“It’s almost eleven. Where is everyone?”
The scratchy voice comes from the crowd, instantly grating on my nerves. The man sounds as if he’s swallowed sandpaper and dust.
“They’ll be here,” someone says in answer. His voice is deeper, almost hollow-sounding. “They won’t disobey their Alpha. What are you so nervous about, anyway? This will be easy. Pick up the goods and get out.”
I slide my gaze over the crowd, and scan every being inside Wolfie’s until I find the source. I have the uncanny ability of listening to multiple conversations at once, even over the loud music.
Two men stand to the right of the stage, untouched drinks in their bony hands. I mentally christen them Scratchy and Hollow because of their odd—almost demonic in tone—voices. Their clothing is clean, but old and torn. I inhale but detect no scent coming from the men. Strange. Both wear trucker-style baseball caps pulled low on their heads to cover their eyes and shadow their faces. I can’t tell exactly what they were, but I know for certain they aren’t human.
“The huntress is right there, man. It was stupid to pick her place.” Thin lips turn down into a deep frown until Scratchy’s mouth reminds me of a horseshoe.
“They know how to be discreet. You need to chill.” Hollow tilts his head toward Josie. “She won’t see anything.”
Maybe not, but I will.
They back away from the stage. I track them as they worm their way through the massive crowd to the back of the bar. My calf aches from beating the bass drum so hard. In my mind, I’m kicking the two men against the wall until they give me the information I need.
Josie tosses me a quick look over her shoulder. Her brows are drawn in concern. I nod, smile, and ease up on slaughtering my drum set.
“I can’t do this,” says Scratchy, the smaller of the two men. He shoves Hollow out of his path with shaky hands. “I’m out of here.”
“I won’t do it alone,” Hollow whispers, a hint of evil tainting his deep voice. “This is gonna cost us.”
Scratchy shakes his head. “Don’t care about the money. I’d rather live.”
They retreat out the back door. They’re worried somebody, maybe even Josie, will kill them. Good. I watch the door. They don’t return. The goods they’re talking about could be anything. Current situation being what it is, my mind leans in the direction of drugs. In my experience, Alpha equals shifter. I’m certain some form of shifter will make an appearance any minute now. Can’t wait to get a little personal time with him. Until then, I’ll focus on Josie.
She hits a high note, then slides down the scale effortlessly. While her vocal range is impressive, I prefer her alto voice. There is something special about the full, yet raspy quality that sucks me in. How I continue to play drums while my mind reels scenario after sexual scenario, I have no idea. Josie’s voice turns me on more than seeing her naked, and that is a sight to behold.
All those curves, all that delicious body, just for me. Josie isn’t one to pour her heart out, but I know she belongs to me, even if she isn’t ready to admit—and commit—to the whole mate thing. She will always be mine.
I kick the bass drum harder and beat my sticks in a rolling pattern across the tom toms.
Josie told me once that she needs me. She’d also thought she was about to die. One day, she will tell me again, maybe add in the word love, without the threat of death looming over her head. Until then… I hope my patience will last. The alternative isn’t appealing.
The song ends, and though the crowd begs her to sing another, Josie takes a bow.
“Come here, Josephine.”
She turns, lifts a brow.
I stand. “Come here.”
Biting her lower lip, she walks to me. I reach out and cradle the back of her neck. I apply a bit of pressure until she leans forward. I place the softest of kisses on her full lips. Nothing obscene. Nothing over the top. The humans cheer. I don’t care. This isn’t a show for them. Part of me does it for pleasure. Mainly, I do it to let all the members of the occult in attendance know that if they mess with Josie, they mess with me. Word will spread fast. You are amazing. Watch yourself. The night is getting interesting.
I sense it, too. Josie smiles against my mouth, then turns and takes another bow, purposely wiggling her ass for my benefit.
She hops off the stage and high-fives about a hundred people. Josie excels when it comes to leaving people wanting more. Me included.
