by Paige Tyler
“Making breakfast.” He grinned. “I figured it was my turn to cook.”
“That’s very sweet of you. Can I do anything to help?”
The corner of his mouth edged up. “Just stand there and look beautiful.”
Damn, he always knew what to say.
Leaning back against the counter watching Logan make scrambled eggs, she could almost forget there was a depraved serial killer’s ghost outside the fortified walls of the warehouse waiting to get his hands on her. Although she’d been frightened when Del Vecchio’s ghost had appeared out of thin air again last night, she hadn’t been nearly as terrified with Logan there to protect her this time. She realized now she’d been as afraid for him as she was for herself. While she loved having a hot guy like Logan as her personal bodyguard, she was concerned for him, too. If Del Vecchio wanted to get to her as badly as he seemed to, he was eventually going to eliminate whoever was keeping him from her. Just thinking about what that a-hole might do to Logan made it hard to breathe. She hoped Logan could figure out a way to stop him before that happened.
Still curious if he’d found out anything useful last night, she asked him again once they sat down to have breakfast.
He reached for the pepper shaker. “Not anything that tells me what kind of ghost Del Vecchio is or how to get rid of him. But I did have an epiphany of sorts.”
“What kind of epiphany?” she asked, sipping her coffee.
“That I’m spending too much time talking to other hunters about Del Vecchio and not enough time talking to the things I hunt.” He picked up his fork and loaded it with scrambled eggs. “If we’re ever going to find out what makes his ghost different, we need to talk to other things like him.”
“Where are we going to find a ghost that will talk to us?”
He shook his head. “Not a ghost. Other paranormal creatures.”
“Like what? Vampires and demons?”
“Among others, yeah.”
She bit into a piece of toast. “Isn’t that dangerous? Why would any of them willingly talk to you? I mean, you go around killing them for a living. I imagine that doesn’t make you very popular with their kind.”
“Not usually, no,” he agreed. “But talking to them isn’t as difficult or as dangerous as you might think. Believe it or not, there are a lot of vampires, werewolves and demons out there that are better behaved than your run-of-the-mill ghouls, hellhounds and serial-killing ghost. They have families and jobs. Hell, they even have mortgages. The trick is finding the right paranormal creatures to talk to.”
“How do we do that?”
Logan helped himself to more scrambled eggs. “There’s an underground club in New York City where paranormals hang out. If there’s a place to find out what Del Vecchio is, that’s it.”
“There’s a club for monsters?”
“Yeah. But you probably shouldn’t refer to them as monsters. They tend to be sensitive about that kind of thing.”
She really needed to get out more. “And you think we should go there and ask around? See if anyone knows anything about Del Vecchio’s ghost?”
Logan nodded.
“I suppose that makes sense,” she said. “I’m not trying to sound ungrateful or anything, but why didn’t we try this earlier?”
He took a swallow of coffee. “Because paranormals aren’t known to be the most talkative bunch. While they might know they have nothing to fear from me if they don’t go postal on a human, that doesn’t mean they’re going to talk to me. The only reason I’m willing to go to the club is because we’re sort of at a dead end here.”
Dead end. Not exactly the way she liked to think about it. Of course, he was right regardless of the poor choice of words. They were out of options. At least this might give them something to work with, Presley thought as she went back to her breakfast.
The eggs weren’t bad at all and the toast was even browned nicely. When she mentioned it to Logan, he said he couldn’t take credit for it because the toaster had done all the work. She didn’t agree. Toasters could be very persnickety.
Since she and Logan couldn’t go to the underground club until later that evening and he didn’t want her outside any more than necessary, they hung around his place for the rest of the day. She wondered about the other cases he might be working, but when she mentioned it, he said he’d put them on hold for the time being.
“Right now, my number one priority is protecting you,” he said.
That was okay with her, especially since they spent a good portion of the day trying out various sexual positions she’d read about in the most recent Cosmo, something which Logan was only too happy to do.
He collapsed back on the couch after one exceptionally fun move, his breathing ragged. “Remember what I said that first night at the house in Moores Mill about you needing to do research for the sex in that romance book of yours that doesn't actually exist? Well, I was wrong. You definitely don’t need any lessons in that department.”
Presley laughed and leaned forward to kiss him. “You’re pretty well-schooled in the fine art of lovemaking yourself.”
He chuckled, then surprised her by taking the conversation in a completely different direction. “Is all of this showing up in your journal, by the way?”
She felt her face color. “I don’t know. Maybe. I didn’t believe it at the time, but my shrink was right. Writing down my thoughts—all the things that scare me, worry me…excite me—is really cathartic. It helps me relax and keeps things in perspective. You know, focusing on the good things I can control—stuff like that.”
