Welcome to the Neighborhood (32 page)

Greg paused for a few seconds to confirm the werewolf was truly unconscious, then headed for Chris. Alexi stood in front of the kneeling man, arms gripping her torso. Her paleness concerned Greg. The loss of blood had to be causing her pain.

“Where are the contents of the safe?” she asked.

Chris allowed the chains to slacken. The sweaty man gulped air. “The back. The back,” he said between breaths.

Alexi faced Greg with a look of confusion. They’d scanned the back room with the safe and found nothing. The room had a few pieces of furniture and a cot, nothing more. Greg suspected the guy was lying and pointed the gun at his shoulder.

“We were in the back room and didn’t see anything,” Greg said. “Where are her belongings?”

Panic drifted from the werewolf as heavily as his sweat. “I’ll show. I’ll show.” He breathed out.

Greg met Chris’s gaze and gave him a nod of agreement. They had nothing to lose but time, whereas the thief would take a bullet to his body if he caused problems. Greg doubted the guy wanted to wanted to end up like his two partners.

Chris held the chain around the man’s throat as he rose. The thief stank of sweat and fear. More proof to Greg the werewolf would cooperate.

Chris allowed the thief to lead the way to the back. The man’s shoes shuffled on the concrete floor as Chris kept a firm grasp on his collar. If a stranger walked into the barn, the person might think they were into some kinky sex game since Greg and Chris were both nude and Chris controlled the guy with a chain.

“Do you think he’s lying?” Alexi asked.

Greg couldn’t help but notice she seemed paler and her cracked lips led him to believe she was dehydrating. “I think he’s afraid so he will cooperate.”

She stepped forward and Greg placed his hand on her shoulder, stopping her.

“You don’t look well.”

“I’ll be okay,” she said softly.

He moved closer to her, placing his face inches from hers. “Maybe you should feed.” He kept his voice low, hoping Chris and the thief wouldn’t hear.

“When we get back, I will.”

“What if you can’t make it that long?” A touch of fear stirred within him. She’d lost a great deal of blood and judging from her scent, she still was. The pain had to be excruciating.

“I’ll make it,” she said in a firm, yet calm tone. “But the sooner we can get the hell out of here, the better.”

“Greg?” Chris called out.

Greg rushed to catch up with Chris and his prisoner. They were standing by a closed door at the opposite end from the room they’d broke into earlier. When they’d first entered the barn, they’d focused on the strange burning odor and searched around the table with tools which then led the to the nearby office. Greg had completely forgotten there was another door in the barn. A sense of hope fluttered within him. Maybe they’d find Alexi’s property after all.

He stopped a few feet from the two men and stared at the handle.

“Can you break the lock?” Chris asked Alexi as she approached.

She passed between the two men on the left and Greg on the right, then stopped in front of the door.

“Are you all right?” Chris asked.

She kept her head down as she wrapped her hands around the doorknob. “I’ll be fine. But if he’s lying, I’m going to snack on him.”

Greg stepped closer to her side, unsure if she had enough strength to break the lock. Jaw clenched and both hands on the knob, she gave it a quick jerk. Something snapped and she pushed the door open.

Cool, musty air rushed out as they stepped into the room. Greg flipped the switch on the wall while Alexi moved toward the center of the room. Shock left him gaping when the light illuminated their surroundings.

“Oh my God,” Chris said, pushing his prisoner into the crowded room.

Either the owners of the barn were hoarders or the movers had stolen from many people. Several filing cabinets stood along one side of the wall. An antique armoire took up the space in the corner. Appliances, framed artwork, laptops, cameras, flat-screen televisions and a variety of safes in various sizes packed the room. To the right, metal boxes, papers, jewelry boxes, jewelry, money and an assortment of junk covered two long tables backed against the wall.

Alexi had a look of horror on her face as she scanned the room. Clearly, she hadn’t expected to walk into such a mess to try to find her belongings.

Greg switched the gun into his other hand as he moved to her side. Without her noticing, he slid his fingers between hers. Her cold touch gave him a slight chill. She needed to feed, and soon.

