Reborn

Chapter Twenty-five

“You two are new around these parts.”

Della backed up. He looked to be in his early twenties, but he also seemed as if he’d had a rough life. He looked her up and down and then glanced at Chase.

“Since you don’t seem to be her type, I thought she might like me better.”

So the creep had been listening. Not that she hadn’t been eavesdropping on him and his friend. But their talk about how they’d played football in high school hadn’t been all that interesting.

“We’re just having a bit of a tiff,” Chase said, his voice deepening. “She’s with me.”

“Is that right, Sweetie?” he asked Della. “You know, at first, I thought you worked here. You know, as a professional girl.”

Had he just told her she looked like a prostitute? She frowned. “First, I don’t work here. Second, my name’s not Sweetie. And third, if I’m anyone’s girlfriend, I’m his.” She turned to Chase, and when he tilted up his mouth in a wicked almost grin, she rolled her eyes. “Which I’m not,” she added quickly.

“A shame,” the half-drunk vamp said, his gaze shifting back to Chase. “You see, I’m not an acquired taste, I’m delicious from the first bite.”

He showed his canines—which could use a good brushing—and Della suspected the pun was intended.

But that didn’t stop him from stretching his arm across the back of Della’s chair and touching her hair. She’d like to play with his hair—as in grab ahold of his ponytail and give him a good swing across the room.

“Where are you two from?” he asked. His touch stirred at her neck and she suppressed a shiver. And not the good kind!

Della debated breaking the guy’s fingers. She could reach back and crack his bones before he could say uncle. But she didn’t know if playing along for a few minutes might get some information.

“I’m from California,” Chase said. “She’s from the Houston area.”

“What brings you from California?” Ponytail asked Chase, tilting his head to the side as if listening for an untruth. Della tried listening, too, but couldn’t tune in. Instead of worrying, she studied Chase’s expression.

“My mother moved here,” Chase said.

The jerk sitting beside her appeared satisfied that Chase spoke the truth. Yet, hadn’t Chase told her his mom was dead? Yes, he had, and she’d listened to his heart beat to the truth then, too. Della recalled how Chase’s eyes shifted to the left when he’d just answered the half-drunk vamp. She’d heard that eyes shifting to the left was a small sign of someone lying.

She’d been right not to trust him. She tucked that info away to concentrate on the problem at hand. “Hand” being the key word. The creep’s palm was slipping under the collar of her shirt to touch her lower neck right now.

She shifted her shoulder, as if to shoo away a pest, hoping he’d take a hint.

He didn’t.

Chase’s gaze shifted to her collar. His eyes brightened with discontent. But if anyone was going to teach this jerk a lesson, she was. She cut Chase a glare that said stand down.

“I’m looking for someone,” Della said, struggling to ignore the man’s touch. “I think he was newly turned. Short dark hair.”

“Is he one of those twelve guys you just told this boy you’d prefer to be with right now?” The man nodded at Chase, but didn’t look at him. Good thing, too, because the quick glance she got wasn’t pretty. Fangs out, eyes a neon green.

“Yeah, I’d rather be with that guy.” She focused on the jerk, knowing her heart sang to the truth. She’d rather be with Lorraine’s killer right now. She even hoped he’d give her a fight, so she could give some fight back. Teach him a few lessons before she turned him over to Burnett.

The jerk nodded. “I heard a fresh turn was in the area last week. The Juggler gang was trying to recruit him.” The jerk’s fingers slipped farther inside her collar, all the way to her shoulder. Her skin crawled, but she wanted answers more than she hated his touch.

“Where can we find the Juggler gang?”

“Don’t know. I don’t belong to any gang. Don’t need ’em. I can take care of myself. Of course, every now and then I like to take care of some pretty young thing like you.” He shifted his chair closer, and his hand slipped a little farther inside her shirt. His whole cold palm rested on her bare shoulder. And she no longer wanted to break his fingers. His neck would do just nicely.

“Do you know any of the gang members?” she asked between clenched teeth.

“Nah, I’ve only been here a week. But I noticed one or two hanging around.”

She lowered her voice. “Any here now?”

“Don’t know. Since you walked in, all I’ve noticed is you. Young. Soft.” He wiggled his fingers.

“Why don’t you take a look around and see if any of them are here?”

He didn’t answer. His fingers shifted beneath the bra strap on her shoulder. She adjusted her lips to hide her lowering fangs, and from the corner of her eye she saw Chase watching, his face a mask of fury.

Why was he so upset? The creep wasn’t fingering his underwear. She had to clench her hands to keep from coldcocking the half-drunk jerk.

