Right. Like he was even remotely concerned about never having seen her at church. “No, I live across town,” Claire replied, the lie slipping with ease from her lips. “And I’m not Catholic.”
“A shame. And yet you commute all the way here for work?” The priest quirked a dark brow.
“Gotta take the jobs when and where they’re available.” Claire made a show of focusing on busywork, filling ketchup bottles and whatnot. Anything to give him the impression that she wasn’t paying him much attention. “And bus fare is cheap.”
“An honest job for an honest life,” the priest remarked. “Tell me, Claire, do you live an honest life?”
She was wearing a name tag, but still the priest’s use of her name sent a zing of adrenaline through Claire’s bloodstream. The intimate murmur, the way he enunciated each letter, was like an unwelcome caress. Her pulse picked up as a riot of butterflies took flight in her stomach. There was something seriously off about this guy.
“I’m sorry, but the sort of life I live is none of your business.” Even if he was a priest, he had no right to ask her a question like that. Nosy much?
“But I’m afraid it is my business, Claire.”
His eyes met hers and for the first time Claire realized that his irises were so dark, she couldn’t even discern a pupil in their nearly black depths. Her intuition spiked. Dangerous! Get away. Get away, now!
“Who are you?” Claire asked, her body flushing with heat. She found it difficult to draw a deep breath and her lungs ached.
“I’m just doing God’s work.” He pushed a five-dollar bill across the counter and slid from the stool. Without another word he turned away and strode out of the diner.
The bell above the glass door chimed in protest with the priest’s passing and Claire released a shuddering breath as she slumped against the counter. She leaned over his cup, noting that he hadn’t taken a single sip. The five remained on the counter, untouched. Claire didn’t want it. Didn’t want anything to do with him.
“What was that all about?” Lance asked from the kitchen.#p#分页标题#e#
“Maybe he just really loves being a priest?” Claire suggested with a nervous laugh. “We get some interesting people in here, Lance.”
“You said it. Let’s just hope he doesn’t come in again.”
Somehow, Claire doubted tonight would be her last encounter with the priest.
* * *
“Three nights,” Michael growled. His agitation grew by the hour, his inability to find her a burr that had worked its way under his skin. “Nothing.”
“L.A. is a big city, Mikhail.” Always the voice of reason, Ronan’s optimism wasn’t so easily squashed. “If you’d let me call in additional help, our chances of finding her would be that much better.”
“No.” Michael couldn’t afford for anyone else to know about her yet. He trusted Ronan with his life, and yet he was one person too many. Michael had nothing of her but a first name—Amy—and her blood in his veins. That alone should have been enough to find her. But since she was human, tracking her wasn’t as easy as he’d hoped.
“You’re the boss,” Ronan said with a sigh. “But we are merely two bodies, Mikhail. There is only so much ground we can cover in one night.”
True. They’d been operating on the assumption that Amy lived somewhere near the nightclub. But after the first night Michael couldn’t find even a trace of her scent. He didn’t feel her presence at all. Which meant she didn’t live anywhere near the club district, and that left a vast city for him and Ronan to search. They might as well be looking for a single snowflake amidst a blizzard.
Michael estimated that if she was within a twenty-mile radius he’d be able to sense her. The metropolitan area alone boasted almost five thousand square miles. At this rate, her blood would cycle through his system before he could find her. Gods damn it. Would he have to suffer feeling the presence of her soul but never see her again? “We’ve wasted precious time.” On that Michael could agree. “We’ll start in the Valley and work our way back.”
Ronan settled back into his chair and regarded the liquid swirling in his glass. “It’s as good a place as any to resume the search.” He cast a sidelong glance at Michael and cleared his throat nervously. “I think that you should feed.” A low growl rumbled in Michael’s chest and Ronan held a hand up as though to calm him. “Your strength is flagging, Mikhail. I do not suggest this lightly.”