"Big Mike, you stay with Jose, like we talked about. I'm not going to lose him ... or you, Mike. So stay sharp. Promise." She waited until Mike nodded and he pounded her fist. "Rider. You do the morgue detail with me later."
She laughed when Rider started shaking his head.
"I know, I know, Rider. Not your favorite place to be - but we need to keep a tail on Dejesus. That's why we took the four-by-four and the Hummer. We'll take the Jeep, and leave the Hum for Mike. Cool?"
"Aw'right. Shit."
Chapter Eight
Damali smiled. "Rider, hang here and try to chill. I'll come back and get you, and then we'll do the Coroner's Office together - but you keep tabs on the hospital morgue, see if they moved Dejesus downtown yet for an autopsy. Turn on the monitor and your transmitter if you leave here for any reason, so J.L. and the team can stay with you. We don't want to lose you either, Jake Rider. You're a perpetual pain in the ass, but we still love you."
"Now I have to be Lojacked like a car? Aw, man, gimme a break." Rider let out a resigned sigh and ran his fingers through his hair.
"And where are you going, HI' sis?"
Mike's question made Rider stop complaining, as both guardians looked at her hard with concern.
"You know where I'm going," she said.
"Be back at Rider's side, or mine, before dark," Mike said, his tone telling her that he'd brook no argument. "We're not trying to lose you, either."
* * *
Damali shrugged off the security frisk as the bodyguard completed it. Bastard didn't need to feel her up, just check for a weapon. She didn't have a gun, so what the hell?
"You can follow me," he told her, smiling too much for her liking.
She let the irritation pass and steadied her line of vision to focus on Carlos's office door, looking beyond the guard's too-tight black T-shirt, which strained against the muscular bulk that made up his stocky frame. When she entered the room and saw Carlos, his silent appraisal both grated her and worked on a section of her emotions that she'd turned off. She didn't even want to name the conflicting sensations in her head right now. This was business.
He rose briefly, sitting after she had. "Long time no see," he said in a quiet voice. "It's cool," he told the bodyguard who had ushered Damali in. "Practically family."
Damali watched the man leave them with a nod, and returned her attention to Carlos. He looked healthy. Color was good. It was still daytime. All good signs. She glimpsed the reflective surfaces in the room. He gave off an image. But the question was, could he have become one of the vampire helpers - human traitors that sold off his friends and family for power? He'd risen awfully fast.
She studied the lines of tension in his face; he still wore his silver cross. And, Lord help her, the man was still fine ... had the body of life, showing every rock-solid definition in it through his turquoise silk shirt... the color looked good on his bronzed skin. Leather pants. She would try her best not to remember those black leather pants.
"You look good, too," Carlos said after a moment of surveying her again with a knowing smile. "Life seems to be treating you well."
"This isn't a social call, Carlos." She kept her voice even like her gaze. Arrogant bastard. He got on her nerves.
"I knew it wouldn't be," he replied, leaning forward on his desk, but still seeming relaxed enough to be amused. "Your people called and wanted to book a gig here. I figured that with Blood Music blowing up large, and doing this worldwide simultaneous concert, maybe you'd finally changed your mind about never performing in the hottest club network in L.A.?"
"Yeah. Saw the news about the international concert in the papers, and every entertainment show has been blasting it." She stared at him as his smile broadened.
"I told your manager that it was cool for you to perform here." Carlos took his time choosing his words, his gaze holding Damali's. "What I didn't tell her was that, since the sons-of-bitches have snubbed my clubs repeatedly, I would love to see somebody else pull some of their profit - maybe move on their territory one day. Then I heard from you - the only one who could do it. Welcome."
Damali shook her head. "That's not why I'm here, either." She watched him carefully ease back and assess her. "I'm here because of what happened to your boys."
Something in his expression shifted. A deep sadness registered in the depths of his eyes - pain, remorse, guilt - it flickered past her so fast that she almost didn't see it. Then he lowered his gaze, smoothed the front of his silk shirt, and looked up. Pure, chilling fury reflected back at her now from his handsome face. Any sign of vulnerability was gone.
"I appreciate that you came to pay your respects, and wanted to book an event here as a peace offering between you and me. Thank you. You've always been cool people, D. Always had my back, even though we've had our philosophical differences."
She watched as he stood and walked to his bar. She wouldn't correct him, however. If he thought she was here as a mourner, so be it. If he thought the gig was her way of paying homage to his crew - so be it. And yet, she wrestled with that knowledge.
"Do you want a drink? I need one to talk about this shit."
"No. I'm good."
"Yes ... you always were," he murmured, pouring a drink for himself, studying the glass with a chuckle, and then returning to his chair behind his desk. "Still holistic, my barrios church girl. Amazing."