The Prof Croft Series: Books 0-4 (Prof Croft Box Sets Book 1) by Brad Magnarella (best business books of all time txt) 📕

card in front of him. “If you decide you know anything about those murders, you give us a call.”

I stepped up beside Vega and aimed a finger at him. “And if we find our killer and she has little puncture scars across the top of her foot, we’ll be making some calls to the Financial District.”

“I’m telling you, I don’t turn them into anything.”

“We’ll see,” I said.

“I don’t!” he called at our backs as we left his office.

16

“A vampire,” Vega mused as we drove south.

“Yeah, they’re rare outside the Financial District,” I said. “The banking class doesn’t like having attention drawn to their kind—I wasn’t lying to Sonny about that. Rogue vampires who get too homicidal get taken out pretty quick. Sonny knows this, which tells me he probably has been playing by their rules all these years. Snacking from his dancers’ feet could well be the extent of his vampiric activities.” I grimaced at the thought.

“So why did Arnaud send us to him?”

I was still trying to wrap my head around that one. I understood how a creature like Sonny would make the false lead appear more compelling, but a niggling feeling in the back of my brain told me Arnaud was trying to accomplish something more.

“I don’t know,” I admitted. “But I think it’s worth getting a list of all the women who have worked for Sonny. Track them down.”

“Three decades’ worth?” Vega hit me with a hard stare. “Do you know how long that would take?”

“I know, but—”

“We’ve got two nights, Croft. Not two years.”

“Maybe we’ll get lucky,” I suggested.

Vega’s phone rang before she could voice the irritation on her face. “Yeah,” she said, then listened. “Be right there.” The engine hit another octave as she depressed the accelerator.

“What’s up?” I asked.

“Hoffman’s got the plans for the Towers at the office. He says he found a way the perp might have gotten in and out. Would you mind coming? If we have something we can act on, we’re going to need to start planning. I don’t know anything about taking down a blood slave.”

What I really wanted to do was get back uptown to Seventieth Street and put eyes on the fae townhouse. But with Vega desperate for results in the face of a looming gang war, I knew leaving her was putting her son at risk. And if she tried to take on the creature alone…

I nodded. “Yeah, I’ll go.”

“Storm drains,” Hoffman said, pointing them out on the blueprint he’d unrolled across Vega’s desk. “A system runs directly underneath the towers. And right here’s an access point, in the boiler room.”

I remembered the rusty grate. “The pipe looked too small for a person.”

“For you or me, maybe,” Hoffman said, “but it’s a foot and a half in diameter. Someone slender could’ve shimmied up it. And look.” He unrolled another blueprint, angling it toward Vega. “After getting the plans from the Housing Authority, I went down to Environmental Protection, got a map of the storm lines in a sixteen-block radius.”

I craned my neck to look over the gray paper and network of blue lines.

“Someone wanting to access the drain would’ve had a few choices,” he said, tapping some entry points.

Vega’s gaze rose from the map to my face. “What are we going to need?”

“Are you sure this is something you should be rushing into?” I asked.

“Who’s this guy think he is?” Hoffman growled.

Vega moved her fists to her hips. I pretended to study the map, racking my brain for anything that would steer the investigation away from Ferguson Towers.

“Croft,” she said.

“Have you ever been down a storm drain?” I asked, working out my argument as I spoke. “I did once when I was a kid, on a dare. They’re confined, confusing. They take sounds and amplify them, bouncing them every which way. And a lot of stretches involve wading through water, some of it up to here.” I placed a hand at thigh level. “My magic doesn’t play so well with water. And with a blood slave’s speed and strength, we’d be sitting ducks. As your consultant, I’m advising against it.”

“You’re still talking about blood slaves?” Hoffman asked, incredulous.

“We’re going down.” Vega’s eyes remained hard as tacks. “Now tell us what we need.”

She wasn’t going to back off, and I couldn’t warn her about the threat against her son. Arnaud’s rules. I sighed and dragged a hand through my hair. “Silver bullets, for starters.”

“And where can we get those?” she asked.

“I know someone, but I don’t know what he has in stock. It might take a day or two.”

“We both use standard nine-millimeter rounds,” Vega said. “We can change weapons to accommodate the ammo, if needed. Find out what he can supply us now—not in one or two days. You can use my phone.”

“Um, I’m not sure he has a number.”

“What in the hell is this, Croft?” Vega demanded.

“What?”

“Every time something comes up that might advance the investigation, you start squirming.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

Anger sprung from my smoldering bed of guilt. “Look, whether you like it or not, part of my role as your consultant is keeping you safe from the horrors out there. I’m doing the job you’re paying me for.”

Hoffman snorted. “I’ll tell you what’s going on,” he said to Vega. “Gandalf here knows we’re about to find out there ain’t no blood slave, or whatever he calls them, so he’s milking us for as many hours as he can bill us for. Told you the man was a freaking hustler.”

Vega’s eyes didn’t move from mine. “Do I need to drop you from the case?”

I held her gaze, the corner of my mouth trembling with emotion. In my mind, I was saying, Fine, screw it. Go off and do whatever you want. Get yourselves killed. I don’t need this. But that was the stress talking. I took a deep breath and dropped my gaze back to the map.

“Fine,” I said, holding up a hand. “I’ll