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CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHANEL

A buzzing sound erupted, shaking me out of my sleep. The vibration under my pillow pulled me from my sweet dreams. The California King bed felt so comfortable before the noisy interruption. I shoved my hand under my pillow and fumbled for my phone. My eyes focused on the cell phone screen. My stomach dropped when I saw the Minnesota area code. I read the name and felt my chest tighten. Detective Crowley was calling. I rose from the bedsheets.As soon as I answered, I wished I would’ve declined the call.

“Hello?” My voice was a faint whisper, though I knew it would take much more than this to wake Zand during daylight hours.

“Ms. Taylor? This is Detective Crowley from the Bloomington Police Department.”

His formal tone sent a chill through me. I slipped from beneath the silky sheets and scurried across the cold hardwood floor, out into the hallway where I could speak freely.

“Yes, Detective. Is something wrong?” I wiped the sleep from my eyes.

“We need to speak with you. My partner and I are at the Chicago Police Department. Can you come in this morning?”

“Right now?”

“Yes. There’s been a development we need to discuss with you.”

“A development?” What could that mean? I hated how secretive they had been since the beginning of this mess.

“It’s about Alonzo.” Crowley said, and that wasn’t enough information for me to figure it out.

“How soon can you get here?”

I glanced at the time: 7:13 AM. “I can be there in about an hour and a half. I just need the address.”

“Thank you, Ms. Taylor. I will text the address to you. Ask for me at the front desk when you arrive.”

I waited for Crowley to end the call first. I was alone in the hallway with an irregular heartbeat. A development, the vagueness of it made my imagination run wild with possibilities, none of them good.

I walked back into the bedroom. Zand was lying motionless on his back, on his side of the bed. While sleep his face lost its intensity. His skin seemed softer and almost childlike. He was still fine as hell, but he looked peaceful when he was getting some Z’s.

I had grown used to his daytime absence. He needed at least four hours of sleep and I wasn’t going to wake him with this when I didn’t know what this was. I was a big girl and could handle this on my own. He wouldn’t even know I was gone until he woke up in a few hours. Hopefully, I would be back before that time came. I wasn’t trying to spend hours of my day at a police station.

I drug myself into the adjoining bathroom. The shower ran hot as steam filled the massive room. I washed quickly, trying not to think about what the detectives wanted from me. Crowley’s voice didn’t give anything away.

When I closed my eyes to rinse my face, I saw Lonzo. I remembered his last expression before he died. There was the shock and the realization that he would not survive. He saw Zand, the vampire, and he had to know he would die. I snapped out of the memory and opened my eyes, forcing the image away.

I was moving too slowly. I rinsed myself off and stepped out of the shower. After toweling myself dry, I dressed in dark jeans and a gray sweater. My hands shook as I applied minimal makeup and scooped my hair up into a ponytail. I needed to calm down. I grabbed my cell phone and played the song Calm Down by Rema featuring Selena Gomez twice before I exited the bathroom. Did that calm me? Maybe a little bit.

Downstairs, the loft was quiet and vast. Morning light filtered through the windows of the living area. The smell of coffee lured me into the kitchen. Coffee. I needed it. The rich, dark aroma wrapped around me.

“Good morning, girl?” Morgan muttered, with sleep clinging to her voice. She stood by the island sipping from a coffee mug. Her hair was covered in a silk bonnet. She looked at me with prying eyes.

“Morning.” I tried to sound upbeat.

“You completely dressed and not in bed with your man. What’s up?” She already sensed something was wrong.

“I got a call from Detective Crowley. They want me to come to the police station.”

Morgan’s lips twisted. “These fools still here in Chicago?”

I nodded, pouring coffee with hands that didn’t feel entirely steady. “They said there’s been a development in Lonzo’s case.”

“What kind of development? They the dumb asses that let him slip out of an ankle monitor and escape from Minnesota.”

“They wouldn’t tell me over the phone.” The coffee was too hot, but I sipped it anyway. It gave me something else to focus on. “I have to go in and talk to them— again.”

“I’m coming with you.”

“You don’t have to?—”

“Don’t even try it.” She cut me off with a look that said don’t argue with me this nice sunny morning. “There’s no way I’m letting you go down there alone. Those detectives are a fucking joke. At this point, none of this shit got anything to do with you. They lost old boy, so there is no trial for you to even testify at. They need to keep it pushing, cause what the fuck already.”

