A tired sigh left those full kissable lips. "I need this kill, Mr. Green." His gaze met hers. "It's the first time I've been allowed to hunt on my own. Overprotective brothers," she explained and rolled her eyes.
Splendid, another few things he had to worry about – hotheaded brothers.
"I know it's none of your concern," she said, "but I just wanted you to know where I stood on this. I'm taking this vamp down with or without your help. So tell me now if you have the stomach for this? It could get brutal."
Not that he went around slaying his own kind, but why did she doubt his ability to follow through? Did he look like a pansy arse to her?
Her soft chuckle had him staring at her with confusion. "Oh you should see your face, Mr. Green."
"I fail to see the humor," he grumbled.
"You're wondering why I doubt your capabilities."
Of course she hit it right on the nose on the first go around. "It crossed my mind," he said.
"Don't be miffed. I haven't got much to go on with you – other than, you were transferred to the States due to an incident with your last case overseas."
Just his luck. He'd taken on the identity of a man who was a screw up with not only his personal life, but with his work as well.
"Hmm..." Her eyes did a casual sweep of him as she leaned forward on the bar. "You appear strong enough." She pinched his biceps like she was checking to see if he were ripe for the picking. "Wow, impressive. You do work out, don't you?" She met his gaze then.
Did she expect him to answer? But then she continued her one sided conversation.
"So you wouldn't have difficulty taking down a target." Her gaze slid over him once more and he wasn't sure if he liked the way she eyed him. Now that she knew the brawn hadn't gotten him demoted to the States, her mind shifted to a new possibility. She thought he lacked smarts. Oh she didn't say it in so many words, but her lovely green eyes didn't hide her lack of confidence in him.
He stood to his full height. "I am not an imbecile, Miss Hayes."
Her eyes widened in surprise. "I never said you were."
"No? 'Cause your expression says otherwise."
She chuckled. Was she laughing at him now? "I apologize. So enlighten me. What went wrong with your last job in the UK?"
Lovely. Now he needed to come up with a plausible story from what Bram had told him. Maybe he should have let her believe him an imbecile. Then he knew what would appease her. "It had nothing to do with the case per se."
"No?" She leaned her elbow on the counter and rested her chin on the palm of her hand as if settling in for a grand story.
So be it. He knew how to spin a yarn. His sept told stories around campfires, long before television and the internet were available to occupy the populace. "I had a dalliance with my superior's daughter." He did like how that tidbit wiped the smirk off her face. "My superior took offence," he added with a shrug and allowed her to fill in the blanks.
"I see." She lowered her hand and sat up straighter in her seat. "Then I do hope while you're on this case, you can keep it in your pants, Mr. Green."
From the far end of the bar, he heard Bram cough to hide his chortle. If he kept it up, the patrons would believe he was coming down with something contagious.
"I assure you, Miss Hayes, I can control my urges." His gaze did a casual slide as he admired her attributes with meaning. "Aye, there should be no trouble at all." If her flushed face proved an indication, then he'd made his point even if it was a boldface lie.
"Good," she said. "Fine," she added with a clipped tone. "Then we'll get along, wonderfully." She cleared her throat. "I'll take an apple ale."
"Pardon me?"
"Apple ale." She nodded toward the glass bottles behind him. "I'll sit at one of the tables near the wall. If you spot the vamp we're looking for, just have one of your waiters send me another apple ale and I'll know."
"Then what?" He wanted to be privy to her plan, even if this was all pretend. He had no idea who they were looking for, and if he did, he couldn't allow her to stake a vamp in his pub.
"I'll follow him and see where he goes," she said.
"No stake and dust?" His brows lifted.
"Well, yeah, later. Three men have been found. All drained of blood. Three," she repeated. He needs to be put down."
Like a rabid animal, Tremayne thought to himself. But make that four people the vamp has taken down if they were going to count the real Mr. Green, but he kept the tidbit to himself. He reached for the ale on the back shelf below the painting framed in gold. "I'll keep my eyes open," he told her.
