Hot Demon in the City (Latter Day Demons Book 1) (11 page)

"Hello?" Lexsi answered her phone.

"Are you cooking, or do you want us to pick something up?" I said.

"I can cook," she replied. "What do you want?"

"Steak," Watson said immediately.

"Then stop and pick up what you want. Get the best cuts you can find. I'll grill them. I have stuff to go with them."

"Your wish, my command," Watson sounded as happy as I'd ever heard him.

"I'll get started on the sauce, now," Lexsi said and hung up.

"I get steak," Watson grinned. "My wolf is happy."

* * *

Lexsi

"Seared on the outside, raw on the inside. As ordered," I placed the huge T-bone in front of Watson. "Try the sauce, it's incredible."

I watched as he tentatively put a tiny amount of sauce on the chunk of steak he cut and placed it in his mouth. His eyes grew wide and his smile wider.

He attacked his steak afterward, but not before he'd dumped all the sauce I'd given him on it first.

Kory's steak came next; he wanted medium-rare, then Anita's and mine, because we liked ours medium. Every drop of sauce I'd made disappeared, along with the salad and sautéed asparagus.

"Damn, that was good," Watson growled and rubbed his belly.

"Want some coffee or something else to drink?" I asked.

"Nah. Let me savor this. I don't get meals this good very often."

"That was outstanding," Kory pushed his chair back. "Thank you for cooking. I'll do the dishes; it's only fair."

"I'll help," Watson scooted his chair back.

Anita blinked as both men went to work, stuffing plates, pans and flatware into the dishwasher.

Have you ever seen anything like that before?
She sent.

Only in a few guys
, I responded.
I like it
.

Who taught you to cook?

Mom and Gran.

They must be magnificent cooks.

They are
.

Chapter 7

Lexsi

I wasn't looking forward to dealing with Hannah and her dinner party. I didn't doubt my ability to handle caterers; I did doubt my ability to handle it if she continued to call me little bitch.

I wanted to punch her in the face for that insult—it pissed me off every time she said it. That was my thought as I gazed at my image in the mirror before leaving the house. The step backward was involuntary when the curl of smoke left my nostrils.

What. The. Bloody. Hell?

Only two High Demon females had ever breathed smoke—or turned Thifilatha.
What the hell was happening to me?

Regardless, I couldn't let it slip out again; people would be watching. I didn't need that scrutiny. Shoving down my shock and anger, I straightened the cuffs on my long-sleeved button down and headed for the bedroom door. The sooner I got on the job, the faster it would go.

* * *

Kordevik

I'd learned from Lexsi during dinner the night before that the Romes were coming to Hannah's party. What it meant was that Anita and I would be forced to stay engaged for a while—to make it appear authentic.

I wasn't her type, though, and she was comfortable with the fact that she wasn't mine, either. This could save my job as well as Lexsi's. I felt I owed Anita a favor, however, for doing this for us.

Lexsi had already left the house; she had to be there early to watch over Hannah's caterers. I couldn't imagine that any caterer would need that much supervision.
Unless
, I allowed a bit of smoke to curl from my nostrils.

This was a setup. I should have recognized it for what it was; Hannah's excuse for firing Lexsi, because she wouldn't be able to handle what she didn't have any experience with.

Except she did. I knew where Lexsi got her talent in the kitchen. I'd eaten at Dee's and Desh's in Targis. You couldn't get better food in either Alliance. "Fuck you, Hannah Tilton," I muttered, straightening the bowtie on my tux. "Lexsi Silver can make mincemeat of you—and make you taste good with the perfect sauce and wine to go with your sour ass."

* * *

Lexsi

It would have been better if Hannah had informed me that all food would be cooked on the premises, in her overly large, Sausalito mansion. She'd failed to mention that one vital piece of information.

The head cook had also failed to show up.

Whether there was a legitimate excuse or it was by design remained to be seen.

The caterer had sent a group of relatively inexperienced staff to help the head cook, which left me in something of a bind. Hannah wanted sashimi. She wanted salads. She wanted a multitude of other items, paired with appropriate wines and drinks.

She fluttered in and out while I rounded up the troops I'd been allotted. Somebody cooked rice. Another two chopped vegetables. Someone else was set to carefully slice tuna, Kobe beef and other delicacies. He appeared to have the most experience in the group; nevertheless, I watched carefully until I was sure he knew what he was doing.