Morgan’s abrasive words gave me strength. Mostly because she was right. I knew Lonzo was dead, so I didn’t have anything else to add to whatever new development they had.

“Give me fifteen minutes to get ready.” Morgan was already heading back toward the guest room when I went to take another sip of my coffee that definitely needed cream and sugar.

While Morgan dressed, I called Josh. My driver answered on the second ring.

“Hello.” His voice was alert despite the early hour. I knew he was a vampire, so now I was wondering when he slept.

“It’s me, Chanel.”

“Do you need me to drive you somewhere?”

How did he know? “Yeah, I need a ride to 26 th and California. To the police station.”

There was a brief pause. “Everything alright, Ms. Taylor?”

“Yes. I just need to talk to those detectives from Minnesota.”

“I’ll be there in fifteen minutes, ma’am.”

“Thank you, Josh.,”

“No problem, ma’am.”

True to his word, exactly fifteen minutes later, the intercom buzzed. From the window, I could see the sleek black Rezvani SUV idling down at the curb. The dark tinted windows reflected off the morning sun. The vehicle really looked like something from a spy movie, bulletproof and menacing.

I scrawled a quick note for Zand and leave it in the bedroom as I tiptoe out.

Morgan emerged from the guest room in black jeans and a fitted gray sweater. Her makeup was flawless despite the rushed timeline. She squeezed my arm as we entered the elevator to go down to the ground level.

Josh was standing beside the rear passenger door, opening it as we approached. He greeted both of us and opened the back door so that we could climb in. After closing the door for us, his eyes scanned the street in a careful way. He was always on high alert. When Josh was around, I felt like I had my own personal Julius. He could be my bodyguard because he was, but he never let me ride shotgun.

As we pulled away from the curb, I stared out the truck window. Morning commuters were on the sidewalks with coffee cups in hand. The city seemed so normal, so unaware of things like vampires.

“What do you think they want?” Morgan asked, bringing me back into the moment.

I shook my head. “I wish I knew.”

The traffic thickened as we approached central downtown. My phone weighed heavy in my pocket. I thought about texting Zand. I didn’t. I could tell him what happened later.

As the police station came into view, the bland stone facade made my heart feel like it was under attack. I was so tired of this feeling.

Josh pulled the SUV to the curb in front of the police station.

“I’m going in alone. I will call if I need like a lawyer or something.”

“We’ll be waiting in the lot,” Josh said with his eyes meeting mine in the rearview mirror. “Call when you’re done. I will pick you up at this spot.”

I sighed heavily. “Okay.”

Morgan reached across the seat and squeezed my hand. “Don’t let them dummies intimidate you.”

I finally stepped out of the truck. I made it up the stairs and the automatic doors part. The lobby smells like industrial cleaner. CPD officers move about with purposeful strides. These cops looked like they have seen it all. It dawns on me that they haven’t seen vampires, and I get an inner chuckle.

At the front desk, a uniformed officer with tired eyes directs me to sign in. “I’m here to see Detective Crowley from the Bloomington Police Department.”

“I.D.” He responded, not looking up at me.

I slid my real I.D. slash driver’s license across the counter, watching as he typed my personal information into a computer.

“Wait here.” He said finally, picking up a phone.

I stood awkwardly at the counter. The fluorescent lights above casts everyone in a dull light. I looked around at a young woman crying softly in a corner chair. There was a man that looked homeless with bloodshot eyes staring blankly at a vending machine.

“Ms. Taylor?”

I turned to see Detective Crowley approaching. He looked a little different from the last time I saw him. He extended his hand, and I shook it.

“Thank you for coming in so fast.” His handshake was firm. “Follow me.”

He led me through a security door, down a long hallway lined with glass office windows.

“In here.” Crowley gestured to a small room.

The interrogation room felt smaller than it probably appeared. A plain metal table was bolted to the floor. Four hard metal chairs without seat cushions.This was a different room than the last time I was here, smaller and colder.

Detective Jamison was already sitting with a manila folder open before him. His salt-and-pepper hair was combed severely to one side, and deep lines that crossed his forehead could use some Botox.