"Nice mermaid painting," she said with an incline of her head.
"Thanks, it's a Lamia, more like a serpentine water creature than simply an aquatic shifter like a mermaid. Though both can be lethal. Painting came with the pub," he added. He opened the bottle top with the handy topper opener he installed next to the taps. He placed the bottle in front of her.
"A Lamia…interesting." She took a sip from the bottle. "This is good." She rose from her seat, and then sauntered over to one of the tables near the wall where she'd have a perfect view of who entered and left the pub. She looked as inconspicuous as any hunter would in an establishment filled with preternatural beings.
"Hey, can we get some service here," Bram raised his voice to be heard and waved his empty glass in front of him.
Tremayne headed over. "Will you give it a rest?" he hissed, then glanced at Sheerin who appeared to be having a difficult time wiping the grin off his face as he wrote in his notebook.
Bram chuckled. "I'm glad you took care of the hunter. You know...offering her a drink and having her take up residence. Great plan, Mr. Green."
"Put a cork in it," he told Bram, but his demand only made his cousin laugh all the more.
Chapter Four
Cassandra sipped her ale as she eyed the patrons that were enjoying their night out at the pub. The band set up their equipment in the corner where the tables had been rearranged around the makeshift stage. She had to admit the ambience of the place suited her. Too bad she wasn't here to kick back and enjoy herself. Maybe after the case was closed, she would.
She chanced a look at Mr. Green or rather Tremayne Greer. He wasn't what she expected. She'd only spoken to him twice on the phone. The first time she would have sworn he'd been drunk. The guy manning the bar spoke with confidence, not a bumbling fool she'd believed Mr. Green to be.
Tremayne joked with the patrons with ease, and man-oh-man he was easy on the eyes. Thick dark hair, gorgeous blue eyes, and when he smiled, one dimple winked back.
Her gaze slid over him or rather what she could see of him standing behind the counter. And she liked what she saw – muscled arms, wide chest, tapered waist. She'd bet the rest of him looked pretty darn snazzy, too. She took another sip of her drink and realized it was empty. She needed to pace herself.
It would take more than one bottle of ale to make her tipsy. Heck, she'd been known to drink her brothers under the table, but she was on duty. She needed to keep a sharp lookout, but she couldn't sit at the table all alone and without a drink in front of her. She stood and headed back to the bar.
Tremayne noticed her approach and made a point to meet her as she sat down on the stool. "Need another apple ale?" he asked, his head inclining toward the empty bottle.
"Let's go with a ginger ale this time," she kept her voice low, so not to be overheard.
"Smart move." He tapped the side of his nose and winked. "The coloring will surely pass as a drink, and no one will be the wiser."
Was he making fun of her? "You'll be glad I'm sober if I have to save your pretty behind."
His lips curved. "Have you been checking out my behind, Miss Hayes?"
This made her chuckle. "Just get me the drink."
He poured the ginger ale into a clear glass and slid it over to her. He leaned on the counter, his face inches from hers. The man was far too good-looking and she wished he'd back up just a tad, and give her some more b
reathing space or… maybe he should just kiss her. She frowned, wondering where that thought had come from.
"Is something amiss?" He asked and his right eyebrow tilted up a fraction of an inch. "Do I have bad breath?" He covered his mouth with his hand and blew into his palm. "Nope, minty fresh." He flashed her a smile and that cute as ever dimple appeared.
She cleared her throat. "It's not you." No, it was entirely her problem that her libido had decided to go wonky and all because she was talking to a good-looking man.
She really needed to get out more. She couldn't remember the last time she'd been on a date or better yet, the last time she'd been kissed. Her gaze landed on his mouth. She'd bet this guy knew how to kiss. She forced herself to look away or end up in trouble. Hadn't Mr. Green been shipped out of his country for fooling around with his superior's daughter? She had no desire to be added to the list of his conquests. "Just back up a little, will you?" she said. "Have you not heard of personal space?"
He took a step back and lifted his hands. "I thought you'd like to keep our conversation hushed."