"We have twenty pounds of fresh shrimp in the van," a young woman informed me.

"Then bring it in," I said. "We'll make pasta with seafood sauce. I assume you have cream and spices with you? I'll need some of the crab, too. Can you do that for me?"

"Yes," she bobbed her head.

"Good. Gather everything for me and we'll get started. Time is running out for everything except the sushi and sashimi, which will be made to order, you understand."

"Yes, ma'am." She took off as if she'd been fired from a rifle.

By the time guests began to arrive, everything was ready and in place, including three men who arrived late to work the sushi/sashimi table. There'd been no word from the missing cook the whole time.

"This had better be good," Hannah appeared at my elbow to hiss in my ear.

"Of course, Ms. Tilton," I nodded. At that point, she was lucky I didn't hand her to a sushi chef to cut into bite-sized pieces.

The following six hours were grueling, but Hannah received numerous compliments on the food and drinks. The seafood pasta was especially popular, and I was grateful we didn't run out until everyone had a chance to taste it.

Just as I was helping rinse pans before they were loaded into the catering van, a man and woman walked into the kitchen.

I knew who they were—except I didn't. Yes, they looked exactly like Laurel and James Rome, Jr. "I hear you made the seafood pasta," the man said, giving me a smile. "I'm James Rome," he offered his hand.

Lie
, I said to myself as I took his hand and shook. Laurel, however, was exactly who she said she was.

Somewhere along the way, James Rome Jr. had been replaced by a replica. I had a feeling Laurel knew all about it, too. Not only was the mystery deepening, it was spreading like a virus.

Where was the real Jamie Rome? How had Laurel replaced him? Why didn't they report the Ravens as guests for their anniversary party?

I had too many questions and absolutely no answers.

* * *

Kordevik

"Look," Anita said, "I can't obsess someone who's already obsessed—up to her hairline, in fact. You take that much control, there's nothing left to take."

"You're joking?"

We were in my Jeep, heading homeward after leaving Hannah's party as soon as it was polite to do so. Anita waited until we were halfway to San Rafael to drop her bomb on me. I'd wondered why she hadn't attempted to place an obsession when I introduced her to Hannah. Now I was learning the truth.

"She looked at you like you were prime rib and she was starving," Anita snapped. "If I could do something about that, I sure would have."

"At least Lexsi showed her a thing or two about cooking and serving guests," I sighed. "I overheard the catering staff discussing their head cook, who didn't show."

"I knew that bitch wanted to use this as an excuse to fire Lexsi," Anita fumed. "Now she's only safe until the next time Hannah wants her gone."

"Yeah, and we're still engaged until Ultra-Bitch finds a way to fire me, because I want no part of her," I said.

"I hope Lexsi gets out of there before Hannah gives her more grief," Anita stated flatly.

"Yeah," I agreed.

* * *

Lexsi

The last crate of equipment and supplies was loaded into the catering van while I made the fake Jamie Rome yet another martini with Grey Goose and imported olives. He'd had three since he and Laurel ventured into the kitchen.

She sipped her second fruit and rum drink—she'd inhaled the first one. That's when
he
came.

Just from the way he moved—smooth and nearly silent—I understood he was vampire.

Not just any vampire, either, but a very old one. I'd seen enough old vampires at Gran's palace to recognize one easily.

"Granger, come sit with us," Laurel invited.

"Thank you, but I was merely wishing to bid you good-night," Granger lifted Laurel's hand to his lips.

I realized at that point that I'd stopped breathing. Was this the one who'd killed Vann? Vann had been a close friend of the Romes. My brain churned with the possibilities.

"Young woman," Granger turned his old-world charm in my direction, "Your food was exceptional. Perhaps we'll meet again." I watched, openmouthed, as he glided out of the kitchen.

"Another martini?" Not-Jamie pushed his glass toward me. I lifted it with a shaking hand and set about making another drink.

* * *

By the time I made it home, it was past midnight. Hannah didn't speak to me on my way out the door, either. No words of thanks would ever pass those bright-red lips. She'd intended to fire me earlier.

Faux-Jamie liked my martinis, though.

Would that have a bearing on my treatment by Hannah the Horrible? I shuddered at the thought. Why was I hoping that whomever or whatever had replaced James Rome, Jr. would have any sympathy for an unimportant assistant?

