“What Burnett doesn’t know won’t kill him,” she answered.
“But you want to ask him about moving your curfew. How does that make sense?”
“He’d know I stayed out late,” she said, pointing out the difference. “He doesn’t have to know—”
“I still think he’ll have a shit fit about me keeping you out late and he’s going to say no.”
“A shit fit never killed anyone. And we won’t know until we ask.”
“Which brings me back to my point,” he said. “Let’s ask him about you meeting the Vampire Council.”
“No,” she said.
Chase’s brows tightened, and a thin line—a worry line, perhaps—appeared between his eyes. She got the distinct feeling that it wasn’t just Burnett who didn’t approve of her meeting the Vampire Council. Was there a reason Chase didn’t want her meeting them?
Could it be because she was right? Her uncle was part of the organization? Her uncle, whom she believed murdered her aunt?
And Chase knew it.
She recalled her pinkie promise to Miranda. To discover if Chase was more of a toad or a prince. Right now, the Panty Perv was looking more and more like he ate grasshoppers for supper.
* * *
Burnett handed them a picture of Liam Jones. “He’s a good kid. No criminal history. Was going to college to be an engineer. He’s part African-American and part white. He lived with his mother.”
Della looked at the image, and while it had been too dark to see his face in the vision she’d had, she somehow knew this was the right Liam.
Chase stared at the image, and Della could tell he felt it, too. This was their Liam. He looked up at Burnett. “By the way, we’ll need a later curfew tonight.”
Burnett’s expression hardened. “How late?”
“As late as it takes,” Chase said, looking back at the image. She could tell he almost felt a bond with Liam. Not that she could blame him, she sort of felt one toward Natasha as well. Feeling as if you were in their skin, in their head, sort of did that to you.
“We’ll be fine,” Della added. “You know we can take care of ourselves.”
“Being stronger and faster doesn’t make you invincible.” Oh, boy, Della had heard that one about a hundred times since she’d been Reborn.
“It almost does,” Chase argued.
Della inwardly cringed. That wasn’t the right thing to say. She cut Chase a look of warning.
“And that tells me why I can’t trust you.”
“Do you want us to look for Liam or not?” Chase asked.
Burnett contemplated it for a few long, silent seconds. But he wasn’t going to stay silent long. He never did.
“Yes,” he said, firmly, “but I’ll assign another agent to accompany you for that portion of the evening.”
Chase leaned forward. “I hate to argue with you, but I did some checking. There’s a couple of supernatural gangs that hang out around there. Young, teen gangs. We don’t need some old fart hanging out with us. They’ll blow our cover right off the bat.”
Burnett’s eyes got brighter. “I’ll go myself.”
“And my point remains the same.” Chase crossed his arms over his chest.
Holy shit! Had Chase just called Burnett an old fart?
Della held her breath, afraid Burnett would call off the whole mission.
Burnett’s eyes brightened and she saw him clamp his jaw shut as if to keep from going bonkers on Chase’s ass. “I’ll send a younger agent.”
Chase exhaled. “We really don’t—”
“I. Will. Send. A. Younger. Agent.” Burnett’s dark and very loud voice left it clear that it wasn’t up for debate.
When Chase settled back in his chair, Burnett continued, in a more normal voice. “I’ll call with details when I have them.”
“Fine.” Chase rose and started out. Della got just out of the office and looked back at the still-pissed Burnett. She let Chase get out of the front door and then she stuck her head back in the door. “I don’t think you look like an old fart. He hasn’t ever seen you without your shirt.”
“Thank you,” he said. “I think.” He stood up. “Be careful. And watch him, he might be even more of a wild card than you.”
“I will.”
* * *
A radio was on inside the Owen house. But again, it appeared as if no one was home. Or someone inside was sleeping with such low breathing they couldn’t pick it up. Della took in a noseful of air. She had to bypass Chase’s clean scent to see if she could pick up any traces of human.
It was there. “I smell…”
“I know, but I smelled it yesterday, too,” Chase said. “They probably have a workout room and it’s filled with sweat. Haven’t you ever been to a human gym? The smell is almost overpowering.”
Della hadn’t been in a gym since she’d become vampire. Cutting him a look, she wondered why he would go to the gym. The machinery wasn’t strong enough to offer a vampire a real workout. Then she remembered why most guys go to gyms: to meet hot girls.
She gave the door a good hard knock again. They stood another couple of minutes at the kelly green front door with no answer. Della reached back and twisted her ponytail, the hair band from the Camaro’s glove compartment again.
On the drive here, Chase had tried to start a conversation, but she’d avoided it. She was still stuck on the possibility that Chase might actually know her uncle.
“We have choices,” Chase said and took a few steps back to look up.
“What kind of choices?” Della asked, fighting off the wave of disappointment as well as the overwhelming sadness—the same one she’d felt when they’d been here yesterday. Was it the home? Or was it the ghost?
“We could go inside and see if we find any pictures that might tell us for sure if Natasha Owens is our girl.”
“I think that’s called breaking and entering,” Della said.
“Just entering,” he said. “I saw an upstairs window that’s open. And we’d hear if a car pulled up.”
She considered Burnett’s parting words about Chase being a wild card. But the temptation lingered.
“It’s not as if we’re going to steal anything,” he added.
She backed up and looked up at the second-story window, raised a good four inches. Oh, hell, what was the worst that could happen?