She shook him off, pulling away. "You think I'm crazy. I know what I saw - all of it! I'm not making this up, and I don't need any help. I just need the truth."
"Sheryl, honey," Carrigan said to the receptionist who was staring at them with apprehension in her eyes. "You wanna give Rudy Duncan a quick call for me? Tell him I could use him down here."
"Meds?" she inquired lightly, the phone already hugged between her ear and shoulder.
"Nah," Carrigan replied, looking back to Gabrielle. "No cause for alarm just yet. Ask him to come down to the lobby, nice and easy, have a little talk with Ms. Maxwell and me."
"Forget it," Gabrielle said, rising off the bench. "I'm not staying here another second. I have to go."
"Look, whatever you're going through, there are people who can help you - "
She didn't wait for him to finish, simply gathered what was left of her dignity, then strode over to the receptionist desk to retrieve the cup and bag from the countertop, and pitched both into the trash on her way out the door.
The night air was crisp against her flushed cheeks, soothing her somewhat. But her head was still spinning. Her heart was still pounding hard with confusion and disbelief.
Had the whole world gone mad around her? What the hell was going on?
Lucan had been lying to her about being a cop, that was pretty much a no-brainer. But just how much of what he'd told her - God, how much of what they'd done together - had been part of that deception?
And why?
Gabrielle paused at the bottom of the concrete steps leading out of the precinct house and took deep lungfuls of air. She blew it out slowly, then looked down to find her cell phone still clutched in her hand.
"Shit."
She had to know.
This strange ride she was on had to stop right now.
The Redial button brought up Lucan's number. She sent the call, then waited, uncertain what she was going to say.
It rang six times.
Seven.
Eight...
Chapter Fifteen
Lucan grabbed his cell phone from out of his leather jacket, a curse rolling hard off his tongue.
Gabrielle... again.
She had called him earlier as well, but he'd had to let it go unanswered. He'd been stalking a drug dealer whom he'd first spotted selling crack to a teenaged streetwalker outside a seedy tavern. Lucan had mentally steered his prey down a quiet back alley, and was just about to lunge in attack when Gabrielle's first call of the night had rung like a car alarm going off in his pocket. He had clicked the device into silent mode, berating himself for the uncustomary lack of sense that had made him carry the damned thing on his hunt in the first place.
Hunger and injury had made him careless. But the sudden bark of noise in the darkened street had proved a benefit to him in the end.
His strength was subpar and the cagey dealer had scented danger on the wind, even though Lucan had kept to the shadows, trailing his quarry unseen. The guy had been twitchy, anxious. He'd drawn a handgun halfway down the narrow street, and while bullet wounds were seldom fatal to Lucan's kind - unless you were talking a head shot, delivered at pointblank range - he wasn't sure his compromised, recovering body would be able to absorb the impact of a further injury today.
Not to mention the fact that it just would have pissed him off, and he was already in a seriously foul mood.
So, when the ring of the cell phone sent the dealer into a startled left-right-left spin as he tried to determine the source of the noise behind him, Lucan had sprung on him. He had taken the guy down fast, sinking his fangs into the vein in the human's neck, which bulged tautly in that instant before terror forced breath enough through the man's lungs for him to scream.
Blood gushed against his tongue, nasty with the taint of drugs and disease. Lucan choked it down, swallow after swallow, clutching at his convulsing, gasping prey without mercy. He would kill this one, and he wouldn't care less. All that mattered was feeding the hunger. Assuaging the pain of his mending body.
Lucan fed quickly, drinking his fill.
More than his fill.
He nearly drained the dealer, and still he was ravenous. But it would be pushing it to feed any more than he already had tonight. Better to give this nourishment a chance to take hold before he risked getting greedy, and taking a tailspin toward Bloodlust.
Lucan stared with scorn at the phone ringing in his hand, knowing he ought to just let the damned thing go unanswered.
It kept on, insistent, and in the second before it cut off, he picked up. He said nothing at first, just listened as the soft sound of Gabrielle's exhale blew across the receiver. Her breath shook a little, but her voice was strong, despite the fact that she was obviously pretty upset.
"You've been lying to me," she said by way of greeting. "How long, Lucan? About how much? Everything?"
Lucan took in the lifeless body of his prey with contempt. He crouched low, making a quick search of the greasy lowlife. He found a rubber-banded wad of cash, which he would leave for the street vultures to fight over. The dealer's party favors - a couple grand worth of crack and he**in - would take a bath down one of the city's sewer drains.
"Where are you?" he barked into the cell phone, thinking no more of the predator he'd eliminated. "Where's Gideon?"
"Aren't you even going to try to deny it? Why would you do something like this?"
"Put him on the phone, Gabrielle."
She ignored his demand. "There's another thing I'd like to know: how did you get into my apartment last night? I had all the locks set, including the chain. What did you do, pick them somehow? Did you steal my keys when I wasn't looking and have another set made?"