Her gaze met his and she had the distinct feeling she'd offended him. "Sorry. It's not…"
"…you," he finished for her. "Sounds like you're breaking up with me, Miss Hayes. And all before we've kissed."
"W-what?" she asked, and hoped he didn't hear how her voice hitched.
"Hey, bartender?" a blond-haired guy at the end of the bar called to him. He'd been scribbling things down in a notebook all evening. Nerdish in a way, but too attractive to give him the full title. But then again she personally found the nerdy look attractive. "I need a refill," the man said as he lifted his glass.
"If you'll excuse me," Tremayne told her and headed over to the customer.
This gave her the opportunity to recover from Tremayne standing too close and making her forget she shouldn't be interested. "Stay focus," she murmured to herself.
There was barely any standing room in the pub now. The patrons seemed to be migrating toward the stage either to dance or to cheer on the band. She eyed the group, which consisted of a guitar player with enough piercings to set off the alarms at an airport check point; a bass player, who sported interesting tattoo sleeves; and a long-haired drummer, who seemed to have caught a group of college girls' eyes. She rather enjoyed the ballad with the rock and roll flare to it. Not too bad, she thought as she sipped her ginger ale.
Her gaze shifted to a guy loitering near the bandstand, a strange guy in her way of thinking. He licked his lips as if he'd anticipated a midnight snack near at hand. She sat up straighter in her seat.
"What has your hackles up?"
She turned to find Tremayne standing behind her, and was surprised he had returned without her realizing it.
"The guy near the bandstand," she discreetly inclined her head in the direction. "He's cozying up to the dark-haired Goth chick."
"I have him in my sights," Tremayne said.
"Well? Is he the one?"
"He's not my type." He chuckled. When she rolled her eyes in response, he sobered and cleared his throat. "Sorry, no. He's not the one you're looking for. Though he does look a wee bit squirrelly."
"Exactly my thoughts." She placed her glass down and stood. She didn't take more than a few steps before Tremayne called after her.
"Where are you going?" he asked.
"To catch a squirrel."
Chapter Five
The woman had spunk and determination. Tremayne would give her that. It was difficult to decide which was the prey and which proved the stalker. As much as he would prefer the squirrely Hashasheen demon didn't frequent his bar, he was still a customer and it would be bad for business if Cassandra staked him in front of those having a good time.
He didn't spot a weapon on her as he admired how her form fitting jeans hugged every curve, but he had no doubt the hunter had one stashed somewhere on her person.
She moved in close to the demon and swayed her hips as she encouraged him to dance with her. Of course the demon took her bate. Who wouldn't with the way Cassandra looked and the sway of her hips proved hypnotic. The Hashasheen demon pulled her close, and a low growl escaped Tremayne's lips before he could stop himself. He glanced around to see if anyone noticed his slip up, and breathed a sigh of relief when no one had glanced his way, but then he looked toward his cousins. Bram met his gaze with a raised brow. "Damn," he murmured. Caught.
Where in the heck had his response come from? Cassandra and the demon were dancing – way too close if anyone asked him – but still, they were only dancing.
"You look like you're about to leap over the bar and take the demon out yourself," Bram remarked as he moved closer. "You wouldn't be falling prey to the slayer's charms, would you?"
He threw Bram a lethal glare. "She's either going to get herself killed or cause a panic in the pub. Both of which would be detrimental for business."
"You look jealous to me," Bram insisted. "Doesn't he look right jealous?" He turned toward Sheerin for confirmation.
"Oh, he's smitten, to be sure." Sheerin jotted down something in his notebook.
"What do you write about?" Tremayne barked. He'd asked many times before, but Sheerin's answers were always vague. Not sure why he believed it would be any different now.
His pale eyes met his and his lips slid into a grin. "Oh, this and that. Tonight, it's about a vampire and his attraction to his mortal enemy."
"Cassandra isn't my mortal enemy," he said with a harrumph.
"No?" Sheerin lifted a brow. "She hunts vampires for a living. How is she not an enemy?"
