One Lucky Vampire

Six

“What?” Jake stilled, one hand on a can of tomatoes, and the other tightening on the phone pressed to his ear. Releasing the tomatoes, he turned toward his cart demanding, “What do you mean there was an incident? What incident? Is Nicole all right?”

“I think so,” Dan responded and he could hear the frown in his voice.

“What do you mean you think so? Dammit, Dan, I—”

“Shut up and listen, buddy. I don’t have long,” he said and then started right into explanations. “Someone tried to run her down when she came out of Canadian Tire. They came up slow and quiet, lights off and then just when I spotted them, flashed the lights on and raced the engine to charge her like a bloody bull. I barely knocked her out of the way in time and the car was gone when I looked up to try to see the license plate. But don’t worry, she doesn’t know I was watching out for her. She thinks I was just Johnny-on-the-spot. I even gave her the name Dan Peters instead of Shepherd in case you’d mentioned me as your partner.”

Jake cursed under his breath, and left his cart where it was to head for the exit. “I’m on my way.”

“No need. I’m following her to Moxie’s for coffee.”

Jake stopped walking and stiffened at mention of the bar restaurant. “In case I didn’t make it clear earlier, Dan. Nicole is off limits. She’s mine. Don’t mess with her.”

“You wound me,” Dan said, and Jake could hear the amusement in the other man’s voice. “I love women. I would never mess with them.”

“You mess with them all the time,” Jake growled. “You’re a fricking Romeo with a different Juliet every weekend. Nicole is not a Juliet.”

“Relax,” Dan said soothingly. “I just want to look her over in better light, make sure she wasn’t injured. I couldn’t tell in the parking lot, but she was pretty shaken up.”

“If you wanted to look her over you should have taken her inside the store or to the Tim Hortons coffee shop,” Jake said grimly. “The light in Moxie’s isn’t much better than the parking lot.”

“True, but it is more soothing than the harsh glare of a coffee shop’s bright lights would have been, and I think she’s in serious need of soothing right now.”

“Then I’ll do the damned soothing. Send her back to the grocery store,” he barked, starting to walk again.

“Too late. We’re at Moxie’s now. She’s parked and I’m parking. Finish your shopping, buddy. I’ll behave and follow at a discreet distance when you text that you’re done and she heads over to pick you up.”

“You—” Jake paused. Dan had hung up. He slid his phone back into his pocket and then stood there for a minute debating what to do. He couldn’t just show up at Moxie’s. How would he explain knowing she was there? And how would he explain not having the groceries he was supposed to be getting?

Cursing under his breath, Jake turned and hurried back to his cart. He’d taken his time and was only halfway through the grocery store. He’d finish shopping, but much more quickly than he had been doing . . . and he wasn’t leaving Nicole’s side again between now and the finalization of the divorce. Jake was quite sure the driver of the car had been Nicole’s soon to be ex-husband. The bit about turning the lights on just before revving the engine was what made him think that. Why turn on the lights first? It had acted as a warning. But it had also no doubt blinded Nicole and the only reason to blind her before revving the engine was to ensure she didn’t glance over at the sound and see the driver . . . and recognize him.

With two weeks—or thirteen days and counting—Rodolfo was obviously getting desperate. Accidental explosions were one thing, but running her down in public was the act of a desperate man.

It was time to find out more about Rodolfo Rossi, he decided, and knew just who to call to put on the case. Pulling out his phone, he searched his contacts and pushed a button, then placed the phone to his ear and listened to it ring as he tossed the canned tomatoes he still held into the cart.

“Hello.” The word was said on a laugh and was followed by, “Cut it out, woman. I’m on the phone here.”

“Vincent?” Jake asked uncertainly.

“Yeah. Who—Stephano?” Vincent asked, suddenly serious.

“Hello, boss,” Jake said quietly, not correcting him on the name.

“I’m not your boss anymore,” Vincent pointed out solemnly. “You quit on me.”

“You didn’t need me anymore. I couldn’t be your daytime V.P. and you already had a nighttime one.”

“We could have worked something out, Stephano. Besides, you can work during the day, you just need to take in more blood.”