Matthew calls out the next song. I scan the crowd. The troll gets up and leaves, taking two bolloxed women with him. Just goes to prove that alcohol can turn even an ugly troll into a bedmate for two. The phoenix lingers by the stage, sizing up Alex with her fiery gaze. Alex does his best to ignore her. If a vampire plays with a phoenix, he might as well tie himself to a lamppost and wait for the sun to rise. Same end result.
I shake my head, laugh to myself, and go straight back into security mode as four shifters step through the door. Following them is a pair of twin warlocks sporting cowboy hats. Josie would call them posers. I glance at her now. She’s already spotted them.
Luc, Alex, Grant and Matthew feel the growing tension and move to put down their instruments. I pick up my sticks, twirl them through my fingers and kick off another song with a loud “One. Two. Three. Four,” before a brawl breaks out. Apparently all the lore creatures are planning to come to Wolfie’s tonight. Why? I doubt I’ll get an answer. I also doubt the pixies will make an appearance.
That matters not. They’ll get what’s coming to them. I will see to that. It will be interesting to see what the shifters do once they realize their flunkies have fled the scene.
Chapter Thirteen
Josie
It’s about one in the morning by the time Keller and I leave Wolfie’s. The shifters and warlocks had left in less than ten minutes. They had walked through the bar as if they owned the place, chests puffed like they were inflated with helium. They didn’t speak. They didn’t drink. Apparently, whatever they had come for hadn’t been there. I’m just thankful no one had caused a scene. One wrong move on their part, and I would have introduced them to my shiny friends. Would have been a big mess to clean up. Any more cops and Wolfie’s would get a bad reputation.
Crimson Beat had finished playing around midnight, but part of the gig is mingling afterward, and tonight’s crowd was full of women vying for the vampires’ attention. Bands always get groupies, but this was ridiculous. Vampire charisma in full effect, yo.
I often wonder how many of these lovely ladies would run screaming if the truth walked up and bit them in the neck, and conversely, how many would fall in line to be the next flavor on the sampler platter. I have a feeling the boys here would be very satiated within an hour. Didn’t hurt that Alex had donned a black cowboy hat about halfway through the last set. There sure is something kinda sexy about a chocolate cowboy.
After the meet and greet, we held a quick conference with the Team to divvy out tonight’s instructions, and to gear up—my favorite part. Most of the Team fights without weapons of the man-made variety. Matthew is the recent exception. Ever since I let him borrow my twelve-inch a couple of weeks ago, he’s made sure to try something new every night. To him, my blades are like one of those assorted boxes of candy. You’ve got to try them all until you find your favorite. Once you do, the others are forever left in the box.
Matthew stands in front of my weapon cabinet like a boy eyeing the puppies at the local shelter. He’s wearing his blond hair in a faux hawk style. His flannel shirt had been discarded and thrown to his fans in the third set, leaving him dressed in a white wife-beater and loose-fitting jeans. Some female will be snuggling up with his shirt tonight.
Matthew says he prefers fighting with the knives now because it’s something different. Using his body all the time got boring. Secretly, I know this actually has something to do with his past, though I haven’t learned the details yet. When you work with vampires, there are a lot of hush-hush topics.
Me? I don�
�t have a favorite blade. Like a mama loves her children, I love all my shinies equally. Although my machete does hold a very special place in my heart. Matthew is dying to try it out. If he can come up with a way to conceal that wicked bad boy, I’ll gladly loan it to him.
Our little group fans out. We like to fight in pairs, but it doesn’t always work out that way, especially with the number of incidents we’ve had this week alone. Something big is brewing in the air. The amount of lore packed into Wolfie’s tonight proves it.
Alex and Matthew go south, Grant goes east, and Lucian takes the west side of town. Keller had given everyone a description of the two men he’d heard inside the bar, with orders to bring them in if spotted. I’d like to know exactly who they were supposed to meet. As Keller and I head north, a long streak of lightning lights up the dark sky, and is quickly followed by a rumble of thunder reminiscent of a pack of roaring lions. The night feels heavy with impending rain, and carries with it the scent of sweaty bodies. The air conditioner inside Wolfie’s conked out again as of about an hour ago. So much for Wes’s mad handyman skills. I should have known better. At this point, the rain is welcome, but probably won’t roll in for another hour or so, according to the local forecast.
