“He said ‘she’, didn’t he? And a colleague.” I sighed. “Another vamp, I presume.” It needled me to know there’d be another bloodsucker in the house, but at least Dalziel wasn’t insensitive to the needs of varying species, and would have pre-warned the vamp I was here. And he had a massive blood fridge; I’d spied it when Pavel heated up a glass for Charley to go with his dinnertime salad.
Charley came back and perched across my knees, wine glass in hand. “I think he said her name’s Baxter. Bit formal, to use her surname, but maybe she’s scary.”
“Can’t be any more formidable than Dalziel. Don’t forget he isthesenior British vampire,” I reminded him.
“Oh yeah, good point.” I watched his Adam’s apple bob, and I leaned forward to capture it between my teeth. I sucked hard enough to produce a hiss from my boy, then let go.
“Stop worrying. Your loving daddy isn’t going to let any harm come to you, or your pet dog.” Denigrating myself to bring a giggle to his lips was tough, but worth it as the light returned to his eyes.
He elbowed me with his free arm. “Dork.”
“Yep, but I’m your dork, and don’t you forget it.” I didn’t mean to growl, but his pupils expanded at the sound, and I heard his pulse gallop for a moment before it steadied and he gave me a solemn nod. I kissed his forehead and tipped him off my lap. “Behave yourself. I don’t want to meet this Baxter woman with a hard-on.”
Eleanor rapped on the door. “Gentlemen, Baxter is here. Dalziel said to come to the meeting room when you’re ready.”
Baxter was not what I’d been expecting. For starters, she was nearly as tall as me. Whippet thin, with the kind of mid-brown skin that made me think she was mixed race, she had jet black hair in a thick plait that snaked halfway down her back. Her pale brown eyes were large, luminous and shrewd as she shook my hand briefly. I could smell the vamp on her and mentally gave her points for not sneering. When she clasped Charley’s hand with far more enthusiasm than she’d shown to me, she grinned, and her fangs peeked out. Absolutely no fucking shame, this lot. As she turned to settle herself into a chair, I did have to force myself not to stare at her leather-clad arse, which was unfortunately very appealing.
In a cheery London accent, she thanked Pavel who glided in to bring us all drinks, and poured herself a glass of red wine. Curiosity overtook manners. I asked her, “Can you actually drink that?” Some silly part of me wondered if she was even old enough to drink, vampire age aside.
“Ohh yes…” She took a deep yet ladylike mouthful. “That’s good, really good. Del-boy, your cellar is a thing of exquisite beauty.”
Dalziel’s expression didn’t flicker, but he did heave a put-upon sigh at the casual mangling of his name. “Seriously, Baxter, must you?” he said faintly.
Baxter’s grin was wicked. “I absolutely must. It’s so much fun.”
Dalziel rolled his eyes. He cast his gaze in my direction. “We can drink wine, and most liquids, to be honest. Except fruit juice, oh, and milk. Those appear to qualify as solids, and our bodies reject them. I just don’t see the point, as alcohol and caffeine do absolutely nothing for me.”
“But alcohol tastes divine,” Baxter chirped. “And no hangover. Who’s gonna pass that up?”
“I don’t really get hangovers,” Charley supplied, and she beamed at him, then gestured for his empty glass, filling it to the brim. “Bottoms up, Charley boy.” Oh god, whatever she was planning, I really hoped getting him drunk wasn’t part of it.
It was not.
As Baxter explained, Charley forgot about his wine, and we sat there too stunned to say a word as she ran through how it should work. “And it will, because I’m one of the world’s best systems administrators. If not the best.”
There was a long silence while I contemplated the insanity, and total brilliance, of her plan. Of course, Charley spoke up first. “So you’re a hacker? Except a genius level one, and you use your powers for good, right?”
Dalziel snorted, and when Baxter glared at him, attempted to turn it into a cough. She gave Charley a curt nod. “Hacker is such a vulgar word. I’m way beyond that, love. Consider me your friendly technical expert, with a touch of Robin Hood thrown in, to keep the masses on their toes.”
“Oh, right. Sorry.” He seemed chastened, but it didn’t last for long. “So basically, you want us to make a porno, but just for the security footage. And you can really splice that into the regular feed so no one can ever tell the difference? I’m so up for this! I’ve never starred in a porno before.”
I growled before I could prevent it slipping out. “Chrissake, Charley, this is to get your head off of Ledge’s proverbial chopping block, not a chance to role-play Mickey Taylor. Tone it down a notch, huh?” I tried to soften my expression before catching his eye, because I wasn’t mad at him, but urgh. His enthusiasm for this crazy stunt was understandable, but in my opinion rather misplaced, considering the timing would beeverything.
He deflated instantly. “Sorry, Luc, got a bit carried away. And you do know Mickey isn’t doing sex work now, right? More’s the pity. But, anyway, this is the best of all worlds. I get an alibi, and I also get to have even more sex with you.” He brightened and addressed Baxter. “So, does he bend me over and fu—”
Bloody hell fire! I clapped a hand over his runaway gob and shook my head. “Just come and sit with me, and let’s hear the details from Baxter.” I dragged him off his chair and into my lap. He wriggled his arse provocatively, or maybe because he simply couldn’t help himself, but stopped when I dug my fingers into his hips — hard.
I grabbed the wine bottle and poured myself a glass. “Okay, Baxter, you’re the expert here, so I’m going to assume this will work. To paraphrase Charley, what exactly do you want to catch on film?” Unlike the man on my lap, I didn’t have an exhibitionist streak, and the idea of being filmed appealed as much as chewing off my tail, but for Charley I’d do pretty much anything.
Baxter smiled at me, as if she understood how I felt. “I was thinking a simple blow job. Faking it, obviously, as long as the angle’s right. You receiving, if that’s okay, and that way we should be able to mostly keep your face out of shot. It’s Charley we need to see clearly. Who he’s with isn’t important as long as he’s got that timed alibi to prove he couldn’t have been anywhere near the bloke who got murdered.”
Charley groaned. “What am I gonna say when they ask me why I lied? Why would I have been somewhere else?” He sighed. “It’s a good idea, but I’m worried it’ll make it even worse.”
“It won’t,” Baxter said firmly. “You like to dance, right?” Charley nodded cautiously. “Ritzy’s, that nightclub owned by the bikers, is closed on a Monday. You had a set of keys you found, and decided instead of handing them in like a good boy, you’d sneak into the club when you knew it was shut, and enjoy yourself for a few hours, practising to your heart’s content, with an audience of one, your adoring new boyfriend. Who is then so overcome by your sick moves, he pushes you to your knees to keep rolling with the feeling after you’ve got him all hot an’ bothered. When the murder comes to light, you say the first thing that comes to mind, i.e. that you were at The Dive, because you don’t want to own up to sneaking off with the keys to Ritzy’s. When shit gets real and the motorcycle club come after you, you panic and run, without thinking it through. You return to Tratton St Mary when your conscience nips at you, and come clean.” Her lips puckered. “I doubt they’ll let you keep your job, but you should be able to go home, at least.”
Charley’s sour expression made me want to laugh, but I tamped it down. “What’s bothering you the most?”
“Ritzy’s is such a shithole.”
