his chair away from the table and rose. “I believe you said we were done. I have work to do.”
Ari nodded with resignation. “Sure. Thanks for your time.”
Victor left. Andreas and Ari remained seated. She wasn’t sure what kept her from standing up and heading out the door. Maybe nothing. Maybe catching her breath. She shifted uncomfortably, drained the coffee cup and set it down.
Andreas was twisting his wineglass in his fingers. “You have much to learn, young witch. Not everyone is transparent, as you are. Do not bother to protest,” he added, as she parted her lips. “Whatever pops into your head is written across your face. And regardless of what you believe, vampires are not devoid of feelings.” His tone remained civil, but she sensed his disapproval. Or was it disappointment? “Victor saw your contempt for him, and it did you no credit.”
A rush of anger flared and robbed Ari of words. This arrogant vampire had the audacity to criticize her for judging Victor, while he sat there smugly and did his own judging. At least she hadn’t been rude enough to tell Victor what she thought. And here she’d decided Andreas had a social side. She’d certainly been wrong about that. He had no right to speak to her this way, even though she had an awful feeling he might be justified. That realization was more than she wanted to deal with. She rose abruptly, mindful of the chair, and scowled down at him.
“Good night, Mr. De Luca. I think we can agree it is past time I left.”
“Allow me to accompany you to the door,” he offered, once again the impeccable club owner. He gracefully unfolded his long frame.
“Don’t bother. I can find the way.” Ari turned toward the door.
“As you like.”
She paused and looked over her shoulder. “Do you always talk like that?”
He tilted his head, and a reluctant smile tugged at his lips. “You mean, as if I have lived in another country, another century?”
“Yeah, point taken.”
* * *
Ari sighed with relief when she stepped outside, away from Andreas’s unsettling presence and before she stuck her foot in her mouth again. She punched in Ryan’s number. When he answered on the first ring, she grinned. He must have stayed awake and waited for her call. She liked that in a partner. His familiar voice began to unknot the tension in her stomach.
By the time she shared the information from the recent interview, Ari began to think things hadn’t gone too badly after all. She’d gotten the interview. She’d learned Angela was a groupie, that someone had given her a black eye, and that their victim had been hanging out with a werewolf. It was too bad that Victor had a solid alibi, but all in all, not a bad night’s work. She was still in one piece, wasn’t she? She had entered the vampires’ lair and escaped with only her ego bruised.
Chapter Eight
The Wesley Simpson who appeared at the police station the following morning wasn’t the same cocky guy who’d disrupted Ari’s class. Oh, it was the same face all right, but now his eyes darted around the room and nervous sweat streaked his temples. As Ari pictured Angela’s troubled face during his outburst at the shop, his current state of fear gave her secret satisfaction. Simpson ducked his head when he saw Ari. Too bad.
Ryan didn’t give the suspect a chance to relax but started the interview immediately. The cop whipped through the standard questions and spent the next twenty minutes grilling the subdued boyfriend about his contact with Angela. Simpson stuttered and stammered his way through the two-year relationship.
They’d dated regularly for the first year, then Angela’s behavior changed. She began to hang out with Otherworlders and disappeared for days. Unlike Victor, Simpson had demanded an explanation. She’d refused to give one and often covered her activities with lies. He began following her, and at least twice when she said she was spending the evening at home, he’d seen her cruising the vampire clubs.
“Did you confront her about that?” Ryan asked.
Simpson hesitated. “Not until I heard she was sleeping with one of the fang guys. I told her I was leaving. She bawled like a baby, like I was the one who’d done something wrong. She promised she’d end it. And I guess I wanted to believe her, so I stuck around. But lately, she didn’t seem to care what I thought.” Simpson squirmed in his chair. “So, yeah, we fought a