A man with long, graying hair and wearing a vibrant Hawaiian-style shirt is passing out fliers for the newest club in town. I smile, take one, and fan my face with it, but the sweat continues to bead on my upper lip and trickle down my spine. So much for the clean pair of clothes I’d put on before leaving Wolfie’s. Another ten minutes and this shirt will be as wet as the one I just took off.
Keller grabs my hand and pulls me across the street. The crosswalk light is flashing a big fat orange X. Horns beep and a cabby yells. Whatever Keller’s mission is, he’s not deterred in the least by the protests. Two blocks down, we stop abruptly outside an ice cream shop. My mouth waters. “What gives?” I ask him as my gaze bounces from his to the shop and back. I lick my lips, but instead of tasting ice cream, I taste salt.
Grazing my cheek with his thumb, Keller asks, “May I treat you to some dessert, my lady?”
I grin like a smitten kitten. “God, yes.” Before he can say another word, I tug him through the door. A bell rings overhead, announcing our arrival. Unlike Wolfie’s, the air conditioning unit in here is working just fine. I let the cool air wash over me as I throw away the crumpled flyer.
Apparently, ice cream in no way compares to liquor and bar food on a Friday night. This place is as empty as a church on Monday, aside from the teenager behind the counter. She smiles cheerfully and smoothes her striped apron, obviously thrilled to have something to do. Or… I realize she’s staring at Keller. I remember the first time I laid eyes on him. I might have drooled a little, too. I masked it well, though.
“Hi,” she says, waving so hard her blonde hair bounces like springs on a trampoline.
Considering her age, I’m surprised she’s working this late, but then again, I was killing nasties by the time I was ten years old. Serving ice cream can’t possibly top that on the danger scale. Unless you count frostbite as a serious job hazard. I laugh to myself.
“What’s so funny?”
“Frostbite,” I tell him with a shrug.
“Of course. I should have known.” Keller pulls out a chair. “Have a seat.”
“I don’t think there’s a waitress.”
Keller bows like a gentleman born in the nineteenth century, which he is, and I get a flash of what he must have been like so many years ago. “I’ll be ordering for you.”
I shake my head at his theatrics. “Will you now? You don’t even know what I want. Besides, you’ll make the girl faint.”
Keller shoves his hands in his pockets and lifts an eyebrow.
“Fine,” I say. “Surprise me.” I point a finger at him and give my I’m-like-totally-like-serious stare. “And don’t cheat.” I usually don’t like surprises. Tonight is different. It’s almost as if Keller and I are on a real date rather than headed out to hunt down the baddies of the night. I honestly don’t think we’ve ever been on an actual date. How sad is that? What’s even more sad is that I’m growing suspicious.
Keller smirks.
I do my best to think of anything but my favorite flavor of ice cream, even though I’m craving it desperately. I don’t know if he’ll cheat or not, but I’m not taking any chances. Butter Pecan. Chocolate. Strawberry. Mint Chocolate Chip.
My vampire barks out a laugh and shakes his head. He heads to the counter, and after admiring the way he looks in his jeans, I turn to stare out the window. People pass by wearing everything from flip-flops to stilettos. A blind man plays the trumpet and someone bends to drop a couple of bucks into his instrument case. The trumpet player can’t see them, but he nods his head, knowing. I close my eyes and enjoy the jazzy tune. It’s got a lot of bounce. I tap my foot against the tile. He hits an occasional bad note that only adds to the honesty of the moment. He is a man lost in the music. I am a girl lost in her city.
“You’re not lost.”
I swivel in my chair. Keller is right next to me, looking at me with such intensity swimming in his eyes, my heart jerks. He’s a summer storm, coming out of nowhere and taking my breath away—every single time I gaze into his dark eyes.
He offers me a small cone with soft-serve vanilla spiraling atop like a tornado. My favorite. As complicated as I am, my taste in ice cream is as basic as it comes. This simple gesture makes it hard for me to swallow. When everything around me is crazy and out of control, Keller manages to bring it in close—to show me we must stop and take these moments to enjoy life—to enjoy each other. Without them, we’ll all become insane. We’ll all be lost.
