Blood Borne: Recombinant - Part 12
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Part 12

CHAPTER 16.

RACHEL.

Sean repeated his knock, sounding more insistent, and the beer cans caught my eye. When I grabbed them and tossed them into the trash, the blood on my palm smeared a little, reminding me that I was still wearing a b.l.o.o.d.y s.h.i.+rt. I pulled it over my head and threw it in the corner, then dampened a dishtowel and swiped at my neck and chest, getting all the blood off. Lea was right; the bite wounds from Caine were completely healed.

I realized I had a dilemma-take more time to go grab a s.h.i.+rt or answer the door in my bra and jeans. If it really was Sean, I could use the latter to my advantage.

I tossed the dishtowel onto the counter, then walked over and opened the door.

Sean stood on the other side of the threshold, wearing several days' growth of beard. His eyes widened as his gaze was drawn to my black bra, but he quickly raised it to my face.

Several things struck me at once. One, Lea had identified my visitor correctly, which only gave her claim of being a vampire more credence. Two, I was taking the news that vampires really walked the earth remarkably well. Three, Sean looked like s.h.i.+t. And four, even looking his worst, Sean still had his hooks in me.

"Are you okay?" he asked, sounding worried. "You're so pale." He leaned closer. "Are those marks on your neck?"

Apparently not as healed up as I'd thought.

I pulled the hair tie out of my ponytail and let my hair fall around my neck. "I was clumsy. What are you doing here?"

He glanced over my shoulder. "Can I come in?" I hesitated and his eyes softened. "Please? I need to talk to you about something important."

I didn't really want Sean to come in-the chances were pretty high that he was behind the order to chase us through Manhattan and ultimately kill Derrick. It seemed undeniable that Sean had a connection with the Asclepius Project, and based on what Lea had said, this wasn't his first visit to my apartment. I could barely stand to look at him, but I might be able to get answers, or at the very least, a few leads.

"I was about to make a pot of coffee." I backed away and walked into the kitchen, fully cognizant I was still wearing just my bra.

He followed me into the apartment and shut the door behind him. "You always did know the way to a man's heart."

"Ha!" I said, filling the pot with water. "I thought that was food."

He moved behind me, his chest dangerously close to my back. "For me, it's s.e.x and coffee, and you were always particularly good at the former."

I resisted the urge to turn around and beat the s.h.i.+t out of him even as I felt the tug of the chemistry between us. This man betrayed me two years ago, and he was most likely my enemy now. I couldn't let myself forget that no matter how he made me feel. If Derrick really was dead, there was a good chance Sean had played a role in that, as difficult as it was to believe.

I slid to the side and poured the water into the back of the coffee maker. "Ancient history, Sean."

"Why is there a b.l.o.o.d.y towel in your sink?" His voice was tight.

Dammit. "I cut myself," I said lightly as I scooped coffee grounds into the machine.

"That must have been one h.e.l.l of a cut," he murmured, lifting his hand to my neck. "Was it from this?"

I brushed his hand away and showed him my still-b.l.o.o.d.y palm. "Just my hand, but it looks worse than it is. I'm fine."

He grabbed my hand and used his thumb to brush open my fingers. I ignored the flutter of antic.i.p.ation in my gut and tried to pull free, to no avail.

"See?" I asked as he studied the cut. Thank goodness Lea had sliced my palm instead of puncturing it.

He studied my hand, then looked into my eyes. "Want me to kiss it and make it better?"

I jerked my hand free. "No, thanks."

His fingertips slid down my arm, sending chills down my back.

"Are you cold?"

"Yeah, I need to get a s.h.i.+rt," I responded, but I didn't dare go into my room. He might follow me there and somehow find Derrick's hidden bag. I grabbed my jacket off the back of the chair and noticed the Google search on Asclepius was still up on my computer screen on the coffee table. If Sean was part of it, the less he thought I knew, the better.

After shrugging on the jacket, I walked over and scooped up the laptop, closing the lid and setting it down on the table. "Would you like to sit?" I asked, sinking onto the sofa. "It will be a few minutes before the coffee's ready."

He walked over and I waited to see where he would sit. I still wasn't sure why he'd shown up on my doorstep at 7:30 in the morning, but I suspected it wasn't to ask me for a date, or even to screw me. In fact, according to Lea he'd been here before. So when he sat next to me, I knew he was playing me, big time. The question was why?