If I hadn't been instructed to work where I was, I'd be turning in my notice the next day.

The possibility of far-reaching criminal activity between the Romes, Granger, Hannah and Claudia Platt astounded me.

After all, the Romes knew Granger, a powerful vampire. Something about him definitely pinged in the
Bad Vampire
category. Did Granger know Claudia Platt, too? Hannah obviously knew Granger, and she was a friend and employee of the Romes.

Vann had been, too
, I reminded myself. Had he stepped over a line, somehow, warranting his removal? Why?

I was tired and nothing was making sense to me.

It didn't help that I felt as if I were being watched all the way home.

* * *

"We need to talk," I informed Kory and Anita when I walked past the kitchen island where both sat.

"Tomorrow." I continued walking toward my bedroom, shut the door behind me and leaned against it with a troubled sigh.

* * *

Kordevik

Anita went to bed shortly after Lexsi did. I stayed up another hour, helping myself to the bourbon I found in Lexsi's seldom-used liquor cabinet. I wondered what Lexsi wanted to talk about with us. Did she realize that Anita couldn't do anything with Hannah? Had Hannah fired her anyway?

Everybody at the party raved about the food, so it couldn't be that. I sighed and poured more bourbon in my glass. How had our lives gotten so fucked up? We should be together on Kifirin, and I should be doing my damnedest to make Lexsi happy.

"What's the problem, man?" Mason took a seat across from mine.

"Just the usual
my life is presently fucked up
," I replied before downing my current dose of alcohol.

"Been there," Mason agreed. "Several times."

"Any word from Klancy?" I asked.

"He called from the hospital. They're letting the girl go Monday morning."

"So he's been watching both?"

"Yeah."

"You know that girl's dead meat if she stays in town past sunset," I said.

"I know that, too. Klancy and I talked about it. He may have something in mind."

"I hope it's something good. And effective."

"That makes two of us. If alcohol had any effect on me, I'd be drinking with you, bro."

"To your health," I held up my next shot of bourbon in a toast.

* * *

Lexsi

Sunday morning, early, I got a call from Farin. Not only had she gone out with Tiburon on Friday, but Saturday, too. She was bubbling over with how well they got along.

"Rick wants to ask you out," she said, abruptly changing the subject.

"Farin, no," I moaned. "I mean, I like Rick and all, I'm just not ready for this."

"Why not?" she demanded. I'd just refused her brother; she, as his loyal sister, wanted to know why.

"Because I was engaged until eight months ago," I said. "It uh, didn't work out."

"Oh my gosh, why didn't you tell me?" she breathed.

"It's personal," I muttered.

"Did he dump you?" she wanted to enact righteous indignation on my behalf.

"No, I dumped him, because I really didn't know him as well as I should."

"Did he cheat on you?"

"Farin, slow down, all right? I don't like talking about it because it upsets me. Maybe later, okay?"

"Oh. All right. I'm sorry I was gushing about Tibby, when you're still getting over—well, you know."

"Tibby?"

"It's his nickname. I gave it to him. Isn't that awesome?"

I didn't want to point out that even though Farin was an accomplished weather scientist, she was going on like a schoolgirl with her first crush. At least that's what Gran would have said. I'd never had a schoolgirl crush. Yes, I'd met plenty of boys and young men, but I'd also been engaged since infancy. There's not much you can do with that hanging over your head.

I guess what upset me most was I'd not only never met the one I was promised to, I'd never had any choice in the matter. What sane person wouldn't run away from that? I wasn't sure why he hadn't run away as well. Didn't it bother him that his wife had been selected for him? None of it made any sense to me.

Of course, I didn't know that he hadn't run away, too. I hadn't had contact with anyone except Aunt Bree since I'd left. Maybe he didn't show up either. Perhaps the guests had gorged on wedding cake and champagne while commiserating about foolish youth.

I realized I'd let my mind wander too far as I contemplated business cards with "Fool," written beneath my name. "Do you think it's too early to invite Tibby to the house for dinner?" Farin asked.

I'd lost an entire chunk of conversation by allowing my thoughts to drift.

"Alone or in a group?" I asked. "I think it's early for an alone dinner, but if you invite a few friends," I suggested.

"That sounds good. What are you doing next Friday night?"