Darkness Everlasting (Guardians of Eternity #3)(50)

The mere fact that she had managed to flag down a taxi and travel this far was nothing short of amazing.

Wrapping her arms about her waist to ward off the sharp chill, Darcy stomped her feet and peered into the thick darkness.

After what seemed an eternity she heard the unmistakable sound of Gina's piece of junk car and she hurried to the side door where she had told her friend to meet her.

Within moments CIA was hurrying toward the door, excitement crackling about her with a near tangible force.

"Darcy? Holy guacamole, it's you."

Darcy gave a nervous glance around the empty lot before pulling CIA into the warehouse. "Of course it's me. Who did you think it would be?"

CIA shrugged. "I thought you were dead."

Darcy blinked in astonishment. "Why on earth did you think I was dead?"

The slender woman dropped the heavy bag she was carrying onto the floor.

"Well, duh. You disappeared from work without a trace, you didn't answer your cell, you weren't at your apartment, and the pizza joint you deliver for said you hadn't shown up for any of your shifts. What was I supposed to think?"

"Oh." Darcy had never actually considered the thought that anyone would think she had died. Cripes. What about her jobs? Her apartment? If she found herself on the streets again she really was going to stake that damn vampire. "Did you call the police?"

CIA appeared startled by the question. "No."

"Even though you thought I was dead?"

"Dead is dead." CIA shrugged. "It's not as though the police can bring you back or anything."

"I suppose you have a point," Darcy ruefully acknowledged. She couldn't really blame her friend. CIA did many things to make ends meet, not all of them legal. "Did you manage to get the money for me?"

"Yeah, it was hidden in your locker just like you said." CIA kneeled by the leather bag and opened the zipper. "You know, I would never have thought to hide it in a tampon box."

Darcy chuckled as CIA handed her the fifty-dollar bill she always kept hidden in one spot or another.

"Even the most determined thief seems allergic to feminine hygiene products." She slipped the money into her pocket. "What about the coat?"

"I brought it, although I can't imagine you wearing the nasty thing." CIA pulled out the frayed army jacket that belonged to one of the bouncers. She grimaced as she handed it to Darcy. "It smells just like Bart. Ugh."

"It's definitely a distinctive aroma," Darcy agreed as she reluctantly forced herself to pull on the heavy coat. It reeked of cigarette smoke, beer, and things she didn't want to think about. A perfect means to disguise her own scent. And smelly or not, it was warm.

"I also brought you some food." CIA dug through the bag to reveal a box of granola bars.

"Thanks."

"Oh ... I almost forgot. You remember that gorgeous mobster who came in the night you disappeared?"

Darcy grimaced. Did she remember? It was etched into her brain with full Technicolor detail.

"He's pretty tough to forget."

"No doubt." CIA heaved a deep sigh. "What a yummy bit of eye candy."

"What about him?"

"He came back a night or two ago and left this for you," CIA said as she straightened and pressed the small object into her hand.

"He left a cell phone?"

"Yeah, he said that if you came back that you might want to give him a call on it." A hint of envy entered Gina's gaze. "Pretty romantic, if you ask me."

Darcy's stomach clenched. Despite the fact that she had left Styx with every intention of seeking out the werewolf, she hadn't forgotten Salvatore's strange, possessive manner or the numerous pictures that Levet had discovered in his lair.

What sort of man went around snapping photographs of strange women?

Weirdos, that's who.

"Only if you're interested in the psychotic stalker sort of guy," she muttered.

"Hey, if you don't want him I'll gladly take him off your hands," CIA groused.

"Trust me, CIA, you don't want any part of this man."

"Of course not." The woman rolled her eyes. "What would I do with a drop-dead gorgeous hunk of a man who, for a miracle, isn't g*y?"

Damn. The last thing Darcy wanted was for her one friend to become entangled with the ruthless demons who now invaded her life. Unfortunately, there was no way to truly warn her of the dangers. Not without CIA assuming that she was completely nuts.

"Would you believe he's a wolf in an Armani suit?" she hedged.

CIA frowned. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Just stay away from him. He's . . . dangerous."

"Oh my God." CIA raised a hand to her mouth. "He's a drug lord, isn't he?"

Well, it was as good a lie as any, Darcy decided. "Something like that."

Typical." CIA made a disgusted noise. "It's just like my grandmother always says."

"What does she say?"

"If something seems too good to be true . . ."

Darcy gave a humorless laugh. "You're preaching to the choir, sister," she muttered, her thoughts painfully turning to Styx and his ruthless manipulation of her memories. Her fingers curled tightly around the phone in her hand. "I have to go."