"What brings you by my apartment, Sean?" I asked, pulling my afghan over my legs. "How'd you know where I live?"

A grin tugged at his lips. "Please..."

"Isn't using cla.s.sified information for personal use against the rules?"

His grin spread. "Finding out your address doesn't exactly qualify as cla.s.sified information."

"Okay..." I conceded. "That brings us back to my original question. Why are you here?"

His smile faded. "I'm afraid I have some bad news. I wanted you to hear it from me."

"What?"

"Derrick..." He grabbed my hand. "He was murdered last night."

A chill washed over me. I'd accepted Lea's word for it, yet hearing it from Sean made it feel more real. "How?"

"Shot. In the head."

That seemed to fit with what Lea had told me, but not entirely. I had to decide which one of them I trusted, and at the moment I was going with Lea. She'd said whoever shot him had dragged his body away. If Sean had these details, it meant he had been part of his murder. I resisted the urge to scoot away from him. I had to play this out. "Nothing else? No other wounds?"

His eyebrows rose. "That's not enough?" When I didn't respond, he said, "Yeah. That was all."

My shoulders tensed. I was right. He was lying. Why was I surprised?

"I tried to warn him, Rach. But like I told you-he was obsessed. He was on a bunch of Doomsday forums, telling people to prepare for a zombie apocalypse and that the U.S. government was behind it. He'd truly lost his mind."

Doomsday forums? Zombies? "So then who killed him?"

He paused, as though weighing his words. "I suspect the Russian mafia. He'd been digging around in their business. He thought they were backing it."

I was quiet for a moment, trying my best to stay seated next to the man who had likely been behind the order to kill our friend.

Derrick was dead.

The reality of it finally hit me like a two-by-four. My eyes burned and I swallowed the lump in my throat. For some reason the truth of it only sank in then, while I was sitting there with Sean. Maybe it was because the three of us had survived so many near-death experiences together we had begun to think of ourselves as invincible.

"Rach, I'm sorry." He took my hand, his thumb making a sweeping smoothing motion. "Were you two still close?"

I tried not to jerk my hand away. I had to play this as though I was clueless about what Derrick had learned, but I couldn't suppress a tiny flinch. I decided it could be easily explained as a scorned girlfriend flinching at the touch of her cheating ex.

But a flicker in his eyes hinted that he might know the real reason, although I saw no malice in his gaze, only concern.

Which side was Sean really on? h.e.l.l, I wasn't even sure what the sides even were. More reason to keep him around and find out.

I shrugged. "Like I said the other night, we hadn't talked for a couple of years. But you can't go through what the three of us went through together and not be close."

"I know." The way he said it sounded more personal than an empathetic agreement.

I looked into his eyes, surprised and confused by the emotion I found there.

"Can I do anything?" he asked.

I shook my head, reliving the previous evening. What could I have done differently to help Derrick? I should never have left him alone in that car. I should have a.s.sessed his injury better. I'd left him there weak and defenseless. His death was on my head, and I wasn't sure I could live with that.

Sean must have seen the guilty look on my face because something wavered in his eyes. "I want to find who did this to him, Rachel. I promise to make them pay, but first I have to figure out who murdered him. Do you know anything that could help me find them?"

"You're going to help find his murderer?" I scoffed. "Since when does the U.S. military hunt down Russian mafia? Doesn't that fall under the jurisdiction of the NYC police department?"

"It's personal," he said softly. "You're right. He was like a brother to me. He had some mental health issues at the end with all his crazy conspiracy theories, but I still loved him." He shook his head. "I can't believe he's really gone."

My mind whirled. Did he really think I'd buy the Russian mafia angle when he reminded me in the next breath about Derrick's conspiracy theories? How could I get him to talk about what he knew?

"Are you sure you didn't see him after that night I found you in the alley?" he asked.

I lifted my eyes to his, careful to conceal my thoughts. Lea said he'd been here and his-or someone else's-goons knew Derrick had shown up at my apartment the night before. "Yeah, he came by yesterday afternoon. Said he needed a place to crash. So I let him sleep on my bed, I fed him dinner, then he took off, saying he had to go to a meeting."

"And he didn't tell you anything about the meeting?"

