Kissed by Darkness(40)
I had enough hardware on me; I could have taken him. Probably. Another look at his impassive face and rippling muscles had me second-guessing my assessment. In my experience, Clives were usually scrawny, pasty white guys, not big-ass African American guys with enough muscle to rip a vampire’s head clean off without breaking a sweat. I so did not want to get on Clive’s bad side, which might be difficult, seeing as how I was about to seriously piss off his boss.
As I moved in Darroch’s direction I glanced at his other muscle. This one concerned me a hell of a lot more than Clive did. He was the one that should have been called Clive. Pasty white? Check. Scrawny? Check. Not to mention he was short. Really short. At least a good three or four inches shorter than my own five foot five. Not exactly goon material.
That’s why of the two, I knew he was the dangerous one. Clive might have been big and scary, which was good for show, but this one was no doubt completely lethal. You didn’t go hiring muscle unless it looked like muscle. That’s the point. The only reason you’d hire a goon that didn’t look big and scary was because he was in reality the scariest one of all.
It’s horribly cliche, but I’d bet the farm the guy was an expert in several martial arts and probably had a few blades stashed about his person. I was so not looking forward to pissing Darroch off, but I really didn’t see I had a choice.
“Ms. Bailey, so nice to see you again,” Darroch said as he turned one of the steaks over and the scent of sizzling meat hit my nose. Damn, I was hungry. I hoped no one could hear my stomach growl.
He was wearing a pair of baggy cargo shorts which showed off his tanning bed fried legs and a flowery Hawaiian shirt. Seriously. All he needed was a lei and a camera and he’d look like a bloody tourist. He waved at me with the hand holding a beer bottle. “Come on over, pull up a chair. There’s plenty to go around.”
I stepped a little closer. The steaks smelled like heaven, but there was no way I was going to sit down for a meal with this man. My stomach was in knots just standing next to him.
I flipped a glance at Darroch’s guests. They were studiously ignoring us, intent on their cigars and one of the swizzle sticks who’d suddenly decided taking her bikini top off was a good idea. “Listen, Mr. Darroch, I need to talk to you.”
He gave me a smile just this side of smarmy. “Of course, Ms. Bailey. Have a seat. We can talk over lunch.”
I shook my head firmly. “Sorry, I can’t stay. Besides,” I glanced at Darroch’s Guido-like guests again, “this is a private matter.”
His eyebrows rose. “How intriguing. Clive, take over the steaks.” He ushered me into the house while the expressionless Clive manned the grill. Go Clive.
The pool was just off what appeared to be the same large family room I’d spotted during my clandestine visit. I seriously doubted it got much use as a family room, but the enormous TV screen along one wall and the autographed football on the mantelpiece told me it had probably seen quite a few Superbowl parties. Odd. Darroch hadn’t struck me as the Superbowl party type. Then again, I’d never pictured him as the manning the barbecue in a Hawaiian flowery shirt type, either.
“To what do I owe the pleasure, Ms. Bailey?” He was still playing jovial host with just a touch of smarmy as he settled onto the black suede sectional. In case I hadn’t mentioned it before, I hated smarmy and I loathed fake jovial. I decided to go straight for the jugular. I wasn’t much for subtlety anyway.
“Listen Darroch, I need to know why you want me to kill the Sunwalker and why you lied to me about the amulet.”
He didn’t even flinch. Kudos to him.
“I’m afraid the reason I want the Sunwalker killed is none of your business, Ms. Bailey. He’s a monster and your job is to find kill monsters. End of story. As for accusing me of lying, well, I find that to be extremely rude.” He crossed one leg over the other, took a sip of his beer and gave me a look that was just a tad too smug for my liking. Rude, my ass. It did not go unnoticed that he’d avoided the question of the amulet.
I leaned forward. “I don’t need to find the amulet, Darroch. I know you already have it. In fact, you’ve had it for the last twenty years. Why the charade?”
Was it my imagination, or had he actually frozen for just a second? He took another sip of beer, and then carefully placed the bottle on the side table next to the couch. He leaned forward, eyes boring into mine. I resisted the urge to squirm in my seat like a kid in the principal’s office. Barely.
“Ms. Bailey,” he bit the words off one at a time. “I will say it once more. Your job is to kill the Sunwalker. If you can’t find the amulet, then killing the Sunwalker will have to suffice.”