I hoped the information I’d gleaned from Martin’s German Shepherd would redeem me. I dared to take a quick unassuming peek in his direction. He was frowning.
The single person smiling was … I glanced down at my notebook —James McQuillen — the man who’d kept me from the face plant, and who owned Boss the Doberman, the dog I hadn’t had time to explore yet.
I know what you are. He sent the message telepathically, lifting his water glass in a mock toast.
***
Chapter 31
The meeting’s remaining minutes passed without incident. There were a few heated words in response to Logan’s ideas for expansion into more family-friendly markets. The person most opposed to anything he suggested was the murderer, Martin. He could see no financial benefit to changing their already successful business model.
While they were debating the details of Logan’s business plan, I made one unsuccessful attempt to infiltrate the mind of Boss, but the Doberman’s thoughts were guarded by a smoky haze. I could make out movements beyond the fog-like barrier, but was unable to latch onto anything of substance. His mysterious owner rested a hand on his pet’s head. I couldn’t help wondering if his hand somehow shielded the dog’s mind from my probing.
The discussion regarding Logan’s new ideas had changed the meeting’s entire atmosphere. No one seemed the least bit interested in me or my note taking. I sipped coffee and counted the minutes until could tell Zane and Logan about Martin and Mr. McQuillen.
I didn’t have to wait long before James McQuillen made the final announcement. “Thank you all for attending. Logan Sanders, our dear friend and business associate, has given us a great deal to consider. I also want to say it’s been a pleasure to welcome Cassandra to our group.” He nodded my direction. “Everyone is excused except for the elders.”
“Back in fifteen,” Logan stated.
I practically leapt from my seat, rushing into the hallway. Where was the little girls’ room when you needed one?
“Excuse me, Ms. Carpenter?” the other woman, Maureen Harper, tapped my shoulder. “Are you looking for the ladies room?”
Relieved to see her smile, I sighed. “Was it that obvious?”
“Let’s just say, I know how it feels to be in a room of chauvinistic men for more than two hours. Follow me.”
We exited our stalls in unison and faced the long mirror. I scrubbed my hands, wishing I could wipe away the filth of my lies. Keeping secrets from Zane was eating me from the inside out. I’d made a huge scene in Vegas over his supposed secrets, yet here I was carting around several biggies of my own. The biggest being that I’d made out with a very sexy and powerful vampire, not once, but twice. And I’d liked it.
I’d also somehow managed to pull one of his closest friends into my scheming. If I felt this bad, Alcuin had to be feeling worse. Or did he? I wasn’t convinced that vampires handled their emotions the same way as humans.
“Are you okay?” Maureen asked, now rubbing her palms together under the dryer.
I was still washing.
Realizing how silly I must look, I rinsed and shut off the water. “I’m just nervous. I made an utter fool of myself.”
Maureen leaned toward the mirror, and expertly applied a burgundy shade of lipstick. “I’ve been there. Shake it off. The next meeting is the most important.”
“What’s different?” I hated to appear so naïve.
“For one, it’s just the elders. There will be several additions to the group, and we’ll be discussing some pretty serious issues. I’m guessing Logan’s at least briefed you on the Plum Beach murders.”
Not sure what to say, I nodded, and made a point of finding my own lipstick.
“I’m certain, if you’re working in this capacity with him, you know his real identity?” She arched one sculpted brow, anticipating my reply.
Two young women breezed in, interrupting us. I tried not to look too relieved.
Maureen glanced at her Rolex. “We better get going.”
Back at the table, I drew another map and scribbled the names of those still in attendance. James McQuillen, Maureen Harper, Logan and Zane, Roger Ryker, and two newcomers — Jonas Kallappa and Theo Secor. The fact that Martin the Murderer was absent renewed my hope that I could end the meeting on a positive note.
“Why’d Martin leave?” Theo Secor asked gruffly.
“Because I asked him to,” said McQuillen. “We’ve all got places to be. Let’s get down to our most recent problem. Zane, updates from Plum Beach?” McQuillen crossed his