“Yeah. Like that was going to happen,” Jake said wryly, but frowned as he realized he hadn’t fed since meeting with Marguerite yesterday. He’d intended to have a refrigerator and blood delivered to the house to keep in his room while on this case, but hadn’t got to that yet . . . and he was kind of hungry.

Pushing that worry away for now, he said, “Look, I’m sorry to call out of the blue, but I need Jackie’s help.”

“Jackie?” Vincent asked with surprise.

“Who is it?” Jackie asked in the background. “Is it for me?”

“Hang on, babe,” Vincent said, his muffled voice suggesting he’d covered the phone with his hand. Voice clear again, he asked Jake, “What’s up?”

“I’m a bodyguard now,” Jake said in case Vincent wasn’t as well informed as Marguerite.

“Yeah?” Vincent asked with interest. “That sounds cool. How do you like it?”

“It’s a lot less exciting than it sounds,” Jake said wryly.

“Yeah. So is detective work,” Vincent said on a disappointed sigh. “Bloody boring most of the time. A lot of sitting around, watching and waiting.”

“So is being a bodyguard,” Jake assured him.

“Man, what’s up with that?” Vincent asked with disgust. “I watched a lot of shows to train for helping Jackie with her cases; Castle, The Closer, Criminal Minds, even old Magnum P.I. Not one of them had the hero sitting around twiddling his thumbs and—hey, cut it out, I’m on the phone here, woman.” There were the muffled sounds of what might have been a short wrestling session and then Vincent said, “Sorry, Steph. So what can we do for you?”

“I’m guarding a woman in Ottawa and I need you guys to look into her soon to be ex-husband, find out what he’s into,” Jake explained, turning his cart into the next aisle and moving to examine the different pastas. Why did they make them in so many shapes and sizes? Was one size or shape tastier than another? He frowned over the problem.

“Right. What’s his name?” Vincent asked.

“Rodolfo Rossi,” Jake answered, tossing several types of pasta into the cart with his free hand. Better to be safe than sorry. He wouldn’t want to buy spaghetti and have a recipe call for those little bow tie type things.

“Rodolfo Rossi,” Vincent repeated. “Jackie’s writing it down. How do you spell it?”

Jake rattled off the spelling as he pushed the cart up to the sauces, adding, “He’s presently married to Nicole Phillips, but the divorce will be final in less than two weeks.”

“Okay. We’ll look into him,” Vincent assured him, and then paused briefly before asking, “You okay?”

Now it was Jake’s turn to pause. He considered the question seriously. He’d been pretty messed up after the turn, and definitely less than grateful to Vincent for saving his life and using his one turn to do it. He didn’t think he’d ever even thanked the man for what he’d done. Sighing, he stopped walking and said solemnly, “Much better. Thank you. And thank you for what you did, Vincent. I do appreciate it and I’m sorry I was such an ungrateful prick at the time.”

“Yeah, you were kind of a prick,” Vincent agreed with amusement and then gave a startled, “Ow! Hey, that’s husband beating!” that suggested Jackie had smacked him for the prick comment. Heaving a sigh, Vincent said, “Look, no problem. I understood it wasn’t your choice and that you needed time to deal with it. I’m just glad you’re doing better now.”

“Thanks,” Jake said smiling faintly. “I’ll let you two go now. I need to get back to work anyway.”

“Okay. Is this the number we can reach you at?” Vincent asked.

“Yeah,” Jake said.

“Okay. Later, Stephano.”

“Bye Stephano!” Jackie called.

“Bye guys,” Jake said, not correcting them on the Stephano bit. It was his name after all.

“Oh,” Nicole said, glancing down at her phone when it dinged to announce she had a text message. Jake was at the checkout. “I have to go.”

“Nancy’s done his shopping, is he?” Dan asked with obvious amusement.

“Jake,” she corrected dryly, though she knew he knew the name wasn’t Nancy. Dan had seemed to find the whole male cook/housekeeper thing a real hoot from the moment she’d explained about Jake.

“Jake,” he said dutifully as he threw money on the table to cover their coffees and stood up to walk her out. “So what’s he like, this Jake? A real mama’s boy? Gay maybe? Or what?”

