Dead Heat (Taz Bell Book 1) Read online

  Freemont was now looking at me with what was almost pity, and it was possible to see disturbance in George's dark eyes. George was being practical for the sake of Freemont and me, but if I took Freemont up on his offer I was willing to bet that George would stop arguing. I could be as stubborn as I liked about not having Eric around, and only Freemont would suffer if George turned out to be right. Any suffering I did would be completely earned…

  "All right, go ahead and hire him," I found myself saying just before I turned toward my room again. "It's certainly not a matter of not being able to abide the man… I need to get into a bath right now."

  Silence followed me into my bedroom, a silence that would have been restful if not for the clamoring in my head. I didn't want Eric Wellman on our team, but not for any reason I could put into words. The way I'd reacted to the man before that vampire attacked us had frightened me, and I couldn't get that reaction out of my head. Eric was tagged in my mind as a threat, and I really didn't expect that to change anytime soon.

  I got out clean clothes and carried them into the bathroom, intending to start filling the tub with water. Instead I found that the tub was almost full, less than a minute of waiting time required before I could turn off the water and climb into it. Freemont must have started filling the tub just before I reached the suite, using his talent - again! - to help me out. It made me feel better about doing something to help him out for a change.

  Once I was in the water I washed my arms carefully, then kept them out of the water while I soaked the rest of me. The slashing cuts had all closed up and the pain had almost disappeared, but soaking the abused flesh would not have been a good idea. The wounds looked worse than they really were and would most likely be completely gone by tomorrow, but studying the red, raw-looking remnants of James's attack gave me an idea.

  After soaking for a while I finished washing, got out and dried off before dressing, then carried my dirty clothes back to my bedroom. Once that chore was taken care of, I went out to rejoin my partners and try my idea.

  "The coffee is over there, Taz," Freemont said as soon as he saw me, gesturing to the tray holding a pitcher and cups and the rest of the fixings. "Where did you want to eat tonight?"

  "I'm in the mood to eat here in the hotel again, assuming you don't mind, Freemont," I answered as I gave most of my attention to filling a cup with coffee and adding sugar and cream. "It also occurred to me that we ought to invite Eric to join us. It's customary to interview someone before you hire them, and then you offer them a three-month trial period. Saves having to fire them if you find they don't really fit in. At the end of the three months you just don't offer to extend the … relationship. If you agree, then George has to join us too."

  I turned with my cup of coffee to find my partners staring at me again, but that was no surprise. I simply sipped the coffee as I waited for an answer, and then George nodded slowly.

  "You know, that's actually a good idea," he said, speaking mostly to Freemont. "First we interview Eric, and then we offer him a three month trial period. If he works out, great. If he doesn't… Yes, I agree with Taz."

  "Then I think I'll agree as well," Freemont said, his smile trying to hide the fact that he'd been looking at something the rest of us couldn't see. "And if I remember correctly, Eric put his cell phone number on the résumé. I'll call and ask him to join us in the restaurant in about half an hour."

  I carried my cup to a chair and sat down while Freemont went for the résumé. I was not looking forward to seeing Eric and talking to him, but the interview idea was a good one. The black, short-sleeved tee shirt I wore gave anyone who looked at me a clear view of the wounds. If Eric turned all protective and disapproving, a three month trial might not even be necessary. My partners were able to recognize ludicrous when they saw it, and any attempt to protect an active rogue hunter definitely fell into that category.

  Freemont came back to say that Eric had agreed to have dinner with us, and then he asked for some details about the way the harpy had been taken down. George supplied the details while I sipped coffee, but with the last of the story he turned his gaze in my direction.

  "No one at all would have gotten hurt if Taz hadn't turned stupid at the end," he said, speaking to Freemont but glaring at me. "James was so grief-stricken that he tried to attack the SWAT team, and the only one watching him at the time was Taz. He somehow grew fangs and claws without losing human shape, but instead of shooting him with the shotgun she still held, she dropped the gun and dived in his way. A member of the SWAT team finished James off, but not before he clawed up Taz's arms."