“Glance around,” she said again. “Please.” She wiggled her brow in what she hoped would appear to be a flirty gesture.

He shifted his gaze round the room, his finger moving back and forth under her bra strap, each stroke a little closer to her left breast. Each stroke bringing her closer to going apeshit on his ass.

“Nope, none are here now.” Ponytail’s eyes found hers again. “How about you and I go take a walk?”

“How about you telling me what you heard about the fresh turn?” It took effort to keep her voice soft. “Did he have short dark hair?”

“How about we talk after we walk?”

A growl, deep and sinister, sounded across the table. “How about you get your dirty hands off her?” Chase leaned into the table, his fangs fully extended, his eyes now such a bright lime green, you needed sunglasses to look at him.

The jerk glared back. For one second, he reacted to the brightness of Chase’s eyes; then he seemed to toss the worry aside. Della wasn’t so sure that was a good idea.

“Now, buddy,” Ponytail said. “I don’t hear Sweetie complaining.”

The name was the straw that broke the camel’s back. And would probably wind up being the straw that broke this freak’s wrist. “I told you, my name’s not Sweetie!” She yanked the guy’s arm from around her and twisted it almost to the point of breaking it.

He growled, almost reached for her with his other hand, but she gave the limb another tight twist, letting him know one move and his arm would be dangling at an odd angle. And she’d make certain it wasn’t at a pretty angle. Sure, vamps healed quickly, but she’d heard a broken bone still hurt like hell.

The scoundrel glared at her.

She glared right back, then cut her gaze around the room. All the bar patrons watched with malicious intent. And she had a feeling it wasn’t aimed at Mr. Ponytail. She and Chase could probably take on four, but if they all teamed up, she might be testing the broken-bone theory herself. They had to get out of here. She glanced at Chase, and cut her eyes to the exit. Then she dropped her tight hold of the guy’s arm and shot toward the door, assuming Chase would follow, and follow fast.

She’d assumed wrong.

She stopped at the last table on the way out.

Chase, taking his time, stood from his chair, but never stepped away from the table. He glared down at Ponytail. Chase’s posture and hostile expression practically begged the jerk to try something. Was Chase nuts? Didn’t he feel the glares from the crowd?

Did he not realize how outnumbered they were?

“Let’s go,” Della said.

She no more got the words out than she knew that had been a mistake.

“You always do what your whore tells you to?” the jerk, rubbing his arm, asked Chase.

“Did you just call her a whore?” Chase clenched his fist.

Every muscle in Della’s body tightened, prepared to fight. But before she took one step, Chase had the asshole against the wall. And not the wall beside the table where they’d sat, but the one on the other side of the bar. How? She hadn’t even seen him move. Holy crap! Just how fast was the panty perv?

He held the guy by the throat, pressing him against the faded paneling. The jerk’s feet dangled a foot off the floor. He should have been kicking, but from the color of the lowlife’s face, he wasn’t getting air, and probably knew one wrong move and his windpipe would be crushed.

“Tell her you’re sorry,” Chase demanded.

“You wreck this place, you pay for it!” the bartender, leaning against the bar, yelled out. “You wanna kill each other, do it outside. We’ll join you and take bets on who’ll make it.”

Chase, obviously ignoring the bartender, didn’t move. “I said, tell her you’re sorry!”

The jerk, his face now blood-red, couldn’t talk, but he moved his lips.

“I didn’t hear you,” Chase seethed. “Try that again.”

The man’s friend shot up from his chair. Della flew toward him, but before she got there, he’d slung a table at Chase.

Chase never looked back, but with his free hand he caught the table by one leg and held it up in midair like some kind of circus performer.

“Sit your ass back down,” Chase growled, and while he never looked at the table thrower, there was no doubt who he was talking to.

Della gazed around the room, watching for the next attack, prepared to intervene, if needed. Oddly enough, only the man’s friend who’d thrown the furniture seemed to be a threat. Everyone else just seemed entertained.

Chase set the table down. Almost gently, not breaking it. He turned his head, giving the room a quick glance. “I said sit down!”

The man’s friend remained standing, as if still debating his next move.

“I have a free hand,” Chase seethed, and waved his left arm. “Put your butt in that chair or you’ll be up against the wall with this guy and I’ll choke the life out of both of you! And if anyone else tries anything, I’ll do the same to them the second I’m finished crushing the windpipes of these lowlifes.”

The friend of Mr. Ponytail flopped back in his seat. “I never really liked his ass that much anyway.”