“Ms. Taylor.” He acknowledged me with a curt nod. “Please, sit.”

I lowered myself into the chair opposite them.

Crowley began. “There’s been a development in the Alonzo Lopez case that we felt you should be aware of.”

I swallowed hard. “What kind of development?”

Jamison slid a photograph across the table. It was grainy and clearly from security footage. A woman whose face was partially obscured by large sunglasses despite being indoors. Her dark hair was pulled back in a severe ponytail. Even with the poor quality of the image, I could see the family resemblance to Lonzo. I knew her face. She hated me from the day we met.

“This is Marisol Lopez.” Jamison said, his voice flat. “Alonzo’s sister. Surveillance cameras captured her downtown at the Lakeview Hotel last week.”

My fingers hovered over the image, not quite touching it. “Are you sure it’s her?” I said, being dramatic. That was clearly the bitch that was after me.

Crowley nodded. “Her mother’s credit card was used to book the room. We’ve been monitoring the family’s financial activities since Lonzo went missing.”

“Do you know why she’s here?” I asked, though I already knew the answer.

The detectives exchanged a glance. Crowley leaned forward, elbows on the table. “We believe she’s looking for her brother. She may not know he’s dead.”

“Dead?” Give me my Oscar right now. “I thought he was in Mexico or somewhere else.”

“Lonzo hasn’t been spotted anywhere. There is no body, or remains, but we think he’s dead.” Jamison said.

“Cartel probably killed him thinking he was going to give some of their people up in exchange for a lighter sentence.”

“If that happened, why is Marisol here looking for him?”

“She doesn’t know. She probably doesn’t think the Cartel would turn on her family.”

“We wanted to offer you protection,” Crowley said. “Protective custody until we can locate Ms. Lopez and determine her intentions.”

The thought of being locked away, even for my own safety, made my skin crawl. “No.” I said firmly. “I’m not going into protective custody.”

Jamison’s eyebrows rose, adding more lines to his already creased forehead. “Ms. Taylor, I don’t think you understand the potential danger?—”

“I understand.” I interrupt. “But I have my own protection.”

“You mean the club owner, Valentine?” Jamison said with a note of disapproval in his voice. “We’ve looked into him. His club. His associates.”

A spark of defensiveness ripped through my core. “Okay and?”

“He appears to be a legit businessman for the last few years. Before that, nothing.”

I held back an eye roll. “Is there anything else?”

“Everyone who was subpoenaed to testify against Alonzo Lopez is in danger until his sister is found.” Jamison said bluntly.

I met his stare with one of my own. “Then find her.”

Crowley shifted in his seat, clearing his throat. “There’s something else you should know?—”

Jamison’s hand came down on his partner’s forearm. “That’s all we needed to discuss today, Detective.”

There was tension between them. Something passed between them in that look, a warning, a battle of wills. I felt it from across the table.

“What?” I pressed. “What else should I know?”

Crowley hesitated. “Just be careful out there. Chicago can be dangerous for young women. Women like you.”

Women like me? His generic warning felt hollow. It was a poor substitute for whatever he was about to say to me. Jamison’s expression was the same, but the tightness around his thin lips suggested they were holding something back.

“Is that all?” I asked, unable to keep the edge from my voice.

“For now.” Jamison said, closing the manila folder. “We’ll be in touch if anything changes.”

Crowley escorted me back to the lobby. My mind raced, trying to piece together what they weren’t telling me.

As I walked through the automatic glass doors, I felt more unsettled than when I arrived. I knew that Marisol Lopez was in Chicago. But it was what the detectives wouldn’t say that had my panties in a bunch. Something else was coming. I could feel it. But damn, I had enough drama and mess for five lifetimes.

I stood on the concrete steps of the police station waiting not more than a few seconds. I spotted Josh turning the corner. He pulled to the curb with surgical precision, and I hurry down the steps, suddenly desperate to be inside the armored sanctuary. The door opened before I could reach it. Morgan’s face appeared.

“What happened?” She asked as I slid into the seat beside her. “What did they say?”

Josh met my eyes in the rearview mirror, his expression neutral. “Where to, Ms. Taylor?”

“Home, the loft.”

He nodded once and pulled away from the curb, merging seamlessly into the flow of traffic.

“Coco, what did Beavis and Butthead want?”