“Oh, I don’t think he’s gay,” Nicole said at once, and she didn’t. She hadn’t really considered it before now, and couldn’t claim to have the best “gaydar,” as they called it, but she was pretty sure Jake wasn’t gay. At least she hoped not, she’d be terribly disappointed if he was . . . and had absolutely no desire to examine why that would be. The guy was younger than her, and an employee. She had no business thinking about him in that way at all. The last thing she needed right now was to think of any man in that way. Nicole had promised herself at least a full year of counseling before she would even consider dating again. But once that date had arrived, she’d decided maybe another six months of counseling was in order. She really did not want to jump back into the dating pool too early and land herself in another abusive relationship.

“Not gay, huh? So just a mama’s boy?” Dan said lightly as he walked her out of the restaurant.

Nicole just shook her head. Dan really seemed to have issues with her cook/housekeeper . . . and he didn’t even know him. As they neared her car, she teased, “Is someone feeling threatened? What’s wrong? Can’t cook?”

“Oh, I can cook,” he assured her. “I’m the best barbecuer around. Housekeeping, on the other hand . . .” He grimaced and shook his head. “I’m one of those guys who leave a trail of clothes from the front door to the shower. Drove my wife crazy . . . which, I suppose, is why she’s an ex-wife now.”

Nicole chuckled softly at the comment as he opened her door. She started to climb in, then paused and turned back. Holding out her hand, she said, “Thank you, Dan. For the coffee and for saving my life.”

He glanced at her hand, then accepted it and shook firmly. “You’re more than welcome, ma’am. All in a day’s work for us superheroes.”

Laughing, Nicole retrieved her hand and got into the SUV.

“I have your number,” Dan said as she settled in the driver’s seat. “I’ll call you later in the week and see how you are. Find out if you’ve recovered, had any more problems, or if Jakey boy is driving you wild,” he teased. “You might need an emergency coffee date to recover.”

“I just might,” she said on a laugh, pulling on her seatbelt. “Thanks again.”

“My pleasure,” Dan assured her and closed the door, gave her a little wave, and backed up.

Nicole started the engine, still smiling. She felt much better than she had right after the near miss. Her nerves were settled again, and while she was a little stiff and bruised, coffee with Dan had cheered her up. The man had flirted, but not seriously, just enough to make her feel good. He was a nice guy. He definitely had issues with men in non-conformist positions, but he was nice.

Nicole shifted into reverse, waved at Dan, then backed out of her parking spot to drive around to the grocery store to meet Jake.

“Do you recognize that car?” Jake asked, eyes narrowing on the little sports car waiting in the driveway when Nicole turned into it.

“It’s Joey. My brother,” Nicole added as she eased up the driveway and hit the button to open the garage door. She smiled slightly, and said, “He’s . . . well, you’ll either love him or hate him. There’s no middle ground with Joey.”

Jake raised his eyebrows at the comment. Marguerite had mentioned Joey while giving him the details about Nicole and her husband, but he’d understood that while the man had made millions in land development here in Ottawa, he’d got out of the rat race and retired down to the Southern states. Marguerite hadn’t been sure if it was Florida or Hawaii. Other than that, all he knew about the man was that he was thirty-eight, Nicole’s half brother from their father’s first marriage. That his birth mother had died when he was young, he accepted Nicole’s mom, Zaira, as his mother now, and that he adored Nicole as much as she adored him.

Jake peered at the man curiously as they drove slowly past him, and then Nicole steered into the garage and stopped the SUV. Once she’d put it in park, he opened the door and slid out.

“Yo! What’s going on? I come out to see my shut-in, workaholic sister who never leaves home and she’s not here.”

Jake glanced to the man walking up to the garage just as Nicole closed her door and hurried to the back of the vehicle to greet her brother.

“Sorry, sorry, sorry,” she laughed as she hugged him. “I had to go to the bank and then do some shopping. What are you doing here anyway? I thought you had headed for warmer climates?”

“I did. But Mom called and did the Jewish mother guilt thing so I came back,” he said with exasperation.

“Mom isn’t Jewish,” Nicole pointed out with amusement as she pulled out of the man’s arms.

“Tell her that,” Joey said dryly and then glanced to Jake with raised eyebrows. “Replaced Rodolfo already, have we, Nicki? Nice.”

