Predatory (Immortal Guardians #3.5)(101)

I’m only vampire; so sue me.

I led Felipe into the apartment, Pike behind us. Felipe took a small sip from the water bottle and must have rehydrated. He immediately started crying again, full, body-wracking sobs while he wrung his hands and mumbled, his accent becoming thicker and more pronounced with each word. I might be without a soul but I wasn’t without a heart and mine ached for him. I filled a glass of water and pushed it into Felipe’s hands, then slung my arm over his shoulder and led him to the couch. He shivered under my touch.

“You’re freezing.”

“Circulation problem,” I said automatically.

Pike took a seat on the couch and scooted over, giving Felipe room to sit. I caught Pike’s hot chocolate gaze for a second and I was immediately warmed by the sweet concern in his eyes, and taken by the way his lips still looked full and tasty even when the corners turned down in a slight frown. He nodded to Felipe who crushed himself into the couch and heaved an enormous, hiccupping breath.

Through the open apartment door I could see the coroner and his assistant pushing through the crowd, could hear the squeaking wheels of the gurney as they laid Reginald out and wheeled him away. Thankfully, the din of chatter, police radios, and general city noises must have drowned out the dead sounds for Felipe because he sucked down his bottle of water and blinked repeatedly, the tears actually seeming to dry.

Officer Hopkins ambled down the hall and knocked on Emerson’s door. I watched as Nicolette pulled it open, her face a yellow-hued shade of pale, her eyes small and circled by exhausted purple bags. They darted past Hopkins and took in the scene in the hall, skidded over the coroner as he pushed Reginald away. There was a slight terror in her eyes and I could see the pale edges of her lips pulled down as she murmured to Officer Hopkins. When Nicolette disappeared and Emerson took her spot, I took a step forward, my head cocked.

“Your relationship to Mr. Fairfield, miss?”

Emerson blinked quickly and even from across the hall—and by way of my super-vamp sense—I could hear her heartbeat speed up, could hear the sharpness of the shallow breath she sucked in. I crossed my arms in front of my chest, watching, as Emerson licked her lips.

“He was a designer like myself.”

“And you all three live here in this complex? Is it, like, some sort of shared housing or artist co-op or something?”

I watched Emerson’s head swing from side to side, her straw hair brushing her shoulders. “We’re the three finalists in a design competition.” She bit her bottom lip, her eyes flashing and catching mine. “Well, we were.”

“So you’re competitors?” Hopkins tapped the end of his pen against Emerson’s doorframe, the rhythmic tap like a heartbeat. “Was there a lot of stress at this competition? Was Mr. Fairfield not doing well?”

Emerson straightened up, her hands going to the doorframe and gripping. I caught the smallest scent of sweat on the air.

Emerson was nervous.

“The competition hadn’t really started yet. I don’t see why Reginald would have been—would have thought he wasn’t doing well. Maybe Felipe knows more.” Emerson’s eyes crested over Hopkins’s head and she looked at me. “Or maybe Nina knows something.” She glanced at her non-ironic Swatch watch and shifted her weight. “Are we through now? I’ve got to work on my designs.”

Emerson left Hopkins standing in the doorway. He turned on his heel and we were eye to eye—me, standing in my apartment, door flung wide open, spying, and him, narrow-eyed, chewing on the end of his pen. He beckoned for me to come into the hallway.

“Can I help you?”

“Miss LaShay,” he said, shifting his weight in what I was guessing he thought was some sort of imposing manner. “Is there a reason you didn’t mention that you and Mr. Fairfield were direct competitors in this competition?”

I snaked my arms in front of my chest and mirrored Officer Hopkins’s narrow-eyed glare. “I didn’t think it was necessary information.”

“Might have given someone the motive to harm Fairfield, don’t you think?”

“I would think, had he not hung himself.”

Hopkins shot me a slow, appraising gaze. “Just make sure you don’t leave the county, all right? I might have some additional questions for you.”

Something about the way Hopkins kept his watery eyes fixed on me gave me a slight chill. I had every intention of escorting him right out of my apartment until he checked his smartphone, scanned the room, and asked, “Felipe DeLaCruz?”

Felipe turned and raised a small hand. “I am Felipe.”

Hopkins paused then, his flat-balloon face breaking into what passed as a smile. “Pike! Didn’t expect to see you here.”

Hopkins and Pike did that awkward, manly handshake-to-semi-hug kind of thing and I felt my mouth drop open. I made a beeline for them.

“You two know each other?” I hissed.

“Pike does some photography work for us on occasion.” Hopkins raised his eyebrows toward Pike. “Is that why you’re here now?”

“Actually, I was hired by the magazine to shoot the designers.”

Hopkins’s eyes showed a flash of interest. “So you knew the dec—”

I shot a glance over my shoulder and nudged Hopkins and Pike out of the living room, out of Felipe’s direct line of sight.