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She forced herself not to sag with relief. Not yet. “Thank you, sir. I’ll get the proof.”
“And then we’ll talk again,” he said, but he was smiling. “And, Constantine? You can go easy on calling me sir.”
In the hall, she tried to walk without an added little hop in her step, but didn’t quite manage it, and when she caught sight of Doyle and Tucker in the hall near her office, she hurried to meet both of them.
“What have you got?” she demanded. “I need solid evidence that Braddock raped Tasha.”
“We’ve got shit on the girl. Rape, yeah. Tasha, not a thing. We can’t even prove he knew her.”
They followed her into her tiny office, then flopped into the two guest chairs as Sara paced. “Would there be physical evidence left on her?” she asked. In a human, she knew the answer would be no. For a vampire, though…She just didn’t know.
“Hit or miss,” Doyle said. “But if we can get her to agree to a session with a Truth Teller, that’s pretty weighty shit. I thought she was missing, though.”
“Apparently she’s back.”
“All right, then. We’ll bring her in.” Doyle started to push out of the chair.
“No,” she said. “I’ll arrange it.”
He glanced at her, eyes narrowed, nostrils flaring. “You have his blood in you.”
“The hell I do,” she said, not willing to discuss her personal affairs with the likes of Ryan Doyle.
“Hope not,” he said, his nostrils flaring. “Because I like you, Constantine. Not entirely sure why I like you, but I do. And I’ll be damned if I’ll stand by and watch that bastard hurt you.”
“Then you don’t have a thing to worry about.”
ChapterTwenty-Eight
Lucius sat on the edge of Tasha’s bed and held her hands in his. She was showered and changed, now in pink pajamas and a flowing pink robe. “You are centered now? The serpent well under?”
“I am.” She licked her lips, her eyes wide and scared. “I was so afraid I wouldn’t see you again. They wished to keep me away. Far away. And then they wished to kill.”
He stroked her hair, then pressed his hands against her shoulders, willing her to understand. “You are here. You are safe. And they will never threaten you again.”Never.As soon as she was steady Luke was going after Caris. He’d kill her. He’d kill Stemmons. And he’d do it in the most painful way he could devise.
On the bed, Tasha pulled a rag doll to her and hugged it tight. She tilted her head back, her nostrils flaring. “Girl,” she said. “The scent of a girl fills my room.” She lowered her head and stared at him with wide, guileless eyes. “Why, Lucius?”
“You have caught the scent of a friend of mine.”
“I saw,” she said, making him wonder. “Pretty girl. The way she touched you in that bar.”
“What bar?”
“Before,” she said. “Before you killed for me.” She tilted her face up to him. “That’s what he did to me. The judge. He did to me what you did to the pretty girl.”
“It’s different,” Luke said, an unwelcome chill in his bones as he remembered a similar comment she’d made when she was in San Francisco with Serge. “How long have you been watching me, Tasha?”
“I always watch you.” She rocked on the bed, and he knew that he was losing her again.
“Tasha, focus. The woman is important to me. And she will be staying with me for a while. Can you understand that? Can you be nice to her?”
Her eyes widened. “I’m always nice,” she said, then her forehead creased. “Except when I’m not. I wasn’t nice to them tonight, Lucius. The ones who kept me. The ones who wanted to hurt me.”
“And to them you never need to be,” he said, taking her hand and cursing his earlier fears, cursing himself for seeing cunning and contrivance even in innocence.
“Have to be nice to the girl, though. Your woman. Your Sara.”
“Sara,” he repeated. “You heard her name?”
