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“Huh.” I pulled out my own notebook, glanced down at it and back up at him. O’Neal was watching my every move. “But you still see him on a regular basis, isn’t that right?”
“I…look, can’t you tell me about Dylan? Why are you asking me all these questions, Detective?”
“Just a few more, Mr. O’Neal. Do you still see Malone on a regular basis?”
“No, I wouldn’t say that exactly.”
“What would you say? Exactly?”
He was getting pissed off—his eyes were shooting off sparks, and his cheeks got redder. He puffed out his pretty lips until I had an urge to bite them. I wasn’t sure if that was extreme attraction or some of my vampire blood kicking in, but I could definitely see why Malone wanted him.
He was smart enough to know it would be a mistake to show his irritation too much, though. His voice, when he answered, was impressively calm. “He comes by here from time to time. We don’t date anymore.”
Conway checked his book. “Toby Baker, one of Mr. Malone’s associates, said you and Malone are still together. Still lovers.”
“Well, Toby’s wrong,” he snapped. “We’re not together. Not in that way. I mean, yeah, we’re still friends. I guess.”
Conway made a note in his little book. “You guess?”
His cheeks got even redder, and I hadn’t thought it possible. “We’re friends, yes.”
“Huh.” I looked over at Conway and then back at O’Neal. “That’s a bit unusual, isn’t it Jace? For you and Mr. Malone to remain friends after all that happened when you knew each other back in New York City? Did you get a head injury in that fight you had?”
“No,” he said coldly, giving me an eat-shit look. “Of course, I remember,” he snapped.
“Tell me then, because we know you were both involved in a huge altercation at the apartment he was sharing with you, along with a third party who beat you up. You remember—that guy he was fucking in your bedroom when you came home from work. According to what you told the authorities, you flew into a rage and began fighting with both of them.”
“I don’t know that Iflew into a rage, as you call it.”
“Oh yeah, then what would you call it?”
“I turned around and tried to leave, and then I was attacked by this other man. “
“And Dylan tried to help you. Oh no, wait. That’s not right. Hedidn’ttry to help you.He joined the other guy and they both started whaling away on you.”
“I don’t…that’s not exactly how it happened. I-I think Dylan was trying to stop the fight. That’s what he told me.”
“Oh, is that right? Well, according to neighbors, the fight spilled out into the corridor, and when they looked out, they saw both of them hitting you. And they saw all the blood, so they called the police. In the ensuing brawl, this guy—the third party in the fight—was shot by the officers, but still managed to attack the paramedics who responded to the scene and then escape. Sounds like quite a guy. Does any of this ring any bells, Jace?”
His face flushing bright pink, he nodded, not meeting our eyes. I continued. “Mr. Malone was hospitalized for a while, and you were questioned by police at the hospital, but released. When the detectives came to see you the next day, they couldn’t find you. They suspected domestic violence between you and Malone, but he was in no shape to be interviewed, and by the time they located your place of employment and found you, you said you didn’t remember anything. Does that sound about right?”
He glanced up at me, looking mortified. “Look, it was all a terrible misunderstanding that just got out of hand.”
“A misunderstanding…” I said, drawing out the word and glancing over at Conway as if to explain it to him further. “That’s all it was.”
“I see,” Conway said, nodding his head at me sagely.
“Actually, Jace,” I continued. “Those paramedics that guy attacked died of their injuries. Were you aware of that?”
When the full-blood tried to fight the police, they shot him, which apparently only stunned him, though they thought at the time that he was dead. Paramedics thought he was too, when they saw he had no pulse.
But he’d awakened just as they tried to load him into the ambulance and savagely ripped out the throats of both of them. Then he went after the police officers who tried their best to intervene and save the medics. When it was over, he had escaped, leaving four bodies behind him, ripped to piece.
“I…yes, I heard the people who tried to help him were killed. It was terrible, but neither Dylan nor I had anything to do with that. It was that other man—he must have been totally insane. Psychotic.”
“You claimed not to know who the man Dylan was with in your apartment.”
“That’s right. I never met him before that night. I’d seen him at a club once, I think.”
