Biting Bad_ A Chicagoland Vampires Novel(32)
“Ethan will be perfectly well behaved. It’s my family I have to worry about.”
“Your father?” Catcher asked.
“More my mom and sister. They’ll start obsessing about Chicago wedding locations and whether we should select gold- or platinum-banded china patterns.”
Catcher snorted. “I’d almost pay to see Sullivan’s footwork on that one. It’s bound to be impressive.”
“Probably so,” I agreed. “Anything I need to know before we go in there? Is she a black belt in martial arts? Does she carry a crossbow? Is Buffy the Vampire Slayer her personal savior?”
“Because that would bum you out?”
“The slaying part would, yeah. Not the Joss part. We all love Joss.”
“Her background’s clean,” Catcher said. “She’s got a degree in human resources, but most of her jobs have been admin or lower management. She didn’t last long in any one position.”
“Sounds like she has trouble playing nice with others. Did she file grievances against anybody else?”
“Not that I could tell. She’d been at Bryant Industries for four months. We can get details on her time there from Charla.”
“Charla?”
“Charla Bryant. Her family owns Bryant Industries.” We reached the front doors, and Catcher opened one, gesturing for me to precede him inside.
The foyer was dark and sleek and still smelled like new construction: lumber, paint, and adhesives. I liked that smell; it reminded me of childhood trips with my grandfather to the hardware store.
We passed an empty security desk and headed for a bank of elevators. Catcher pushed a button, and we stood in silence until the elevator dinged and the door opened up.
“So what’s our backstory with this lady?” I asked when we were in the elevator and moving upward.
“Backstory? What do you mean?”
“Well, we don’t have badges, and we’re both supernaturals. She isn’t going to just up and divulge her nefarious rioting plot, certainly not to us. If we want information from her, we’re going to need a convincing backstory.”
“In other words, we need to lie.”
“That sounds much less pleasant, but yeah.”
“You really are a vampire, aren’t you?”
That comment was worth the slugging I gave him. “We need to figure out if she’s connected to the riots. So, we play like we’re vampire haters?”
“Can you do that convincingly?”
I smiled with saccharine sweetness. “I’m sure you can cover for me if I can’t. But yeah, I think I can pull it off. I’ll just remember some of my initial hatred for Darth Sullivan.”
“Have you ever told Ethan you called him that?”
“I have not. And you won’t, either, if you know what’s good for you. I’m not above biting a sorcerer.”
“I’m taken,” he flatly said, although I actually took that as a pretty good sign regarding his relationship with Mallory.
We reached the eleventh floor, and the elevator opened into a hallway with muted paint, and carpet in a complicated and probably expensive pattern. A round pedestal table sat in the middle of the elevator area, topped by a vase of very tall trailing flowers.
I followed Catcher to a door near the end of the hall. He lifted his hand to knock, but paused to glance at me. “You ready?”
I nodded, and he tapped gently on the door.
A few seconds later, she opened the door. She was an attractive middle-aged woman with neatly styled hair, blouse tucked into jeans, and high-heeled boots. Her makeup was impeccable, and large diamonds twinkled in her ears.
If this was Robin Pope, she wasn’t exactly what I’d expected. Overt bitterness tucked into a VAMPIRES SUCK T-shirt, maybe. But the woman and the apartment behind her seemed posh and completely devoid of an anti–Bryant Industries or anti-vampire sentiment. There were dark wood floors and sleek midcentury modern furniture.
“Hi,” I said. “Sorry to bother you. We’re looking for Robin Pope?”
“That’s me.” She smiled a little. “What’s this about?”
“We’re really sorry to bother you. We just—we hoped you could help us with something. We understand you used to work at Bryant Industries?”
“That’s right,” she said, her smile fading. “But I have a lawyer now, so any inquiries regarding that situation should go through him.”
“That’s actually why we’re here,” I said, feigning discomfort. I gestured at Catcher. “We heard about your grievance, and, well, we kind of agree with you.”
“Oh?” she asked. “About what, exactly?”