“Do you see anything that looks like it might be yours?” he asked, giving a light squeeze on her hand.

“This is…” She peered at the tables and shook her head.

“I’d say these thieves have been in business for too long.” Chris forced his captive to his knees. The werewolf gasped and clawed at the links around his throat.

“So much stuff…” Alexi finished.

Greg wondered if the shock was too much for her in her weakened condition. Maybe she couldn’t focus. “You said jewelry and information on your clients were in the safe. Does anything look familiar?”

He waited as she scanned from left to right, her gaze moving fast. His patience was running thin. He wanted to end her suffering. She looked deathly ill and the scent of her blood made his stomach churn. A snack wouldn’t satisfy her. She needed several bags of blood, or several humans to replenish her strength. Until she could, the horrendous pain would only intensify. He hated to imagine what it must feel like.

She lifted her arm and pointed. “The brown metal box. I think it’s mine.”

Together, they headed for the table. Alexi slipped her hand from his as they reached the disarray of items scattered about. She grabbed the box and rubbed her thumb over the broken lock.

“Is it yours?” Greg asked.

“I don’t know.” She lifted the lid slowly. Passports and papers were inside. She slid her finger between the sheets of the passport on top. “It’s mine. The jewelry I had in here is missing though.”

Relief trickled through Greg. The discovery gave him hope she’d find her other belongings. “Is there anything else around here that’s yours?”

She shut the box lid and tucked it under her arm. Head tilted down, she surveyed the rest of the items on the table. She took a step to her right and snatched a stack of notebooks. “These look like mine.”

She flipped the cover up, pushed the notebook aside, and repeated the process with the others. “They’re my records I kept on my clients.”

Greg breathed a deep, grateful breath. With the discovery of the documents, maybe Alexi wouldn’t have to go into hiding.

He reached for the notebooks. “I’ll carry them for you. Is there anything else?”

She continued to scan the table while she dug into one of her pockets. “I see some jewelry of mine.” She shook the bag in the air and it crinkled as it unraveled.

Greg took the plastic sack from her. While he slid the notebooks inside, she picked out a vintage necklace from the mess on the table. He held the mouth of the bag for her as she delicately placed it with the books. She turned back to the disarray and plucked pieces of jewelry and paper, dropping one after another into the bag.

“Can you help me look for an old leather pouch?” she asked while she lifted a bracelet. She placed in the bag with the other contents.

A smile spread across his face upon hearing her words. For the first time,
she
asked for his help. She’d admitted she loved him, had acknowledged she trusted him and now requested assistance from him. The highly independent and untrusting woman he loved had blossomed. He couldn’t wait to spend every night making love to her, then wake up to her beautiful face.

“Is it big?” Greg asked. “Or shaped like a wallet?” He reached toward the heap on the back of the table and scooted items aside.

“It’s envelope-shaped.” She shifted the metal box out from arm and slid it underneath the other.

Greg held the bag near his thigh as he stepped toward the end of the table. Memories of his days visiting yard sales and flea markets returned to him as he scanned over personal artifacts, small appliances, jewelry, moneyboxes and knickknacks. The stacks of old dollar bills, coin collections, stock certificates and other paper items strewn about gave rise to his anger. The thieves could’ve taken someone’s life savings. He shook his head in disgust. Criminals from supernatural races gave the rest of them a bad rap. Life was so unfair at times.

“I’m not finding it,” Alexi said with a hint of panic in her voice.

Greg glanced over his shoulder. She’d taken another one of the plastic bags from her pocket and was now holding it. Something inside weighed it down near her hip. His eyes traveled up to her pale face where pain and anger were unmistakable.

“I need it,” she said firmly, then twisted to face the thief kneeling on the floor. The bag swished and bumped against her. She curled her upper lip, revealing her two pointy canines. “Where is it?”

The sweaty werewolf clung to the links wrapped around his neck. “I swear, everything is there.”

She stepped closer to him while maintaining a killer gaze that even gave Greg a slight chill. “It had papers in it such as death records and newspaper clippings.”

