He held the guy by the throat, pressing him against the faded paneling. The jerk’s feet dangled a foot off the floor. He should have been kicking, but from the color of the lowlife’s face, he wasn’t getting air, and probably knew one wrong move and his windpipe would be crushed.
“Tell her you’re sorry,” Chase demanded.
“You wreck this place, you pay for it!” the bartender, leaning against the bar, yelled out. “You wanna kill each other, do it outside. We’ll join you and take bets on who’ll make it.”
Chase, obviously ignoring the bartender, didn’t move. “I said, tell her you’re sorry!”
The jerk, his face now blood-red, couldn’t talk, but he moved his lips.
“I didn’t hear you,” Chase seethed. “Try that again.”
The man’s friend shot up from his chair. Della flew toward him, but before she got there, he’d slung a table at Chase.
Chase never looked back, but with his free hand he caught the table by one leg and held it up in midair like some kind of circus performer.
“Sit your ass back down,” Chase growled, and while he never looked at the table thrower, there was no doubt who he was talking to.
Della gazed around the room, watching for the next attack, prepared to intervene, if needed. Oddly enough, only the man’s friend who’d thrown the furniture seemed to be a threat. Everyone else just seemed entertained.
Chase set the table down. Almost gently, not breaking it. He turned his head, giving the room a quick glance. “I said sit down!”
The man’s friend remained standing, as if still debating his next move.
“I have a free hand,” Chase seethed, and waved his left arm. “Put your butt in that chair or you’ll be up against the wall with this guy and I’ll choke the life out of both of you! And if anyone else tries anything, I’ll do the same to them the second I’m finished crushing the windpipes of these lowlifes.”
The friend of Mr. Ponytail flopped back in his seat. “I never really liked his ass that much anyway.”
The bartender and the few other patrons laughed.
Chase didn’t seem to appreciate the humor. He stared back up at the red-faced, bulging-eyed vamp he held against the wall. “Now, you want to apologize? Or do I break your freaking neck?”
The guy croaked out a sound. Chase must have been happy, because he moved his hand from the guy’s neck, allowing him to fall to a heap on the floor.
The vamp coughed and rubbed his throat. Chase stood there for several long seconds, watching the guy try to draw air through his bruised throat, as if giving the creep a chance to get up and start more trouble. When he didn’t, Chase started for the door. He moved slow and with confidence. Not a bit worried anyone would attack.
He stopped beside her, and motioned for her to go first.
Unfortunately, Della didn’t follow orders. She waved him ahead.
He rolled his eyes, but then he walked out. As she moved through the door, she heard someone say, “I don’t know what kind of blood that kid was drinking, but I want some of that.”
Della stepped out into the cool October air. The night had grown darker. But the moon, almost full, cast silver light down on the woody terrain. She glanced around for threats, spotting only a couple leaning against the back of the building, their clothes half off.
Looking away, she studied Chase’s back moving in front of her. She didn’t want to be impressed. But, damn it! Color her impressed. She wanted some of whatever Chase was drinking, too.
Ten minutes later, she followed him in a fast run, or tried to follow him. He kept going faster and faster. His only comment to her when she’d stepped beside him outside the bar had been, “Keep up if you can.”
The one thing Della hated more than taking a challenge she thought she’d lose was walking away from one without trying. Her feet pounded the cold dirt. She kept her focus on Chase, who seemed to run without effort. His feet left the ground and he went into full flight. Della did the same, but the energy it took her to fly at that speed caused her gut to ache.
Midflight, Chase turned and looked at her. Checking on her. As if noting her condition, he shifted and started down, navigating between the trees to solid ground. He came to an easy stop, not even breathing hard, and looked up at her descending.
She hit the ground with a thud, but thankfully managed to stay on her feet. She tried to hide the fact that her lungs wouldn’t take air. Then, like the other night when they’d gone running, her stomach cramped. Swinging around, she lost the contents of her stomach in the brush.
When she rose up and wiped her mouth on the back of her hand, he stood beside her. “At least it wasn’t on my shoes this time.”
She glared up at him. She normally didn’t puke after her runs, but then again, she didn’t push herself like this either.
“Okay, you’re faster than me,” she snapped. “Don’t rub it in.” Admitting it cost her a bit of pride.
“I’m not trying to rub it in.” For a flicker of a second she saw what looked like concern in his eyes. “Running is good for you, come on. It will help.” He turned and took off again.
She didn’t.
He got about fifty feet, stopped, and shot back to stand in front of her. “Don’t wimp out on me.”
She ignored his insult. “Help with what?”
He hesitated before answering. “The grief.”
“I’m dealing with it.” And as much as she hated admitting it, it was true. Focusing on finding Lorraine’s killer held the grief at bay.
“Not very well.” He started walking, fast. She moved beside him. They didn’t speak for a few minutes.
“You ready to go?” he asked.
“To look for the Jugglers?” she asked, setting aside her angst with him.
“No,” he said. “To run. We’re done with the case for the night.”
“Done? How could—?”
“Someone will tell the gang we were looking for them and they’ll be here tomorrow when we come back.”
“What makes you think someone will tell them?”
“Because establishments like that are loyal to the local gangs. They depend on them for protection and business.”
“How do you know so much about gangs and establishments like that?” she asked, her mind going to her original beef with this guy. Where the hell did she know him from? Had he been a part of the gang that had been fighting when she first saw Chan?
“I’ve been on the streets a long time,” he said.
“How long? When were you turned?” She stopped to see if he’d answer.
He took a couple more steps, then faced her again. “I was fourteen.” He started jogging, but not at a breakneck speed.