  "Come on, George, I told you why that happened," I protested as Freemont gave me one of those looks while shaking his head. "When reflex takes over, it isn't my human side in control. If you can think of a way to change that stupidity, I'm all ears."

  "If it has to do with your other side, maybe Eric will have a suggestion or two," Freemont said. "After all, he's had to deal with the condition a lot longer than you have."

  "Don't tell me," I said, giving Freemont that look for a change. "His résumé included how long he's been a shapeshifter."

  "Actually, it did," Freemont answered, only a held-down glint in his light eyes showing how amused he really was. "Eric obviously wanted to supply all pertinent information about himself, and you have to admit that that includes his being a shapeshifter. Was he supposed to think that if he didn't mention his condition we'd forget all about it?"

  "How about his shirt size?" I asked, ignoring the question Freemont had put. "His preference in underwear? His exact height, including the length of his legs? How much body hair he has? How often he shaves? What about his ring size?"

  "Taz, those comments are a tad hostile," George said, no expression on his face where he sat on the couch. "Are you really feeling threatened by the possibility that someone who's had the condition longer than you might have more answers? That's kind of childish, don't you think?"

  This time I didn't respond to the question in any way at all, not even with counter questions. I just drank my coffee and kept my mouth shut, something I should have done a couple of minutes earlier. I'd decided to pretend that I didn't mind if Eric joined our group, but jumping down the throat of his résumé wasn't the way to do that. I half expected Freemont to take my part again and divert George, but he didn't. He just drank his own coffee and didn't say a word, and George just let the whole thing drop.

  When it was time to go down to the restaurant, we made a small, quiet procession. I'd left my weapons in the suite, of course, knowing that wearing them would make my partners suspicious. If not for that I probably would have worn the gun and knife, but not because I expected to be attacked. When people wear weapons in a very visible way, others tend to back off even if only inside their head…

  The maitre d' smiled when he saw my tee shirt, then began to lead us to a table. The picture on the shirt was of a heavy woman dressed as a Valkyrie, braided hair and all, with her mouth open. The picture made it clear that the woman was singing, and under the picture were the words, "It's over." Aardvark Screenprinting does lots of great tee shirts, and this one was one of my favorites.

  But when we reached the table, the maitre d' lost his amusement. The dimness had apparently kept him from seeing George clearly before now, but once he started to seat us it was a different story. I had to pull my chair out of the man's hands in order to get closer to the table, and that brought him out of the gaping stare he'd been giving my partner. I could almost feel him pulling himself together behind me, and then he gestured for a waiter before bowing and walking away.

  "I'm impressed," George murmured from the chair to my right once the man had walked away. "Instead of being bothered by my presence, he ended up embarrassed that he'd reacted improperly to a guest. I don't think I've ever come across that particular reaction before."

  "He's a professional maitre d'," Freemont pointed out just as softly from where he sat to my left. "He's supposed to take it in str
ide even if a guest walks in carrying his head under his arm. Right now I think his biggest worry is if the kitchens can handle whatever you happen to order."

  George and I both chuckled at that because we agreed with Freemont. It wasn't seeing a ghost that had bothered the maitre d', it was worrying what it would be possible to feed the ghost. Some societies do have ritualistic feeding of ghosts as part of their religious culture, which suggested that some ghosts actually might eat something. If George was able to eat things, he'd never mentioned it to Freemont and me.

  "Good evening, folks, I hope you haven't been waiting long," a voice came, and then Eric was standing behind the chair opposite mine. It was a relief that I hadn't felt him come in, but now that he was so close it was impossible to miss his presence. That tingling vibration telling me another shapeshifter was near was a lot more intense than what I'd felt at the shapeshifter headquarters Allen had taken me to.

