Page 62 of Clash of Sin and Secret

Zane grunts. “It’s amazing what a bottle of five-hundred-year-old blood-infused wine can do to make new friends.”

Huntley chuckles, meeting my gaze in the rearview mirror. “Nothing says ‘sorry we were assholes’ like a priceless and irreplaceable vintage.”

I make a face at Huntley and then cast Zane a sideways glance. “Don’t even pretend to be mad. It was a great idea, and you know it. And it’s absolutely something Francesco would do to smooth over past grievances.”

He knows I’m right, and he’s not mad. He’s just being Zane.

Tucker pushes off the side of the truck and straightens when he sees us coming. He’s right where we left him, but his jaw’s tight and his shoulders are tense. Something is off.

I reach for his hand. “Everything okay?”

He squeezes my fingers but shakes his head. “Pack politics back home. I’ll fill you in later.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive. There’s nothing to be done about it right now and we have more immediate concerns.” He forces a smile and opens the passenger door for me. “How did it go for you? Did you get anywhere?”

I wait until we’re all shut into the cab of the vehicle before getting into it. “Cassiane wouldn’t name names and out her clients, but she showed us a map and the paperwork that tracks her restocking schedules and let us take it from there. There are three clinics that serve a section of midtown that have ordered almost six-times their usual supply of blood for the past six months.”

Huntley starts the engine. “Assuming Lazarus Kaza believes in shopping local, that gives us an area to focus on.”

“And how do we narrow that down?” Tucker asks.

Zane pulls his phone out and taps the screen to dial. “Brandon, I need you and Tripp to cross-reference the shell companies behind the push for the alternate exchange with property holdings that could house an army of turned mutts. The area of focus runs from Forest Hill to Sherwood Park to Davisville and back to Casa Loma. Look for large buildings like abandoned nursing homes, hospitals, hotels. Consider anything in midtown that fits and then call me back.”

He hangs up, his emerald gaze alight, a predatory smile playing at his lips. “We’re getting close. I feel it.”

My stomach growls. “Are you guys hungry?”

“No. I’m good,” Huntley says.

“Me too,” Zane agrees.

“Well, I didn’t partake in the blood-enriched bevvies, and I am. Any chance we can grab something to eat while we wait for Brandon’s intel?”

“Sounds good to me, beautiful,” Tucker says. “I could definitely eat.”

I laugh. “Have you ever said no to food?”

Tucker winks. “It takes a lot of calories to fuel this machine.”

I bite my bottom lip. “Oh, baby. Don’t I know it.”

Huntley groans. “Z, please make her stop.”

Huntley

Something monumental shifted in Scottie over the past couple of days. Something that cracked the foundation of her wall of anger. And through the cracks of that shattered shielding, the old Scottie is shining through.

She wasn’t always salty—she used to be fun.

And when she looks at me now, I see flashes of that mischievous girl once again. It does my heart good. I’ve missed her.

I pull the SUV into a shadowy spot between two streetlights and then kill the engine. The abandoned psychiatric hospital Brandon told us to check out is one block over—the last property on a dead-end street. We did a quick and casual drive-by just now but won’t learn much until we can get closer.

“It is definitely the kind of place where vampires would hole up.” I pull the keys and get out of the truck. “Plenty of space and access to the mayhem of the city, but still with minimal foot traffic and visibility.”

The four of us slip out of the vehicle and work our way over to the next block. A deep cloak of shadows allows us the advantage of stealthy travel—the moon and stars blocked by the thick cloud cover.

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