I wrap my hand around his and bring the ice cream to my lips. I take a tentative lick. It’s as delicious as it looks, sweet, smooth, and cool like Keller’s kiss. He groans, and I know exactly what he’s thinking without even having to break through the walls around his mind. If we had more time… If we were closer to home…
He passes off the cone and moves to take the seat across from me. I continue to eat my icy dessert, and Keller seems content watching me. His t-shirt stretches across his chest, giving just a hint to the muscle beneath. I know every inch of his skin on a very personal level. As good as this ice cream is, I’ll never crave anything as much as I crave this man.
“Any idea how to find a pixie who doesn’t want to be found?” I ask between licks. I’ve got to remain focused. Work and then play, Hawk.
He blinks and it’s all business. “You certain that’s who we should be tracking?”
“As of right now, yes.” I glance at the girl behind the counter. She’s wiping down the glass coolers and paying us no mind. Still, I lower my voice. I tell Keller everything that’s happened thus far, from the note to the shifter to my conversation with Bruce and Baldy. By the end, Keller’s eyes have lost all the fire I stirred up with my ice cream cone. They are as black as ice on asphalt. Keller is furious on my behalf. Not to mention Wolfie’s also belongs to his sister. Mess with our bar, and you’re messing with his woman and his family. Doesn’t bode well for the pixie nation, and I can’t help but smile about that. I feel like sticking out my tongue and blowing a raspberry at Esmeralda. My fanged man is about to go crazy on her winged ass.
“I’m hoping to hear back from Hector sometime tomorrow,” I continue. “But I can’t just sit around and wait for Esmeralda to come back and taunt me.”
“I agree.” His brow creases. “You know, if I hadn’t escorted Cross out of town personally, I’d swear this was his doing. Pixies are wily, but this isn’t really in their nature. They’re into pranks and fun. I’ve never heard of one intentionally causing harm.”
I have. Not to this degree, but like every other species, pixies have black sheep, too.
Keller has a point, though, and one that’s already crossed my mind more than once. “I was thinking the exact same thing. This Pixie Dust crap has Cross’s name written all over it.” Cross sure as hell be
tter not be anywhere near Nashville. “Would you sense it if he were back?”
Vampires are all tied together, one way or another, whether they share a sire or not. I’m sure Keller has a pretty good idea of exactly how many are mingling with the humans on the streets tonight. As long as they don’t cross the line—meaning kill or maim their food source—they are safe from our wrath. It’s one of those make-love-not-war things.
Cross is the oldest vampire I’ve ever known. He’s strong, off-the-charts sexy, and lethal as they come. He makes no qualms about hurting the innocents. Everything he does is for power and money. He’s pissed off that we kicked him out of Nashville. Doesn’t matter that we did it in the name of the Assembly. Making Cross look bad is akin to poking the devil with his own flaming pitchfork.
“Maybe. Maybe not. I had Luc go down there and check in on him.”
I knew something was up. I feel the ice cream dripping down my hand. “Why didn’t you tell me?” My skin is heating up, and I’m not sure if it’s from elevated blood pressure or embarrassment that I hadn’t thought to send someone to check on Cross.
“I’m telling you now.”
I grab a napkin and clean my hands. I decide arguing, while easier and self-satisfying, is not the best plan of attack here. “And? Is he there?’
Keller nods. “He is. Doesn’t mean he won’t come back.” He leans forward. One wrinkle creases his forehead. “If he does, I’m sure he’ll have his mental shields up. If he drops them for even a second, I’ll know.”
Then what? Last time we fought Cross, I was nearly eaten alive. If he is back, I know he’ll be more prepared this time. “But so far nothing?”
I actually miss Cross on a professional level, and that makes as much sense as a lunatic in politics. Going up against him is the equivalent of a really good chess match. Even though I hate what he stands for, I enjoy the challenge that always comes with dealing with him and his cronies. I’ll get over it. Nashville is a much safer place without him, and that’s what counts. Assuming he’s really gone forever.
Dark Secrets: A Paranormal Romance Anthology Page 138