She joined him. “How did you survive?” The muscles in her legs stung from her previous exertion.
“Race me back to Shadow Falls. If you win, I’ll answer the question.”
Temptation had her pulse racing, but she wasn’t stupid. “I’ve already admitted you’re faster.”
He stopped. “Race me, and I’ll tell you for trying.”
She didn’t like losing or consolation prizes. “Maybe I don’t want to know that badly.” She did, but her interest in him grated on her more than anything else.
“Sure you do,” he said confidently. “You wouldn’t have asked if you didn’t want to know.”
She frowned and tried to find a way to make this work for her. “I tell you what, I’ll race you if … win or lose, you tell me where I know you from. And this time, don’t lie to me.”
He blinked. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I think you do.” She glared up at him.
“Can’t you hear my heartbeat? I’m not lying.”
“You’re forgetting, I heard what you told our friend back there. You told me your parents were killed and you told him your mother lived here. So I know you lied to one of us, and your heart never skipped a beat.” At least she assumed it hadn’t skipped when he’d told this to the creep at the bar.
Chase appeared caught. “I lie when I have to.”
“Or when it’s convenient.” Maybe you’re a pathological liar.
“I wish it’d been that easy. Controlling my heartbeat is something I worked at for a long time.”
She remembered seeing his expression twitch when she thought he’d lied earlier. She moved in front of him and studied his face, but tilted her head to the side so he’d assume she was listening. “Does your mother live here?”
“I told you they died.” His eyes didn’t shift.
“Where have we met before?” She tossed the question out there and didn’t breathe, waiting.
“I don’t think we’ve ever crossed paths.” He didn’t blink, but his left brow twitched. Was that enough to call it a lie?
And if he was lying, why? What wasn’t he telling her?
He started walking again. She followed, trying to figure out her next move.
After a few minutes of silence, he spoke. “You should have never let him touch you.”
When she didn’t respond, he jumped in front of her and started walking backwards, making it hard to ignore him.
“He was answering my questions,” she said. “More than you’ve done.”
“I could have gotten those answers myself.”
She tilted her chin up. “I don’t think you were his type.”
Chase’s laugh caught her off guard. It sounded so deep and honest. She remembered how he’d handled himself in the bar. It irked her that she was still impressed. Impressed with a liar.
“You ready to run again?” he asked, as if thinking they’d found some kind of a truce. There was no truce. Not until she knew what he was up to. She recalled her conversation with Jenny. Who the hell was Chase secretly meeting with late at night at the Shadow Falls fence?
“Come on a short run,” he prodded.
“I’m done running.” What was it with this guy and racing? Was he training for the Olympics?
She darted around him, walking in the direction of Shadow Falls.
“Come on. It’s good for you,” he said, falling beside her again.
“The truth is good for me.” She felt him, too close. As if they were old friends.
They walked in silence. The night seemed extra quiet. Only the sound of their footfalls on the soft earth and dead leaves filled the night.
They were almost to the gate when he spoke. “My father was a doctor. He owned a small plane. We were all in it. It went down.”
She looked at him. Nothing about his expression said he lied. Quite the opposite. Grief touched his eyes.
“I was the only one to survive. But I was hurt pretty badly. The guy who found me was vampire. I was a carrier of the virus and when he helped me, I turned.”
“So he took you in?”
“Yeah.”
“Was he rogue?” She couldn’t help but try to see his angle for being at Shadow Falls. Was he helping some rogue organization or gang who wanted to shut down the school because of its affiliation with the FRU?
This wouldn’t be the first time.
“Depends on what you call rogue. He’s a decent guy but not registered.”
Of all the things he could have said, this was the one she could relate to the most. Wasn’t this the very reason she’d kept information about Chan from Burnett? Why she wasn’t mentioning her uncle or aunt?
“So why come to Shadow Falls?” she asked.
“I heard about it. Thought it’d be interesting.” His pupil in his left eye dilated slightly.
So he was here for a reason, but what? She almost called him on the lie, but now that she had a better handle on detecting his untruths, maybe it was wise to see what she could learn. Let the guy lie himself into a corner he couldn’t get out of.
Looking up, she saw the Shadow Falls fence ahead. She pulled out her phone to dial Burnett. She had missed two calls. But no voice messages.
She checked the numbers. One was unfamiliar for a second, but then she recognized it. Kevin, Chan’s friend. The grief that had been pocketed away slipped out.
What did Kevin want with her? Paybacks can be hell. She did owe him a favor.
The second number flashed across the screen and she felt her heartstrings being yanked in another direction. Steve.
She tucked all those emotions away to deal with later and started to dial Burnett. But her phone rang first. Burnett’s number lit up her cell screen.
“We’re back. At the fence on the north side,” she said in lieu of hello.
“Is everything okay?” The camp leader’s tone came off short. Tense.
“Fine.”
“Come to the office. Now,” he insisted.
Oh, hell, Della thought. Sounded like some more shit had hit the fan.
“We’ll be right there.”
“No,” Burnett clipped out. “Alone. I just want to see you right now. I’ll contact Chase when I need him.” The camp leader hung up.
Obviously listening, Chase’s brow instantly creased with worry, and she didn’t know who was in trouble. Her or the panty perv.
Chapter Twenty-six
Burnett stood silently on the office porch, waiting for her to arrive. When she landed right in front of the steps, he stood there, nose in the air and head slightly tilted as if checking to make sure they didn’t have company.
When his gaze landed on her and he didn’t scowl in the way he usually did when her butt was in trouble—which happened to be a look she was accustomed to seeing—she suspected the person on the camp leader’s shit list was Chase and not her.