  And looking at him just added to that. The restaurant wasn't quite bright enough to see his very light gray eyes clearly, but the longish blond hair framing a square, handsome face wasn't the same. He wore a dark green tee shirt and tan Dockers, the tee shirt doing nothing to hide the outline of the wide, nicely muscled chest under it. His arms were also nicely muscled, and he raised one of those arms to offer a hand to Freemont after nodding to George.

  And weirdly enough, Freemont took his hand. My partner usually avoided shaking hands with people, but this time there wasn't the least hesitation on Freemont's part. It actually took me a minute to understand why that was, and then I felt stupid. We were there to interview Eric to find out if we wanted him to join us; touching someone would be a natural part of the way a psychic conducted an interview.

  "No, we weren't waiting long," George said as the handshake ended and Eric took the chair he'd been standing behind. "We only got here a minute ago ourselves. Why don't you three order, and then we can get to the secondary reason we're here."

  George's suggestion was the natural one to go with, considering the fact that a waiter was only a couple of steps from the table. The maitre d' had spoken to the waiter on his way back to his station, and what was said became obvious when the waiter handed Freemont, Eric, and me menus, but opened the fourth menu and put it down in front of George. Then the waiter took drink orders from us before leaving us to decide what we wanted to eat. He also seemed disappointed that George didn't order anything to drink.

  "I think it's a good thing I didn't come in here before now," George murmured once the waiter was gone, the look on his face a strange one. "I keep getting the urge to order something outrageously ridiculous and claim it's what I need to sustain me. The only thing holding me back is the feeling that if I do do something like that, they'll find a way to bring me what I asked for."

  We all grinned wide at that, and the reaction told me why George's expression looked strange. He was fighting not to grin or laugh, because if he did he just might go through with the joke.

  "In my opinion you're being very wise holding back," Eric said to George, obviously having enjoyed the comment. "These people do seem dedicated to bringing their patrons whatever those patrons want, and special orders never faze them. Seeing a couple of those special orders made me wonder who - or what - they had working in their kitchens."

  "Obviously, you've eaten in this restaurant more often than we have," Freemont commented, only glancing at Eric as they both looked over their menus. "You might even have eaten here with your employers once or twice. Your former employers, I should say. How did Grail and Jaril take your resignation?"

  "At first they thought I was joking," Eric answered, a grimace showing briefly on his face. "After all, no one could possibly be serious about leaving their task force. I spent some time going after rogue shapeshifters alone before I joined them, and I'd be a fool to want to go back to that."

  "What did they say when they understood you were serious?" George asked, actually studying the menu he'd been given. "Damn, but I wish I could try some of this…"

  "When they realized I was serious - and why I meant what I said - they tried to 'explain,'" Eric responded, and now his expression was faintly ridiculing. "They were told by one of their people that they needed a shapeshifter, but that was all the woman had gotten. They didn't know why they needed me, and it wasn't even me they'd asked for. Just a shapeshifter, and I simply happened to be the one assigned here. As soon as they found out more they called the police, because that was the only action they were told was necessary."

  "Those poor, innocent, misunderstood lambs," I said, anger forcing me to speak. "Did they also explain that trick Grail pulled, forcing me into a position where I had to go looking for very specific company? Company who just happened to be there because they'd brought him in?"

  "Of course not," Eric said, annoyance coloring his tone. "When I said I didn't appreciate being put out to stud work, they had no idea what I meant. Our meeting at the bar was nothing but coincidence, nothing that they had anything to do with. The idea that they'd set us up was too ridiculous for words."

  "What did they say when they realized they couldn't talk you out of your decision?" Freemont asked as he closed his menu and put it down in front of him. "Were they sorry or just angry?"