The bartender and the few other patrons laughed.

Chase didn’t seem to appreciate the humor. He stared back up at the red-faced, bulging-eyed vamp he held against the wall. “Now, you want to apologize? Or do I break your freaking neck?”

The guy croaked out a sound. Chase must have been happy, because he moved his hand from the guy’s neck, allowing him to fall to a heap on the floor.

The vamp coughed and rubbed his throat. Chase stood there for several long seconds, watching the guy try to draw air through his bruised throat, as if giving the creep a chance to get up and start more trouble. When he didn’t, Chase started for the door. He moved slow and with confidence. Not a bit worried anyone would attack.

He stopped beside her, and motioned for her to go first.

Unfortunately, Della didn’t follow orders. She waved him ahead.

He rolled his eyes, but then he walked out. As she moved through the door, she heard someone say, “I don’t know what kind of blood that kid was drinking, but I want some of that.”

Della stepped out into the cool October air. The night had grown darker. But the moon, almost full, cast silver light down on the woody terrain. She glanced around for threats, spotting only a couple leaning against the back of the building, their clothes half off.

Looking away, she studied Chase’s back moving in front of her. She didn’t want to be impressed. But, damn it! Color her impressed. She wanted some of whatever Chase was drinking, too.

Ten minutes later, she followed him in a fast run, or tried to follow him. He kept going faster and faster. His only comment to her when she’d stepped beside him outside the bar had been, “Keep up if you can.”

The one thing Della hated more than taking a challenge she thought she’d lose was walking away from one without trying. Her feet pounded the cold dirt. She kept her focus on Chase, who seemed to run without effort. His feet left the ground and he went into full flight. Della did the same, but the energy it took her to fly at that speed caused her gut to ache.

Midflight, Chase turned and looked at her. Checking on her. As if noting her condition, he shifted and started down, navigating between the trees to solid ground. He came to an easy stop, not even breathing hard, and looked up at her descending.

She hit the ground with a thud, but thankfully managed to stay on her feet. She tried to hide the fact that her lungs wouldn’t take air. Then, like the other night when they’d gone running, her stomach cramped. Swinging around, she lost the contents of her stomach in the brush.

When she rose up and wiped her mouth on the back of her hand, he stood beside her. “At least it wasn’t on my shoes this time.”

She glared up at him. She normally didn’t puke after her runs, but then again, she didn’t push herself like this either.

“Okay, you’re faster than me,” she snapped. “Don’t rub it in.” Admitting it cost her a bit of pride.

“I’m not trying to rub it in.” For a flicker of a second she saw what looked like concern in his eyes. “Running is good for you, come on. It will help.” He turned and took off again.

She didn’t.

He got about fifty feet, stopped, and shot back to stand in front of her. “Don’t wimp out on me.”

She ignored his insult. “Help with what?”

He hesitated before answering. “The grief.”

“I’m dealing with it.” And as much as she hated admitting it, it was true. Focusing on finding Lorraine’s killer held the grief at bay.

“Not very well.” He started walking, fast. She moved beside him. They didn’t speak for a few minutes.

“You ready to go?” he asked.

“To look for the Jugglers?” she asked, setting aside her angst with him.

“No,” he said. “To run. We’re done with the case for the night.”

“Done? How could—?”

“Someone will tell the gang we were looking for them and they’ll be here tomorrow when we come back.”

“What makes you think someone will tell them?”

“Because establishments like that are loyal to the local gangs. They depend on them for protection and business.”

“How do you know so much about gangs and establishments like that?” she asked, her mind going to her original beef with this guy. Where the hell did she know him from? Had he been a part of the gang that had been fighting when she first saw Chan?

“I’ve been on the streets a long time,” he said.

“How long? When were you turned?” She stopped to see if he’d answer.

He took a couple more steps, then faced her again. “I was fourteen.” He started jogging, but not at a breakneck speed.

She joined him. “How did you survive?” The muscles in her legs stung from her previous exertion.

“Race me back to Shadow Falls. If you win, I’ll answer the question.”

Temptation had her pulse racing, but she wasn’t stupid. “I’ve already admitted you’re faster.”

He stopped. “Race me, and I’ll tell you for trying.”

She didn’t like losing or consolation prizes. “Maybe I don’t want to know that badly.” She did, but her interest in him grated on her more than anything else.

“Sure you do,” he said confidently. “You wouldn’t have asked if you didn’t want to know.”

She frowned and tried to find a way to make this work for her. “I tell you what, I’ll race you if … win or lose, you tell me where I know you from. And this time, don’t lie to me.”