Tremayne waved his cousins off and turned toward the bandstand in search of the hunter, but he didn't see her. A quick scan of the dance floor, then to the back of the room, confirmed Cassandra and the demon had vacated Eternal Bliss. "Where did she go?"
Bram cleared his throat.
"What?" he snapped.
Bram pointed toward the back door. "I believe she and the Hashasheen demon decided to take their little party out back in the alleyway."
"Jaysus," Tremayne cursed as he threw down the towel, he had draped over his shoulder and hurried around the bar toward the back door.
"Three's a crowd, Tremayne," Bram called after him. "I don't think she wants a threesome."
He heard both Sheerin and Bram chuckling at his expense, but he ignored them. He could care less who Cassandra Hayes frolicked with, but he didn't want her death on his conscience.
Besides, this was his territory and he'd be damned if he let the piss-ant demon ruin his gig by killing a hunter or visa versa. He didn't want it known hunters could take out demons whenever the mood struck them. He liked governing this area of the Hamptons.
He pushed the door open and stepped into the alleyway. His gaze took in the scene unfolding before him and he pursed his lips. Cassandra hadn't wasted any time in provoking the Hashasheen demon into action.
The demon's eyes glowed red, and his stance spoke of lethal intent, but the hunter didn't appear distressed in the least. She truly was a Hayes through and through, and they did not shirk their duties when it came to eliminating what they deemed an undesirable.
Like you, he thought with annoyance, but first she'd have to figure out he was a vampire. Being centuries old had its perks. He could easily glamour his Otherworldly attributes. He could enjoy human food to some extent. He could tolerate meat if prepared on the rare side, and he could consume coffee as long as no cream was added.
Some humans, though rare, had the ability to slow down their heart to mimic death. He knew how to speed up his to imitate a human's vitality. Only thing, he had not accomplished was walking in the sun. He could tolerate daylight on cloudy days without severe effects, but that's all. Even then he could only manage a few hours before he'd burn as red as a boiled lobster if he didn't completely cover his skin, wear a hoodie, and sunglasses. The UV protection sunscreen helped a little too.
He stood back and observed Cassandra's fighting techniques. Graceful like a
ballerina, but deadly as a ninja, and just as fast with her reaction to deflect blows and give ones of her own.
The hunter was winning this fight and probably could manage with one hand tied behind her back by the way it was going. He should well remember this and not underestimate her ability to dust him if she found out the truth about his identity.
"Stay back, Tremayne," she said to him.
"As you wish," he told her. She didn't even glance his way, but knew he had joined the party.
His brows furrowed as he caught sight of something in her hand. When he realized what she held, he almost chuckled out loud. She gripped one of the pencil's she'd used to hold up her bun. He never realized a number two pencil could be used for something more than taking a test. Quite clever.
She sliced the air with it as if she held a sword. The Hashasheen didn't have a chance. He almost felt sorry for the creature. Almost…
She brought the Hashasheen down with a clever sweep of the foot, tripping the demon onto his back.
Tremayne palmed his dagger just in case, but he doubted it would be needed.
"Who's behind the kidnappings and the murders?" she demanded to know. She pressed her boot into his chest.
The demon laughed and spit blood on the ground beside her.
"Tell me what I want to know and I may let you live," she added.
Tremayne moved in closer. The demon met his gaze with a sneer. "Come to watch, have you, bartender?" Then he leveled his gaze on Cassandra. "Do you know who you're working with?" the demon asked Cassandra as he nodded toward Tremayne. "Odd company if you ask me, hunter."
Not good. The Hashasheen may not have spelled it out, but Tremayne had a hunch the demon knew he was a vampire.
"Don't worry who I'm working with," Cassandra said. "Worry about if you'll see another night." She didn't take her eyes off the demon.
Smart move.
"I'd answer the question if I were you," Tremayne said to the demon. "She doesn't care to ask twice. Trust me, I'm the nice one here."
The demon seemed to consider this for a moment then broke down. "I've heard things."
Stake and Dust (Stake and Dust series, Book I) Page 3
