"What is she up to at the moment?"
"She's headed off to the morgue to get a look at Smith's remains. She's still adamant that Helen should not have died."
Doyle picked up one end of the sofa, moving it around until it was positioned in such a way that he had a clear view of the door, the window, and Kirby. "Has she tried reading the scale again?"
"Not yet."
He sat down and propped his bare feet on the small coffee table. 'That means Rachel Grant could still be the next victim. You any closer to tracking her down?"
"I've got three possible addresses. And before you ask, no, I haven't checked them out yet. I might be able to run like the wind, but I can still only do one thing at a time, and Camille wants me to check the government center first."
'Then give me the addresses. I'll check them out once Kirby gets some rest."
'That wise?" Russell's voice held a hint of doubt. "I mean, you might lead the killer directly to Rachel Grant. Maybe that's exactly what he wants."
"I doubt it. The killer seems to have had no trouble finding these women so far. I don't think he's sitting back waiting for us to lead him to Rachel Grant."
"Maybe, but you might just drag Kirby into the middle of an attack."
"A risk we'll have to take. Besides, whoever is behind these attacks on her seems to have no trouble finding her. About ten minutes after the manarei died, a vamp was on her tail."
"Which means the killer has to be fairly close."
"Or the vamp was a backup. He was a pretty scrawny example. Hadn't been out of the fledgling bloodlust stage that long, by the look of him."
"Not much of a problem, then."
"He wasn't." Doyle frowned and remembered the look in Kirby's bright gaze when she'd finally turned to look at him. She'd thought him a killer—a monster. And in many respects, maybe he was. He'd certainly killed the vamp without a second thought. But if he hadn't, it might have been Kirby he'd left lifeless on the pavement.
"Where have you holed up?" Russell asked.
"A motel on Bulla Road. Hopefully, we'll be left alone for a while."
"I wouldn't bank on that, bro."
Doyle smiled grimly. "I'm not." He dug a pen out of his pocket. "You got those addresses?"
Russell read them out. "Camille said to expect a call from her around dawn."
Doyle finished writing the last address on the back of the breakfast menu card, then tucked it and the pen back into his coat pocket. "I'll be awake." Russell snorted softly. "So will I. No one warned me when I took this job that sleep deprivation was one of the requirements."
"Plenty of time to sleep when you're dead, you know."
"I am dead."
"I mean totally dead, not vampire dead." Doyle grinned. "Be careful when you're breaking into the building. Whoever's behind this might be expecting such a move."
"Yeah, but will they be expecting a vamp to be doing the breaking and entering? It gives me a slight advantage."
But not against magic, and Russ knew that. 'Talk to you later." He hung up and settled back against the sofa. The wind rattled the window frames and howled under the door. The rain pelted down against the roof, so loud it sounded like stones hitting, not water. It was certainly one hell of a storm. He was glad they weren't still in it.
He glanced across at Kirby. Her hair flowed over the pillow like wet brown silk, and in sleep her face was serene. The impish quality that was so evident when she was awake had slipped away, leaving only beauty.
He'd lied to her earlier. She was very much the sort of woman he was attracted to. Not that anything was likely to happen between them. Gaining her trust enough so that she'd lower her prickly barriers would probably take longer than he had here in Australia.
Though he couldn't help wishing he did have the time. He had a feeling the effort would be worth it—not so much physically as emotionally. He frowned at the thought and crossed his arms, looking away. Any sort of relationship was nothing short of impossible right now. Damn it, he loved his job, and he wouldn't quit. But by the same token, his work was the reason he was also alone. Experience had taught him that few women could cope with the fact that he was absent for weeks, sometimes months, at a time.
And why was he even thinking such things when he barely knew her? While he knew from her thoughts that the attraction was definitely mutual, they'd also told him that she wouldn't act on that attraction. Not with someone she considered little more than a killer.