“No!” Nicole flushed with embarrassment and gave Jake an apologetic look as she made the introductions. “Joey, this is my new cook/housekeeper, Jake.”

“Cook/housekeeper,” Joey repeated, eyebrows askance as he looked Jake over again. Despite that he moved forward, offering his hand. “Is that a euphemism or are you really a cook/housekeeper?”

“I really work for your sister,” Jake assured him solemnly, looking the other man over as well. Joey was a good-looking guy: golden hair and eyes, a nicely chiseled face, tight black jeans, a black leather jacket, expensive watch, and a confident swagger Jake suspected women swooned over. He looked a lot like his sister in the face and hair, but otherwise not so much. Nicole was short and curvaceous to his tall and lanky, and a jeans and T-shirt type gal compared to his more stylish dress. She also did not have a confident swagger. She was more like a hummingbird, rushing here and there with an anxious air.

“Well, cool then,” Joey said, shaking his hand firmly and then added, “No offense, but Nicki’s had a rough time of it and the last thing she needs is to be hooking up with someone right now.”

“So I understand,” Jake said with a nod, and then glanced to the SUV as Nicole opened the back.

“Good God, girl!” Joey exclaimed, moving to help take bags. “What did you do? Buy out all of downtown Ottawa?”

“I’m only responsible for the Canadian Tire bags,” Nicole assured him. “The rest is Jake’s fault. I think he thinks he’s feeding a small army . . . or a big one,” she added with a frown as she looked over the bags. “Geez, Jake, you did get an awful lot.”

“Don’t worry about the groceries, I’ll get those,” Jake said quickly, moving up to shoo them away from the vehicle. “Why don’t you two go in and visit. I’ll bring these up and make coffee for you, then start on dinner. I’m guessing you’ll be staying for dinner, Joey?”

“Thank you, I think I will,” Joey said, walking Nicole to the door. As they went inside, Jake heard him say, “This cook/housekeeper thing was a good idea. Whose was it? I know you didn’t come up with it by yourself.”

“Marguerite,” Nicole answered. “She suggested a cook/housekeeper would ease my burden quite a bit so I could concentrate on work. She even found me Jake. He’s a family member of hers so I know he’s trustworthy.”

“Ah, yes. Clever Marguerite,” Joey responded as the door closed behind them.

“Clever Marguerite,” Jake agreed dryly as he began to gather grocery bags, and wondering what the hell he was going to do about supper. He’d made several attempts at dinner, the last and only successful one being the peppercorn steak sauce that was to be poured over the steaks after they were grilled, but the recipe had been for two steaks. Of course, he could feed that to them and make himself something else to eat. It wasn’t like they’d welcome the housekeeper at the dinner table anyway.

Shaking his head, he turned his attention to the groceries.

“This one’s almost done.”

Nicole glanced up from the bags she and Joey had just carried into her studio to see that Joey had lifted the cover to peer at the portrait of the actress. Turning her attention back to searching the bags, she said distractedly, “Yeah. I’ll probably finish it tonight.”

“And this one?” Joey asked, peering under the cover over the stern older man.

“By the end of the week,” she said, barely sparing the painting a glance before returning to her search. She was looking for the mouse sonar. She wanted to plug them all in while she was thinking of it.

“Who’s this?”

Nicole glanced up again. Joey had uncovered the sketch of the couple. “Marguerite’s stepson, Christian, and his fiancée, Carolyn.”

“Geez, she must have married an old guy if he has a kid this old,” Joey commented. “I bet this Christian hates having a stepmom so young.”

“No.” Nicole smiled. “He seems to really like Marguerite. He calls her Mom and she calls him her son rather than her stepson. If they weren’t so close in age, I wouldn’t know they were steps. It’s really very sweet.”

“Hmm,” Joey said. “I’m not buying that they get along that well. He’s probably got the hots for her and hoping to slip in there when the old man dies . . . and I wouldn’t blame him. Marguerite’s a hottie. How old is she anyway?”

“I don’t know. Jake says she isn’t forty yet and that she married Jean Claude when she was thirteen.” Pausing, she glanced at the picture with a frown. “But Christian doesn’t look any older than Lucern, Etienne or Bastien.” She tilted her head. “I wonder if they were Jean Claude’s kids and not hers.”