He blinked. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I think you do.” She glared up at him.

“Can’t you hear my heartbeat? I’m not lying.”

“You’re forgetting, I heard what you told our friend back there. You told me your parents were killed and you told him your mother lived here. So I know you lied to one of us, and your heart never skipped a beat.” At least she assumed it hadn’t skipped when he’d told this to the creep at the bar.

Chase appeared caught. “I lie when I have to.”

“Or when it’s convenient.” Maybe you’re a pathological liar.

“I wish it’d been that easy. Controlling my heartbeat is something I worked at for a long time.”

She remembered seeing his expression twitch when she thought he’d lied earlier. She moved in front of him and studied his face, but tilted her head to the side so he’d assume she was listening. “Does your mother live here?”

“I told you they died.” His eyes didn’t shift.

“Where have we met before?” She tossed the question out there and didn’t breathe, waiting.

“I don’t think we’ve ever crossed paths.” He didn’t blink, but his left brow twitched. Was that enough to call it a lie?

And if he was lying, why? What wasn’t he telling her?

He started walking again. She followed, trying to figure out her next move.

After a few minutes of silence, he spoke. “You should have never let him touch you.”

When she didn’t respond, he jumped in front of her and started walking backwards, making it hard to ignore him.

“He was answering my questions,” she said. “More than you’ve done.”

“I could have gotten those answers myself.”

She tilted her chin up. “I don’t think you were his type.”

Chase’s laugh caught her off guard. It sounded so deep and honest. She remembered how he’d handled himself in the bar. It irked her that she was still impressed. Impressed with a liar.

“You ready to run again?” he asked, as if thinking they’d found some kind of a truce. There was no truce. Not until she knew what he was up to. She recalled her conversation with Jenny. Who the hell was Chase secretly meeting with late at night at the Shadow Falls fence?

“Come on a short run,” he prodded.

“I’m done running.” What was it with this guy and racing? Was he training for the Olympics?

She darted around him, walking in the direction of Shadow Falls.

“Come on. It’s good for you,” he said, falling beside her again.

“The truth is good for me.” She felt him, too close. As if they were old friends.

They walked in silence. The night seemed extra quiet. Only the sound of their footfalls on the soft earth and dead leaves filled the night.

They were almost to the gate when he spoke. “My father was a doctor. He owned a small plane. We were all in it. It went down.”

She looked at him. Nothing about his expression said he lied. Quite the opposite. Grief touched his eyes.

“I was the only one to survive. But I was hurt pretty badly. The guy who found me was vampire. I was a carrier of the virus and when he helped me, I turned.”

“So he took you in?”

“Yeah.”

“Was he rogue?” She couldn’t help but try to see his angle for being at Shadow Falls. Was he helping some rogue organization or gang who wanted to shut down the school because of its affiliation with the FRU?

This wouldn’t be the first time.

“Depends on what you call rogue. He’s a decent guy but not registered.”

Of all the things he could have said, this was the one she could relate to the most. Wasn’t this the very reason she’d kept information about Chan from Burnett? Why she wasn’t mentioning her uncle or aunt?

“So why come to Shadow Falls?” she asked.

“I heard about it. Thought it’d be interesting.” His pupil in his left eye dilated slightly.

So he was here for a reason, but what? She almost called him on the lie, but now that she had a better handle on detecting his untruths, maybe it was wise to see what she could learn. Let the guy lie himself into a corner he couldn’t get out of.

Looking up, she saw the Shadow Falls fence ahead. She pulled out her phone to dial Burnett. She had missed two calls. But no voice messages.

She checked the numbers. One was unfamiliar for a second, but then she recognized it. Kevin, Chan’s friend. The grief that had been pocketed away slipped out.

What did Kevin want with her? Paybacks can be hell. She did owe him a favor.

The second number flashed across the screen and she felt her heartstrings being yanked in another direction. Steve.

She tucked all those emotions away to deal with later and started to dial Burnett. But her phone rang first. Burnett’s number lit up her cell screen.

“We’re back. At the fence on the north side,” she said in lieu of hello.

“Is everything okay?” The camp leader’s tone came off short. Tense.

“Fine.”

“Come to the office. Now,” he insisted.

Oh, hell, Della thought. Sounded like some more shit had hit the fan.

“We’ll be right there.”

“No,” Burnett clipped out. “Alone. I just want to see you right now. I’ll contact Chase when I need him.” The camp leader hung up.

Obviously listening, Chase’s brow instantly creased with worry, and she didn’t know who was in trouble. Her or the panty perv.