  "They made me glad I'd called instead of going to see them in person," Eric answered, a growling anger flashing in his eyes. "They verbally patted me on the head and told me I'd be welcomed back when I finally understood what a mistake I was making. Jumping at their throats wouldn't have gotten me anything but flattened, but if we'd been face to face…"

  He shook his head before going back to his menu, and Freemont and George exchanged a glance but didn't say anything. The glance was too neutral for me to be sure what was behind it, but for my own part I knew exactly how I felt. Behind all the personal reluctance to see Eric again was a base of solid suspicion, centering on the possibility that Eric had been ordered to join our group. By pretending he'd quit in disgust he could reasonably expect a warm welcome from us, and I couldn't quite figure out how to confirm the suspicion or dismiss it.

  It only took Eric a minute to come to his decision about what to eat, and as soon as he put his menu down the waiter appeared with our drinks. I'd ordered a cream soda, Freemont had asked for a diet Coke, and Eric a regular Coke. With the drinks distributed and all the menus flat on the table, the waiter took out his order book and turned first to me. I ordered the lamb chops with a baked potato and glazed carrots, Freemont went for the duck with baked potato and broccoli, and Eric chose the steak with baked potato and peas. When the waiter looked at George in an inquiring way, my partner smiled.

  "Everything looks absolutely delicious, but I'm sure you can see that I do have something of a problem," George said very blandly. "Can you tell me what customers like myself have ordered in the past?"

  "I'll - have to check with the kitchen, sir," the waiter answered after a definite hesitation. "If they can recommend something, would you like me to bring it?"

  "I think I'd rather hear first what the recommendation is," George returned very dryly. "There's so much my system isn't able to tolerate, you understand…"

  The waiter agreed hastily and left, and Freemont only waited until the poor man was out of hearing range.

  "Shame on you, George," Freemont said, not quite able to hide all of his grin. "That was a terrible joke to play on the poor waiter. And the kitchen staff. Now they'll be chasing around frantically, trying to find something to offer you."

  "Won't you be surprised if they actually find something," George came back, his own grin fully obvious. "If they didn't want to be put in that position, they shouldn't have treated me as if I'm still alive. There should be some limit to the idea of full hospitality."

  Eric laughed softly as I just shook my head, knowing it was a waste of time to scold George. He'd had a strange sense of humor while he was alive, and now that sense of humor seemed to be coming back. If nothing else, the return would make life a bit more interesting
for the rest of us. The waiter came back very briefly to bring a basket of those warm, crumbly rolls before disappearing again, and when I reached for a roll Eric frowned at me.

  "Taz, I didn't notice sooner," he said, looking back and forth between my arms. "What did you tangle with?"

  "We took down that harpy this afternoon," George said, also taking some of Eric's attention. "The man who was sheltering the harpy turned out to be a shapeshifter, and grief over her death made him try to attack the SWAT team with us. Taz intercepted him, but he cut her up pretty badly before some of the team blew his head off."

  "It's a good thing Taz was there, otherwise we'd likely have another reluctant shapeshifter or two on the list," Eric said with a shake of his head. "But what's this about the harpy? The only time I heard about it was when I called Grail and Jaril earlier. Jaril said I needed to come to an emergency meeting about a harpy that was just found in these parts. The meeting was supposed to get us started on catching up with the thing, but you've already taken it down? How did you know about it?"

  "They really didn't know about the harpy," Freemont said with a faint sound of ridicule before turning back to Eric. "The only reason we're here is because the locals brought us in about a long string of killings. Taz and George were able to tell them what was doing the killing because they'd come across a harpy before. I was able to locate the area of the harpy's nest, George found the specific house, and Taz led the SWAT team in to kill the thing. What I'm wondering now is, how did the task force finally find out about what they couldn't make us tell them earlier?"

  "Now I'm sorry I didn't go to that meeting after all, because I have no idea how they found out," Eric said, the question having been put to him. "Both Jaril and Grail were more than a little annoyed over the way you three refused to leave after they told you to. The task force is still involved in something they're not really talking about to anyone, and they were very sure that that's why your team was in the area. To butt into something they didn't want anyone else involved with."