“They have to be,” Joey decided. “She just isn’t old enough to have kids that age.”

“No, she isn’t,” Nicole agreed and then shrugged. “Still, even if she was thirteen when she married Jean Claude, she’s got to be thirty-five or something.”

“She doesn’t look a day over twenty-five,” Joey said firmly.

“I know. Nice huh?” Nicole said enviously. She’d probably look forty when she was thirty-five.

“Yeah, that’s what money does for you,” Joey said wistfully. “Enough money and you can look young forever.”

“Or you can look like a fan tester,” Nicole said dryly.

“A fan tester?” Joey asked with confusion.

Nicole nodded. “You know, the whole too many face-lifts thing where they look like they’re staring into a high-powered fan.” She pulled the sides of her face back with her hands so that her mouth and eyes were pulled into wide slits.

Joey chuckled, but then asked, “Do you think she’s had face-lifts?”

“Marguerite?” Nicole asked, letting go of her face. She shook her head and turned back to her search. “Nah. I think she just has some amazing fricking genes.”

“Hmm.” Joey covered the paintings again and wandered back to her. “What are you looking for?”

“I bought these sonar mouse-repellent things,” she muttered, giving up on the bag in front of her and grabbing another.

“You have mice?” Joey asked with a grimace.

“No. At least I don’t think so,” she added. “But I’d like to keep it that way.”

“Oh.” He grabbed the bag nearest him and began to help look through it. “Are these them?”

Nicole had just found two of them in the bottom of the bag she was searching, but glanced up and nodded when she saw that Joey was holding up half a dozen more. “Yeah. Thanks.”

As she got to her feet, he moved over to the rolling table she kept her paint brushes and other paraphernalia on and grabbed a pair of scissors to begin cutting open the packages. “So where are we plugging these in?”

Nicole smiled faintly at the “we” and leaned up to kiss his cheek as she reached his side. “You’re a star, Joey. Thank you for helping me.”

“Geez, sis. I’m just opening the containers and plugging them in. It’s not that big a deal,” he assured her.

“But I appreciate it,” she said simply.

Joey snorted and shook his head. “God, how did you end up so pathetic?”

“Nice,” Nicole said, smacking him in the back of the head when he set down the scissors to pull out two of the little white repellent gizmos.

Joey grinned and said, “You spent too much time around Pierina growing up. She encouraged that nice gene from Mom to bloom and grow. You should have spent more time around me. I got Dad’s selfish asshole gene, I could have encouraged that in you.”

The words surprised a laugh from Nicole and she ruffled his hair affectionately. “The very fact that you think you’re a selfish asshole means you aren’t.”

“Ha! Got you fooled,” he said with amusement, and then concern entered his gaze and he caught her arm.

“What?” she asked, and glanced down. She’d pushed up her sweater sleeves while searching, revealing the bottom of a large, dark bruise on her arm.

“What happened here?” he asked, pushing the sleeve further up.

Nicole blew her breath out and grimaced. “I took a bit of a spill coming out of Canadian Tire earlier tonight.”

“That’s more than a spill,” he said quietly.

“It’s just a bruise, Joey. I’m pretty sure I have several more of those. My hip and knee are both sore as heck and feel stiff, and I think I must have wrenched my neck as well. But at least I didn’t break anything.” Nicole shrugged and tugged her arm free. “I’ll take a dip in the hot tub before bed tonight and tomorrow it will all just be a good story to tell.”

“Hmm.” He didn’t look impressed. “Well if you don’t feel better tomorrow, you should go see the doctor. Maybe he can give you something . . . for clumsiness.”

“Ha, ha,” Nicole said dryly. “Come on, smart boy. Let’s go plug these in.”

“Where are we putting them?” Joey asked, gathering the little items in his hand.

“One in every room,” she answered, stopping to plug one into the socket by the door. “We’ll do the kitchen last. You can distract Jake while I plug one in there. I don’t want him to think I have mice. He might quit.”

“We wouldn’t want that,” Joey said with amusement.

“No, we wouldn’t,” she assured him. “He makes the yummiest omelets ever . . . and his coffee’s good too.”

“Can’t wait to try it,” Joey said as he followed her out of the studio.