"No. He said it was too dangerous for me to know anything about."

Ironically enough, I had told him the truth. I hadn't learned much from Derrick himself. But Sean didn't believe me. The look on his face confirmed it. "I know you don't trust me," he said. "And I understand why. You have no idea how sorry I am for hurting you, but this is different. You can tell me the truth." When I didn't answer, he licked his lower lip. My traitorous eyes followed the movement. "I'm worried about you. These guys Derrick was poking into...they don't like outside interference or attention. If they think you were a.s.sociated with Derrick in any way..." His hand lifted to my upper arm. "Rachel, let me protect you."

Wrong choice of words. I scooted a few inches back, far enough to get my message across. "I don't need protecting."

Irritation narrowed his eyes. "Look, I know you're tough and strong. And I know you can kick most men's a.s.ses, but so could Derrick, and look what happened to him." His voice lowered and he reached for the back of my head, the heel of his hand resting on my cheek. "I love that you're strong. Since you, every other woman has been a pale imitation. I screwed up when I cheated on you, Rachel. I'll regret it for the rest of my life."

I jumped to my feet. "I have an appointment in the city in about an hour and I still need to get ready."

A sad smile filled his eyes. "Where's your phone?"

"Why?"

Orneriness spread across his face. "Are you always this suspicious?"

"Yes." There was no denying it, and I sure as h.e.l.l wasn't apologizing for it. My suspiciousness had saved my a.s.s too many times to count.

He laughed. "G.o.d, I've missed you. Now where is it?"

I continued to glare at him.

"I just want to make sure you have my cell number programmed into your phone. If you get into trouble, you won't have time to dig out my card."

"Fine. I'll put it in."

His body tensed. "I want to see you do it."

I groaned and pulled my phone out of my pocket. "What's the number?"

He rattled off the digits and I saved it into my contact list. "There. Happy now?"

"No. But it's a start." The longing in his voice caught me off guard. "I plan on seeing you again, Rachel. Whether it's about Derrick or something...more personal."

I tilted my head to the side, hating the small part of me that begged me to take him up on the latter offer, consequences be d.a.m.ned. I still had a hard time believing Sean would so callously have his friend murdered. "I guess we'll see about that."

He grinned, but it wasn't his usual c.o.c.ky grin. He moved closer and pressed his lips to my forehead, leaving a lingering kiss. "If you see or hear anything about Derrick, call me-not anyone else-just me. Please?" When I didn't answer, he put his finger under my chin and tilted my face up to stare into my eyes. "You don't have to do this alone, Rachel. You have to let other people in. It's not such a bad thing."

My shoulders stiffened. "Well, look where it got me with you."

He dropped his hand and took a step back. "Did you ever consider that if you'd let me in-really in-I might not have been tempted to stray?"

He wasn't asking me anything I hadn't already considered, but between Derrick's death and the whole finding-out-vampires-were-real thing, I could do without an impromptu therapy session. "Cheating is still cheating, Sean. Which makes you untrustworthy."

He shook his head. "I'll do everything I can to prove that you can trust me."

I put my hands on my hips. "Why?"

"Because I think your life depends on it." He paused and his voice lowered. "And because I never stopped caring about you."

Then he spun around and walked out the front door.

I followed and turned the deadbolt, more confused than ever. Part of me wondered if Sean could be right. Had Derrick really lost it? If so, then how did I explain the people shooting at us last night? But Sean had always been able to slip through my bulls.h.i.+t meter. I couldn't trust him, no matter how many pretty words fell from his lips.

Derrick hadn't been killed by the Russian mafia, and I suspected Sean either knew who killed him or was involved himself. He was stringing me along to get Derrick's research.

I dug Derrick's bag from its hiding place in the closet. If I wanted answers, I needed to work Derrick's trail backwards, and as quickly as possible, so I flipped to the back of his ledger and scoured the last two pages. An entry quickly caught my eye. Derrick had set up a meeting with a man named Brian Morrison. From Derrick's notes, Morrison worked at a bar in Greenwich Village, but he hadn't shown for their meeting.

What if Derrick had scared him off?

I stood and arched my back, stretching my aching muscles. Brian Morrison might have been leery of talking to Derrick Forrester, but I had a feeling he might spill for Rachel Sambrook.