood the signal. Tiny fists formed beside each of her thighs. Her plan had backfired, and now he would drag her home to her mother, kicking her pointy red shoes and screaming hate and damnation to high heaven. He couldn’t wait to do it.
The petulant vampiress stomped into the bathroom.
“Where you going?”
“Where does it look like?” She slammed the door shut.
