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"And you?" he asked.
"We've confirmed McKetrick didn't kill Katya or Zoey. He's alibied at a fund-raiser with Mayor Kowalcyzk."
"That doesn't leave us with much."
"It doesn't leave us with a suspect at all, except that we know the girls were killed by a Navarre vampire. Jeff's checking into the House's biometric system, and Luc is going to check in with Will and see if he's noticed any disturbed Navarre vampires recently."
"Hmm." He picked at an invisible thread on the knee of his trousers, then looked up at me. "Have you told Jonah about these latest developments?"
"Yes."
"Of course you have. Because you two are close." There was a dangerous edge of anger in his voice; it might have been motivated by fear or jealousy, but the only thing that mattered was that it was directed at me.
I had little doubt this change of attitude could be laid at the feet of the blond vampire I'd sent scurrying from the room. She was planting seeds of doubt about our relationship, and I'd bet money the more they spent time together, the bigger those doubts were going to become.
"We aren't close, not in the way you're suggesting. Not in the way Lacey has been suggesting to you. And that has nothing to do with this investigation."
"And you're willing to draw that line?"
"Are you willing to draw a line between you and Lacey? She looked quite comfy on the couch."
"That's completely different."
"Because Jonah knows that I'm committed to you, but she isn't entirely sure?"
His jaw clenched. "Are you suggesting I've been unfaithful?"
"Are you suggesting I've been unfaithful?"
"Have you?"
I flinched at the comment. "How dare you ask me that."
"There are rumors, Merit, about RG partners. That they work . . . closely . . . together."
His tone had gone condescending, and I suddenly felt like a very small child standing in front of my father, who was furious over something I'd done. Ethan was angry, and I wished he didn't feel my RG and Cadogan oaths - or my obligations to him - were in opposition. But I knew Jonah, and I knew they weren't. I still believed in the cause, and I was going to apologize for only so much.
My eyes silvered, and my heart beat faster, blood humming in my veins as my anger grew. "This is business. It is only business, and nothing else."
He arched an arrogant eyebrow at me, which irritated me further. It might have been his signature move, but it was a ludicrous response. A ridiculous response . . . to a truly ridiculous argument. Were we really arguing about infidelity? God knew I loved the man, but he was a stubborn, tight-assed control freak who really knew how to push my buttons.
"Ethan, we are better than this," I said. "I don't know what she's telling you, but you know I wouldn't be unfaithful. She is manipulating you, building a wall between us, and not for the better of this House, but because she has feelings for you."
"I'm not being manipulated," he said. He didn't sound entirely confident, but there seemed little point in continuing to argue.
"Okay," I said.
We stood there in horrible, awkward silence for a moment.
"I feel betrayed."
I bit my lip against the sudden onslaught of tears. "I know. And I'm sorry."
Ethan nodded, but said nothing.
"Okay, then," I said. "I should get back to work." Feeling dejected and angry, I walked toward the door.
"Where are you going?"
"I'm not entirely sure. But I think we need some space before we say something we're going to regret."
Assuming we hadn't already.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
BOYS, BOOZE, BEEF, AND BETS
Fifteen minutes later I was still in traffic on Lake Shore Drive, with the lake to my right and Chicago's "big shoulders" to my left. Unfortunately, the drive hadn't done much to calm me down. The world was quiet, but my mind and heart were racing.
Probably Lacey and Ethan had been working. Probably they were taking a break after a long, miserable night. But probably that was time he could have spent with me, had he not been so angry.
He'd wanted a friend, someone who'd validate his feelings.
He couldn't have picked a better accomplice out of a catalogue. She was everything I believed I wasn't - graceful, stylish, cool under pressure. More like him than I was. Lindsey had once told me that was exactly why Ethan needed me, because I was fire to his ice. Lacey might never anger him, but she certainly wouldn't ignite him.
But none of that made me feel any better. Not tonight.
I slapped the steering wheel with both hands until my palms ached and the steering column felt loose. The poor Volvo. Fine Swedish engineering or not, it wasn't designed for vampire aggression.
There seemed only one option.
I drove to Ukrainian Village and the dive the North American Central Pack called home, at least in Chicago - a squat biker bar called Little Red. (Now also home to some of the city's best smoked meats. And I would know.)
Even in frigid temperatures, shifters lounged outside along the row of Harley-Davidson and Indian motorcycles that lined the pavement in front of the door. I smiled politely as I passed them, but they were big and gruff and, frankly, didn't give a crap about a skinny vampire, no matter how well fitted and buttery her leather.
I walked inside and was immediately pummeled by the Clash and the smell of sour cabbage. It must have been sauerkraut-canning night at the bar.
Berna stood in her preferred position - behind the bar in a T-shirt one size too small for her heft. But this time, she had a buddy.
Mallory, her ombre hair in high side buns - couture a la dairy maid - stood beside Berna and practiced pouring liquor into a row of shot glasses.
As I walked closer, Berna's instructions became clearer. "No," she insisted. "You pour quickly, no spills. I show; I show." She nudged Mallory out of the way and took the unmarked bottle of liquor from her hand, then proceeded to fill six glasses in a smooth, fast line without spilling a drop.
Mallory gave her a begrudging nod. "I'm not sure if I like you," she said frankly. "But you know your meat and booze."
"Those are two of the four food groups," I said, sitting down at the bar. "Mallocakes and pizza being the other two."
God knew Mallory was far from perfect, and our relationship was still delicate. But it took only a glance at my face for her to realize the source of my troubles . . . and roll her eyes.
"What did you do now?"
"Why do you assume I did something?"
"Because you're across town at this bar when you have bigger problems on your plate."