Chris yanked on the chain, tightening it around the thief’s throat. The werewolf choked. “I swear…” He gasped. “It’s all there.”

Greg turned, and his foot brushed against something that made a rustling sound. He stepped back and noticed a large black trash bag sticking out from under the table. A gap in the center showed it was full of papers. He placed the gun and the plastic sack in his hand on the table, then bent. Gripping the edge of the black bag, he pulled it out.

“I’m not sure if this is anything valuable or not, but this bag contains several papers,” Greg said.

She rushed toward Greg. Stopping near him, she set the metal box and the sack in her hand on the table. Greg held the trash bag open wide for her while she dug inside. She pulled out one of the thin pieces of faded paper that was on top.

“Does it look familiar?” he asked as she peered closely at it.

She kneeled in front of the bag and set the paper on the floor. “I don’t recognize the name, but the date is over a century ago.” She reached back inside and lifted out more papers, some tearing and some barely readable.

Greg peered in the bag and confiscated one of the more legible documents. It showed a bank name and account number with a balance detailing over several thousands of dollars. “This looks like a financial statement.” He handed it to her.

While she scanned over the documents in her hands, Greg sifted through the remaining contents in the bag. “Here’s a couple of newspaper clippings,” he said as he withdrew them.

Alexi took thin strips of paper and glanced over them. Not even a minute later, she pressed her eyes closed.

“What’s wrong?” Greg let the bag go and grabbed hold of her face, fearing she was in dire pain and needed immediate help.

She opened her eyes. “This is it. The bank statement, death certificates and obituaries…they were in the leather pouch.”

Greg’s fast-beating heart began to calm. “You had me worried.”

“The dates are all old and I recognize some of the names.”

Greg slipped his hands from her cheeks as he breathed a relieving breath. Not only had they found the documents on her clients, they’d located her maker’s keepsakes.

She dropped the newspaper clippings in the bag and shifted the contents as if she were searching for something. Greg held the edges, giving her room to look.

“Found it,” she said as she lifted an envelope shaped leather pouch from the sack. “That must mean everything that was in here is mixed up with other documents in this bag. It will take too long to sort through.”

Despair crept back into him. The bag was too heavy for her to carry all the way back to Jerry’s house and they lacked time to search for only her belongings. “What do you want to do?” Even as he asked, he thought of an answer. He could toss the little bags in the big one for the sake of convenience, but they would weigh it down more. If she could carry it across the street to the field, he could change and cart it back the rest of the way for her.

Alexi dropped the pouch back into the bag. She leaned back on her legs and stared straight ahead.

“Are you all right?” Greg asked.

She lifted her gaze. “I don’t suppose you have a lighter or matches with you, do you?”

He almost laughed, but then he wondered if the blood loss was causing her to be delusional. “Sorry, I left them back at the house, along with my clothes.” He tried to take it easy on the humor just in case she wasn’t clear headed.

She gave him a soft smile. “It was a joke. Of course I knew you didn’t.”

“There’s probably a lighter back with the tools,” Chris said, holding his captive still. “What do you need one for?”

“I want to destroy all this,” she replied and looked down at the black bag.

“But…you said–”

“I don’t want them anymore. I’ve held on to his stuff for too long. I thought if he ever came looking for me I could possibly use the information against him. I’m tired of holding onto the past. It’s time I let it go.”

Greg looked deeply into her teary eyes. Pain and suffering had filled her past, and if he had to guess, it probably started with her maker. While Greg hadn’t endured the kind of torment Alexi had, he knew from his own experiences that breaking free from those horrible memories was never easy. He wanted her to move on, but was now the right time? She’d had to deal with enough problems since she’d moved to Westport.

“Are you absolutely sure?” Greg asked as she wiped her eyes and rose. “Maybe you should think about this a little more.”

“No. I’m one hundred and twenty percent certain about this. I need to take my client’s records and my own personal belongings, but my maker’s property can burn. I don’t want it. I don’t need it. And I don’t want it to fall into the wrong hands ever again.”

“I have an idea,” Chris said.

Greg and Alexi turned at the same time to face him.

“Let’s burn the entire barn down.”