I took a deep breath, organizing my thoughts. “Marisol Lopez is still in Chicago. I hoped she would go back to Bloomington when she didn’t find her brother. They showed me a photo of her at the Lakeview Hotel downtown. She used her mother’s credit card last week to get a room.”

“That’s it. Did they say what she was doing here?”

“They think she’s looking for her brother. But we already knew that. Crowley offered to put me in protective custody again, but I refused.”

“Good.” Morgan said firmly. “We can protect you better than those incompetent ass cops.”

“Calm down Angela Davis.” I joked.

As I looked over at Morgan, I noticed something in her expression. “What is it?”

“I need to tell you something.” Morgan’s voice dropped to just above a whisper. She glanced at the back of Josh’s head, then leaned closer to me. “I’ve seen her—Marisol.”

“What?” My hand flew to my chest.

“She was at this place called Club Bailar Caliente.”

“What? When?”

“Last night.” Morgan’s gray eyes enlarged. “Harlen called me last night. He asked me to go out with him and I thought, I don’t know what I thought. I just was trying to hang.”

“You went to a club with Harlen? Without telling me?”

“It wasn’t like that. You were asleep.” She said defensively.

I lowered my voice and gritted my teeth. “You aren’t supposed to go off with one of them without me knowing where you at.”

“Girl. You go off with them all the time by yourself.” Morgan tipped her head toward Josh.

She had a good point, but I needed to know if she was with a vampire just for safety’s sake. “I still need to know.”

“Fine. You know I’m fucking him, so I might as well go on a date with him, too.”

“I wish you would stop that, too.”

“Okay, now you trippin’.” Harlen was on some kind of stakeout. “We were just supposed to blend in, dance a little, have a few drinks. But then I saw him watching this woman in the VIP section. It was Marisol.”

“How did you know it was her?”

“Remember, after everything happened back at home? How we looked up Lonzo’s family members on Facebook? We found those old pictures of his sister. She was tagged in the one photo where she’s at her cousin’s quinceanera. She was wearing that ugly ass red dress. I recognized that bitch immediately.”

My stomach dropped as the memory surfaced. We spent hours hunched over my laptop in my old apartment. I was searching for any information about the Lopez family after Lonzo murdered three people right near me. Finding Marisol’s profile had felt like a small victory at the time.

“I forgot all about that.” I said.

“That’s why you got me. I don’t forget shit. She was with a woman and a man last night.” Morgan continued. “They acted her security. But they could’ve just been her peoples.”

“What happened?”

“Nothing. We left.”

“Did she see you?” I asked.

Morgan shook her head. “I don’t think so. Harlen rushed us out of there as soon as I told him we had to go.”

“You need to stay away from The Castle.” I said finally, turning back to Morgan. “And from anywhere too public until this is over.”

“What about you? What are you going to do?” Morgan asked.

It was a good question. One I didn’t have a good answer for. “I need to tell Zand about the detectives. About what they showed me. And I have to tell him you saw Marisol.”

“I think he already knows’ Harlen said he was going to tell him last night.”

“Was Zand going to tell me that y’all seen her?” Would Zand keep something like this from me? To protect me? The thought sat uncomfortably in my mind.

“You didn’t give him a chance to. It just happened a few hours ago.”

“We should both watch our backs.” I said quietly.

“Always. I came prepared.” Morgan opened her purse, and I looked down to see a shiny black handgun in her handbag.

“Where did you get that?”

“Remember, my daddy got me this when I turned twenty-one?”

“Yeah.” I forgot all about Mr. Hayes taking his daughter to the gun range occasionally.

“We know what Lonzo did to Craig. Marisol might’ve had something to do with it. You don’t have to tell me to watch my back.”

“That bitch is determined, and I know Zand and Harlen will not let her get to us.”

“I know we got them people.” She gestured to the vampire driving us. “But I got my shit just in case that bitch wanna run up.”

Could Morgan shoot someone? Sure. Now I wish I would’ve bought a gun for my own protection a long time ago. I had been too stressed to even think about gun ownership.

Marisol wanted to get to me. She never liked me from the beginning. Lonzo once told me she called me a perra bruja negra , black witch bitch in Spanish. The question wasn’t if Marisol found me, the question was— when.