Hannah Jayne - Under Suspicion

My ear pricked when I heard Nina’s voice drop into her singsong, sexy, sweet sound—the one usually reserved for big fangs and large favors. I pressed my forefinger in front of my lips, should Will decide to talk.

“Listen,” I mouthed.

“Harley, sweetie,” Nina said while I watched her press up onto her tiptoes. “I’m so thirsty.”

Will looked at me. Even under the faint, dusty light of the bed skirt, I could see that he was clearly alarmed. Frankly, so was I.

“Well, maybe we should see what we’ve got in the minibar,” Harley said, his voice deep and sexy.

“Oh, sweetie. You know what I’m really thirsty for?”

I felt a hot wire split down my spine. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. My own roommate gone rogue? My heart thumped painfully, and my fingers curled into the carpet. I gripped down to the studs.

“I just have this absolute craving”—Nina’s voice was a slow, seductive drawl—“for a French 75.”

Even from under the bed, the dumb-dog smile was evident on Harley’s face.

“Oh, yeah? What happens in a French 75?”

“It’s a cocktail, silly.”

Harley’s “oh” sounded crushed.

I watched Nina’s pointy-toed shoes move closer to Harley’s shiny ones, and I guessed she was pressing her body up against him in that way she had, snaking her arms around his neck, lips brushing his ear.

“I would do anything for a French 75. Be a dear and get me one.”

Harley broke toward the phone. “Let me call room service.”

“No”—there was an audible pout—“that will take too long. Run downstairs for me, sweetie? I would be so happy.” Harley didn’t answer and Nina drawled on. “And it would give me some time to freshen up.”

Will and I exchanged relieved looks when we heard the quick smack of Harley’s lips on Nina’s; we watched his wingtips hightail it for the door.

“What the hell is wrong with you two?”

“Aghhh!” Will and I both shrieked at the two coal black eyes that glared at us from under the dust ruffle. Will must have tried to make a break for it, because the next thing I heard was the unmistakable thunk of skull on box spring and Will grumbling while his hand massaged his forehead. “Son of a bitch.”

“Both of you perverts, out of there. Now.”

Nina pointed to the ground and Will and I shimmied out from underneath the bed like panicked puppies. If we’d had tails, they would have been firmly planted between our legs.

“What are you guys doing here?” Nina hissed over her shoulder as she crossed the room and threw the lock on the door.

Will leaned into me and barely moved his lips. “Oh God. Does that mean she’s going to kill us now?”

“Maybe,” Nina said, nostrils flaring. She was suddenly—noiselessly—a half inch from Will’s nose.

“Nina,” I said, sighing, “we need to talk to you.”

Nina lodged her hands firmly on her narrow hips. “And you couldn’t use the phone?”

I put a gentle hand on Nina’s cold forearm, then led her to the end of the bed. “Sit down, Neens. This isn’t going to be easy to say.” I licked my lips and looked from Nina to Will, who lowered his eyes solemnly. “Nina, Harley’s going to kill you.”

The edge of Nina’s lip twitched, and then the other one. She blinked, probably a half-dozen times. I watched her form fists, then stretch out her fingers. She wouldn’t look at me, and I put my hand on her knee.

“Are you okay?”

I felt the tremor roil through her before I heard the sound—a wild, high-pitched gurgle. I looked at Will; his eyes were wide, alarmed.

“Nina?”

She was shaking now; her tiny shoulders spasming; tears streaming down her face.

And then came the laughter.

“This is funny to you?” I gaped.

“No,” she barely managed to gasp out.

“We’re here to save your life!”

“That’s what’s so funny,” Nina gushed, pressing her palms against her mouth.

I stood up and stomped ineffectually. “Shut up! I’ve saved your life before! Why should this be any different?”

Nina doubled over, still engulfed in silent, hilarious spasms. When I looked at Will, he simply shrugged his shoulders; then cracked his own toothpaste-commercial smile.

I shook Nina’s shoulders, forcing her to look up at me. “Look, Nina. I’ve read Harley’s book, and all signs point to him as the Underworld killer. If he knows you’re onto him—or that you’re a vampire—then you’re probably next.”

Nina waggled her fingers at me. “Oooh, ominous! Sophie, Harley is no killer.” She patted my head affectionately. “But I love your paranormal paranoia. It’s sweet. And besides, don’t you think I could handle myself against Harley if ”—she held up a single finger—“it was necessary?”

Will sat down next to Nina on the bed and I wriggled between them.

“Normally, you aren’t the one I worry about in hand-to-fang combat. But Harley knows things, Nina. He knows about silver bullets and banshees and stuff. He’d know how to take down a vampire. He’d know how to take you down,” I implored. All of the angst of the occasion finally came out and walloped me. Suddenly I was hunched in Nina’s lap, crying, her cold fingers tenderly sliding through my hair.

“There, there, Sophie. It’s okay. I’m not dead. No one’s going to kill me.”

“I couldn’t stand it if anyone hurt you!”

“Oh, sweetie ...” Nina pushed me up so I was looking directly at her. She thumbed away the tears that kept spilling down my cheeks. “Will’s going to drive you home. Right Will?”

I could see Nina look over my head, her eyes focused on Will. He must have nodded or done something else in the affirmative because Nina zoned in on me again, cocking her head at a sympathetic angle.

“Nothing is going to happen to me, I promise. I’ll just have one drink with Harley and then I’ll come home directly, okay? We’ll watch some TV, make fun of Vlad’s horrible fashion sense, and maybe post a few fake online profiles on eHarmony. Sound okay?”

I sniffed and nodded, and Will handed me a Kleenex. Nina chucked me softly under the chin, then said, “Now get out of here. I’d rather have Harley think I’m a vampire than the three of us are swingers.”

Nina led us to the door. Before we left, Will turned to her.

“How did you know we were under the bed?” he asked.

Nina pointed to her nose, cocked one annoyed eyebrow. “Now get out.”

“Well, that was pointless,” Will said as we waited for the elevator.

I blew my nose. “Nina might trust Harley, but I still don’t. There is something about him that gives me the heebie-jeebies.”

“Is that the paranormally technical term for Spidey sense?”

The ding from the elevator interrupted my plan to slug Will and we quickly spun to examine the opulent arrangement of orchids on a side table, our backs to the open elevator.

“Was that Harley?” Will murmured.

I chanced a glance over my shoulder and watched Harley sauntering down the hall toward the room we had just exited, balancing a bottle of champagne and a couple of flutes.

We caught Harley’s elevator and I crossed my arms while Will mashed the CLOSE button.

“You still think Harley’s the one, huh?”

“Who else could it be?”

“Nina’s a big girl, love. With, you know, fangs. She can take care of herself.” He slung an arm over my shoulders and pulled me close to him. I breathed in his clean, refreshing scent of bath soap and detergent. I allowed myself to rest my head against his shoulder, to consider the idea that the fate of the Underworld might not be on my shoulders for the next fifteen minutes.

“Fancy a pint?” Will asked when the elevator doors opened on the lobby.