With two handguns strapped to his back that she did see—one of them she was pretty sure wasn’t even legal—how many other weapons did he have on him that she didn’t see? The man was a walking arsenal. “I’ll go to his house and check him out. I should be able to detect from outside if he’s got the sweetblood or not.”
“Well, that’s just crazy.” She wiped the heel of her hand across her swollen eyes. “What if he is Sangre Dulce? What then? Are you going to knock on the door and make him come with you when you’ve never even met? That’s so not going to fly.”
And like hell was she going to sit back in the loft and wait again. She was tired of all the waiting, of letting things happen around her—she’d been doing it all her life, waiting for the inevitable. Waiting for a hammer to fall.
“I don’t care if you can massage his memory. I don’t want that done to my brother. I need to be there, whether you like it or not.”
Dom pulled his pant leg down over his boot holster, which held another knife, and when he straightened, he leveled her with a hard stare.
There was no way she was letting him leave without her. She grabbed his arms and wrapped them around her, pinning his wrists against the small of her back.
“What do you think you’re doing?” he asked.
“It’s not as if I’m going out alone. You’ll be there. I’m safe with you.”
His nostrils flared slightly, that tiny muscle in his jaw flexing. “Get your things,” he said finally. “We’re late.”
The restaurant parking lot was half full when Mackenzie and Dom arrived an hour later. Through the large picture windows, the sun was still setting over Vashon Island, but she felt so numb she hardly noticed.
“How are you holding up?” Dom asked, his arm cast protectively around her shoulders as they made their way to an empty table in the bar.
“Barely.” Martin’s terrified voice kept replaying over and over in her mind. “But I can’t possibly wait to find out about Corey.”
“You look as though you’ve been crying. What will you say to him?”
She rolled her eyes. “Trust me. He won’t notice. Besides, it’s dark enough in here that even if he wasn’t perpetually stoned, he still wouldn’t notice.”
“He’s that much of a pothead?”
“Family curses aside, you’d be a stoner, too, if you lived with someone like Vanessa. There he is now.” She waved him over. Please don’t let him be like me, she prayed silently. Perched on the edge of her chair, hardly daring to breathe, she chewed on the inside of her lip as her brother zigzagged through the tables.
In true skater-boy fashion, his longish sandy-blond hair curled into his eyes and resembled a wild mop on the top of his head. He wore a gray T-shirt that was actually vintage—Mackenzie recognized it from his high school years and knew it probably still had that small hole under one of the arms—emo-tight jeans that hung from his lanky hips, and turquoise skater shoes that were unlaced. She managed to smile. He’d been dressed exactly the same the last time she’d seen him, down to the black shark’s tooth and small macramй cross worn on leather cords around his neck.
She stood to hug him and noticed a raspberry scrape alongside his face, as well as an acrid smell like burning leaves on his clothes. He’d probably smoked out in the parking lot. Either that or he hadn’t washed this shirt since the last time he’d gotten high.
“Kenzie!” Corey gave her a brotherly hug, almost yanking her off her feet, and when he clapped her on the back, her molars rattled. He held a hand out to Dom across the table. “Hey, I’m Corey.”
Mackenzie kept her eyes on Dom as she introduced them. When Dom gave her an almost imperceptible shake of his head, a huge weight lifted from her shoulders. He’s safe, thank God. “I’m sorry Vanessa couldn’t come. I hope that didn’t cause any trouble between you guys.”
“Nah, I love last-minute stuff. Vanessa—not so much.”
They ordered a round of drinks and appetizers, and as they waited for their food, Corey talked about school, Dom told him the abbreviated version of what he did for a living, and Mackenzie filled him in on her website, trying to act excited. She decided not to tell Corey about Martin—at least not right now, not while the pain of losing him was so