Deathtrap (Crossbreed #3)(54)
I finished the last bite of grilled cheese and licked my fingers. “Shepherd’s a liability.”
“She’s right,” Christian said. “I’d be willing to wager that Shepherd’s sharpening all the knives in his drawers. Better we find this Mage before he does.”
“What does it matter who kills him?” Claude asked with a mouthful of fries.
“The higher authority assigned us the case, you dolt,” Christian reminded him. “They’re invested, and they’re not going to pay unless we provide enough evidence and facts to support a murder. Unless they say they want him dead or alive, Viktor has to follow protocol.”
I pushed my plate forward. “What protocol?”
“The one that forbids us from dismembering suspects. If our lives are at stake or all hell breaks loose during a raid, they’re more likely to turn a blind eye. But if Shepherd picks him up, drives him out to a cornfield, and feeds him to the crows, that might not work in our favor. Especially if the Mage turns out to be someone important or is proven innocent.”
I played with the straw in my glass. “Shepherd’s going to murder him. I know all about that kind of hate.”
Claude finally sat back and heaved a sigh.
I chuckled softly. “You’re going to ruin your figure with that appetite.”
He patted his stomach. “Someone should have told me about this place before now. I haven’t had a milkshake that delicious in decades.”
I studied him for a moment. “Exactly how old are you?”
He winked. “Centuries.”
Claude was a good five or six inches taller than Christian, towering over most men like a giant. I’d seen Chitahs over seven feet before. They usually stood out when mingling with people of normal height, which was pretty much anyone outside of their Breed. One brunette had walked to the bathroom twice just to get his attention, and Claude gave it to her. He was suave and flirty without being obvious or egotistical. The magic was in his smile and the way he’d lean back and use his body language to convey interest.
Claude Valentine was so handsome that he didn’t need to flirt. He could put french fries up his nose and still attract women with his sexy hair and kissable lips. He possessed the perfect male form with a V-shaped torso and strong collarbones. Not muscular like Shepherd, but I’d seen him climb the rope in our training room with Gem on his back.
Personality-wise, Claude was too sweet for my taste. I’m not sure what that said about me, but I didn’t feel chemistry when I looked at him—not the way other women did.
I slid my leather jacket over my lap and searched the pocket.
“Put your money away. I’ll take care of this,” Christian offered, setting his wallet on the table.
I pulled my hood over my head and tugged on the drawstrings. “Do you think they’ll really bring the baby?”
Christian studied the label on the ketchup bottle. “Assuming we win the auction, there’s a chance.”
“Depends on how much money he wants,” Claude pointed out. “Sometimes they set up a few fake transactions to collect money and then sell the baby later. That way they get more.”
“That’s risky,” I said. “Someone could show up and kill him.”
Christian set the bottle down. “Something tells me the Vampire back at his apartment was his lackey and delivered the goods. With him out of the picture, I’d be surprised if the Mage has a second right-hand man he would trust with such a task.”
I put on my fingerless gloves before sliding my arms through my jacket and zipping it up. “If he’s got the baby, where do you think it is?”
Christian scratched his cheek. “If he’s a professional, then he’s smart enough to keep incriminating evidence as far away as he can manage. He didn’t set up the bomb as a weapon; he wanted to destroy anything in that apartment that linked him to a crime.”
“Can I get you another milkshake before I end my shift?” Betty asked, offering Claude a warm smile. She’d liked him right from the start and even gave me a playful wink. I wondered what she thought of my parading all these men around her since joining Keystone.
“Three is my limit,” Claude replied.
“Next time try the banana shake.”
He tilted his head to the side and looked at her name tag. “Only if you make it, Betty.”
She laughed. “You betcha. Are you ready for the bill?”
I nodded, and she collected our plates.
“Nice lady,” Claude said, watching her return to the kitchen. “Humans are so eager to make people happy. You don’t see many older females waitressing where we live.”
“I don’t see many older women period,” I said.
Claude grinned. “You don’t come in the salon enough. Older Chitahs have no interest in hanging out in bars or dance clubs.”
Christian tugged on his beard. “Speaking of bars, I’d like to go back to Nine and find out who Raven’s little birdy is.”
“Birdy?” Claude’s eyebrows drew together.
“Aye. The one who told her where our Mage lives. If he knows that much, he might know more.”
“He was in your salon the night the woman was murdered,” I added. “Remember? Bleached hair, had the foil things in it.”