Flameout by Keri Arthur Page B

right now?
    Once again instinct was suggesting the latter, and, if that was right, it wasn’t good news. The last thingwe needed was another competitor throwing his hat into an already overcrowded ring.
    â€œIf you were in such close contact with Rosen, why are you seeking the notes?” Jackson said. “I would have thought you’d already have a copy of them.”
    â€œNo, because as a recent arrival in this town, I’d been wary of stepping on too many toes until I’d established a base. And that meant, by necessity, not showing too much interest in Rosen, given the rats already had their claws in him.” He flashed a smile that held very little in the way of warmth and civility. “Of course, now that I
am
established, I can lay my cards on the table and start pursuing my interests.”
    â€œI’m betting the sindicati won’t be pleased about
that
decision.” Nor PIT—although they undoubtedly knew about him, as I’d given Sam the photo I’d taken of Heaton after I’d fled from him at Chase.
    â€œOh, I’m betting you’re right. Now, back to the matter at hand . . .” Heaton paused, and his gaze swept my length. There was something very unclean about its touch, and distaste crawled through me. “Where are the research notes Baltimore gave you to type up before he was murdered?”
    â€œPIT has one of the notebooks. One of the sindicati factions has the rest of them.” My smile was brief and cold. “And who said Baltimore was actually dead?”
    Heaton raised an eyebrow. “The coroner I interviewed just after his death.”
    â€œYeah, well, you might want to revisit him. Baltimore walked out of the morgue a few days ago.”
    â€œHe undertook the vampire ceremony?”
    â€œ
That
is entirely unclear.”
    â€œMeaning he could also be infected.” The elevator doors began to beep. Heaton leaned a shoulder against them and crossed his arms. A second later, Frank rose, pulled out his keys, and locked the doors open. There was no animation in his face, no life in his eyes. I shivered.
    â€œIf you want those notes,” Jackson growled, “then go have a chat to the sindicati and the cloaks. In fact, please
do
go speak to the cloaks.”
    Heaton smiled, but again there was little in the way of humor or warmth in it. Another chill ran through me. I really,
really
wanted to cinder this vampire—so much so that flames burned through my veins and it was taking every ounce of control to not only hold them back but prevent my skin from glowing. I had no doubt Heaton would make good on his promise if that happened.
    â€œOh,” he drawled. “I have no intention of revealing my presence to either party at the moment.”
    â€œThe cloaks appear to have a source within PIT,” I said, unable to keep the slight hint of satisfaction from my voice.
Anything
that inhibited this vampire’s plans—whatever the hell his plans were—could only be a good thing. “And given your previously mentioned appearance on our security tapes,
that
horse might well and truly have bolted.”
    â€œWhich would be unfortunate, but not as disastrous as you are apparently hoping.”
    â€œPity.” I crossed my arms, hiding fingers that were beginning to glow. I was a creature of fire, and sometimes instinct got the better of control. “You didn’t risk coming here just to ask about those notes, Heaton. What else do you want?”
    â€œRest assured I’m after nothing more than what I have already stated.” He paused, and something very dark and even more dangerous stepped into his gaze. I’d seen such a glint once before, and it had been in the eyes of a very old, very
insane
vampire. Heaton obviously wasn’t insane, but old? Yeah, he was that. “At least that is the case for the moment.”
    I really, really didn’t want to know what else he might want.