"I'll be out in a bit," I called.
"I don't care if it was luck." Winkler refused to listen to me. Ten thousand dollars cash in an envelope—that's what he handed me. A reward wasn't the reason I'd gone looking for him in the first place.
"You ought to care. If I'd guessed wrong, you'd still be there," I frowned at him. "I do have a proposition for you, though."
"What's that?" Winkler quirked a dark eyebrow at me.
"Take back half this money and let me have the next four or five nights to go hunting that scum."
"You think you can find them?"
"No idea. I'd like to try, though." I was already leafing through the hundred dollar bills inside the envelope, counting out five thousand.
"You know, I think I'm willing to let you try." Winkler was grinning at me suddenly. "Keep the money. It's yours." He waved a hand dismissively. "Take tonight off and rest up."
"Fine." The envelope went into my pocket. Gavin, Davis, Phil and Glen had all been there, listening to the conversation. Gavin was frowning, as usual, and he followed me out of the house when I left.
"What you did for him was worth five times that," he muttered beside me.
"Maybe you're used to the big bucks. I'm not," my voice was a little frosty. "Now, I think you've seen a little too much of me tonight. Go away."
"It was my pleasure," Gavin said and left, allowing me to make my way to the guesthouse alone.
"I'll just bet it was," I muttered at his retreating back. I heard his low chuckle as I started up the steps.
* * *
"Honored One, the secondary was kidnapped by enemies and there was very little information to be had to track him. Even his experienced staff failed to come up with any ideas or methods with which to locate him. The primary, however, managed not only to track him but dug him out of a field where he'd been buried inside a metal box. At great risk to herself, she sent him back to the residence and then more than likely slept in the soil—I smelled evidence of charred flesh as well as blood from a knife wound about her when she returned the following evening. I must say, there are not many among us who might have met with such swift success on a similar assignment.
G."
She'd been reading when he checked on her later during his meal break. Lissa glared at him when he peeked inside her bedroom door. Gavin had already asked Davis to have the door replaced; she didn't like being unable to close herself off from him and the others—he could see it in her eyes. Gavin sighed and left her with her book.
* * *
Taking my favorite van, (the farmer had left it parked out front when he dropped Winkler off) I drove off the property as soon as I'd taken a shower and dressed. Gavin was frowning at me when I left, so I briefly considered giving him the finger on my way out. I fought off the urge—he'd find a way to retaliate, I just knew it. Serge and Ed crossed my mind, too. I hadn't thought of them in days but now that I was going out to hunt someone myself, my old fear reared its ugly head.
People are creatures of habit. I certainly was. I went to the same kinds of movies. Had my favorite foods, went to the same restaurants and bookstores. I'd gotten a really good scent off Winkler's captors. At least some of them. There were two distinct scents inside the Jaguar, both of them fresh, along with Winkler's of course. And the security guard's body hadn't been transported inside the car; the scent of it wasn't there. That meant they had another car, truck or van following to take them away from the burial site.
The Mexican food? That was a plus. They'd been hungry before they took Winkler out to shut him up in a metal box. I knew what that box was, now—the metal toolbox that went on the back of a pickup. Since there had to be at least three kidnappers, I was more than likely looking for a club or extended cab.
I also knew where most of the Mexican restaurants in town were. The people I'd worked with at the courthouse loved Mexican and we'd sometimes go out on our lunch hour to whatever the popular place was at the moment. That night I drove by Ted's Café Escondido, Border Crossing, On the Border, Nino's, Cocina de Mino and several little hole-in-the-wall places. I didn’t catch a scent at any of them. I even drove past the wheat field while more rain fell, watching as puddling water destroyed the footprints left behind. The ruts from the Jaguar were still there but since the police hadn't been brought in on Winkler's kidnapping, most people would think that someone had slid off the road and then managed to get their vehicle out again. It happened all the time in Oklahoma. Good Samaritans abounded usually and the odds of somebody coming along with a trailer hitch or tow bar to get you out of a mess were actually pretty good.
I fed while I was out, too, at one of the Mexican restaurants. Most likely, I was searching for a needle in a haystack but I wasn't willing to let those scum go. They hadn't been decent or honorable over what they'd done to Winkler. That metal toolbox was a makeshift coffin and if I hadn't gotten lucky he would have died—alone and frightened, I'm sure. Speaking from personal experience, I'd had it with people leaving you alone to die.
I also dropped by a twenty-four hour Walmart and bought more jeans. Gavin and the mud had ruined one pair and I was washing clothes every fourth day as it was. More tops found their way into the basket, too, along with additional underwear. I went out on a limb and bought cotton bikinis. Hey, I could wear that stuff now. If things had been different, I might have taken time to revel in the fact that I could now find pretty clothes that fit and looked good on me. Constant worry and watching your employer's back as well as your own will take those thoughts right out of your head.
"That was a bust," I said to Phil as I drove through the gate shortly before sunrise. I didn't take time to explain myself and he didn't bother to ask. I think we both knew I was grasping at straws.
A new door to my bedroom waited when I reached the guesthouse. It was nice and thick, with (gasp) a lock on the inside. Not that I held any illusions about that—Gavin could probably kick this one in, too. That man was stronger than he looked and he looked pretty damn strong. His scent was more wonderful than anything I'd ever eaten, including freshly baked cookies. No, Gavin didn't smell like any food I'd ever tasted before, but that didn't keep me from wanting to sink my teeth into him anyway.
Dumping my Walmart bags into the chair at the side of the bed, I drifted into the bathroom and took a quick shower, washing away the smells and everything else I'd wandered through during the night. I used unscented soap but that even had a smell to me, making me wonder if every vampire's sense of smell was that keen. I had a pair of windows in my bedroom but the drapes were lined and I had rolled-up towels on the sills to help keep light from spilling in under the edge of the curtains. Any dim light that filtered over the top of the drapes didn't bother me; I was still alive, or as alive as any vampire could be, I suppose. I yawned a little while I combed out my hair and flopped into the bed afterward, asleep before I could cover up.