hanging around the vamps enough to really know the bastard, but he’d certainly seen him a time or two and he usually had at least two women hanging on him worshipfully. And they were usually as blond as he was, tall, buxom women—no surprise since that was considered the epitome of beauty in Constantine’s salad days a few centuries ago.
Not that Bronwyn wasn’t shapely enough in all the right places to please any man with any sense, but she sure as hell wasn’t a blond, a bimbo, or nearly as tall and buxom as the women that Constantine seemed to prefer to keep on his leash.
Well, he’d have to do some investigating to get to the bottom of it, he decided. In the meanwhile, he was going to have his hands full trying to keep her safe—and keep his hands off of her.
That might be the easiest part, he thought wryly. Between the protection spell the gods damned witch had put on her and her discovery that he wasn’t actually human, he was afraid he was going to have a hell of a time getting her into his bed or plowing those lovely rows of hers. He meant to give it a hell of a try, though!
He wasn’t going to be able to resist giving it a try. He just hoped the fucking witch hadn’t planted a spell on her that was going to wither his cock the minute he tried it!
* * * *
Caleb Westmoreland wasn’t pleased when the police came to call. He sent a chilling look at his butler as the man escorted them into his office. White faced, the butler babbled an introduction of the two detectives and hastily withdrew. After studying the two detectives for several moments while they studied his office and, no doubt, tabulated the price of everything in it, he finally curled his lips into the semblance of a welcoming smile. “What can I do for you gentlemen?” he asked sardonically.
The one the butler had introduced as Detective Reilly, looked at him sharply. “I believe you have a man by the name of Bill Duncan in your employ?”
Caleb lifted his brows. “I do?”
Reilly frowned, glanced at his partner, Detective Brown, and then looked Caleb over suspiciously. “I understood that you did,” he responded coolly.
Irritation flickered through Caleb. “Well, if you understood that he did, then 48
you’re probably right.”
“That name doesn’t ring a bell?”
Caleb smiled at him thinly. “No bells ringing. You must know I have somewhere in the neighborhood of a thousand employees.”
“We clocked it at closer to two thousand.”
“Is that a fact?”
“It is a fact. And it’s also a fact that Bill Duncan worked for you, was an officer of the company, in point of fact!”
“Hmm,” Caleb purred curiously. “Which company?”
“We didn’t come here to play at cat and mouse with you!” Brown snapped. “Do you know the man or not?”
Caleb’s lips curled in genuine amusement. “And here I thought playing cat and mouse was your forte!” he drawled. His smile vanished. “I believe I already informed you that the name wasn’t familiar, but then again, you must realize that I don’t personally handle the hiring and firing. It would be impossible to micro-manage my holdings—
which I’m sure you’re aware are fairly extensive—and still turn a profit. Would you like to take a seat? Or do you prefer to stand?”
The two men exchanged a look. “We won’t take up any more of your time.”
Caleb nodded. “Good day, gentlemen.”
Reilly paused at the door, as Caleb had known he would. “You might be interested to know that he was murdered last night. We found his headless corpse on a sidewalk downtown.”
Caleb lifted his brows. “The evil that walk our streets,” he murmured commiseratingly, then added on a sardonic note, “Thank the gods we have the police to protect us.”
* * * *
“What do you think?” Brown asked his partner as they climbed in their car again. “You think he knows something about the murder he ain’t tellin’?”
“I think he’s a fucking weirdo and I think he
C. J. Cherryh
Learning to Kill: Stories
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