He ran his fingers up and down her arm. “I'm glad it works for you. Wish someone would have suggested something like that to me five years ago.”
She smiled. She really didn’t see Logan as the kind of person to write his thoughts down on paper.
“You could always start one now,” she suggested.
“Maybe,” he said softly. “Or maybe I can help you come up with something to fill another journal entry with?”
She lifted her head to look at him. “A whole journal entry, huh? I’d like to see what you have in mind for that.”
He grinned. “Yeah? Well, why don’t you come over here so we can try out that position you thought two people couldn’t possibly do without being Cirque du Soleil performers?”
She didn’t answer as she smiled and crawled on top of him.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
IT WAS ALMOST two hours later when they finally came up for air, and just about time to leave for the city. After a quick shower, Presley whipped up something for dinner while Logan called Mav. When the other man didn’t answer, Logan left a message asking his friend to call him back.
Presley couldn’t help but notice the frown that creased his forehead as he put away his cell phone. “Everything okay?” she asked, setting the plates on the table.
“What?” he asked distractedly.
“Everything okay with Mav?”
“Oh. Yeah. Mav is a big boy. He can take care of himself.”
Then why did Logan look so worried? She wanted to ask what kind of supernatural monster Mav was off saving the world from but didn’t. Logan had enough to deal with right now. Like going to an underground club that catered to paranormal creatures who would probably as soon kill a hunter like Logan than look at him.
It took a little over an hour to get from Sleepy Hollow to New York City. Presley was a little surprised when Logan pulled up to a curb outside a small bodega in lower Manhattan.
“I thought we were going directly to the club,” she said.
“We are.”
Presley looked around, but all she saw besides the bodega was a video rental store, a dry cleaner, and a pizza place. She gave Logan a quizzical look, but he took her hand and headed for the bodega. Once inside, he led her down the snack food aisle to a door in the back marked “Private.” He opened it, then guided her down a set of dimly lit stairs. As they descended the steps, she could hear the faint sounds of music
coming from below and realized the underground club really was underground. Considering it was a members-only kind of place, she didn’t expect it to have flashing lights or a neon sign out front, but she didn’t think it would be in the basement of a grocery store, either.
The steps took them to a long hallway, at the end of which was another door. There was a man standing outside this one, and he stepped in front of it as she and Logan approached. If the way he was blocking the door hadn’t told her the man was club security, the fact that he was built like the Hulk definitely did. His stern expression was kind of a giveaway, too. Though he was undoubtedly imposing, she’d expected the place to have bouncers who looked a little less human. Something with fangs and claws, maybe.
“Can I help you?” the man asked.
“Just going to the club,” Logan said.
The man studied them in silence, his eyes narrowing as he looked from Logan to her and back again. “This place is only for a select group of regulars. How did you two hear about it?”
“I’ve been here a few times before,” Logan told him.
The man folded his arms across his barrel of a chest. “I don’t recognize you and I know everyone who comes here.”
“It’s been a while,” Logan said.
“Is that so?” His gaze went from Logan to her again, then back. “Look, there are a lot of nice trendy clubs in midtown. Why don’t you try going there?”
Though the man’s tone was polite, Presley got the feeling he wasn’t going to move away from the door for anything. Logan must have picked up on that too, because she felt him bristle.
“Thanks for the recommendation, but this is exactly the club we’re looking for.” Logan took a step forward. “Now, if you don’t mind stepping aside…”
The man held up his hand, halting them. “Nice try, but I don’t think so. You’re not the right type for this place. The clubs in midtown are better suited to your kind.”
Their kind? Presley frowned. She hadn’t realized vampires, demons, and whatever the heck this guy was could recognize others like themselves.
“Our kind?” Logan lifted a brow. “That isn’t very PC. Maybe we have friends who come here and they invited us.”
The other man scowled. “Or maybe you heard a few rumors and wanted to come check the place out to see if they were right? Well, let me clarify this for you. Everything you heard about this place is bullshit, so you can run back to your nightclubs and espresso shops on the other side of the tracks.”
Presley threw Logan a worried look. He gave her a smile he probably thought was reassuring, but it only made her more nervous. Oh, hell. He was going to do something drastic.
The man barring the door must have thought so too, because he took a threatening step forward. It was then that Presley realized the club’s bouncer wasn’t simply some big, intimidating-looking guy. His eyes were glowing red around the irises and the smell of sulfur was coming off him. That couldn’t be good.
“You might not want to do that, Cruz,” a woman’s voice interrupted. “I think Logan might give you a little more trouble than you’re expecting.”
Cruz stepped away from the door to the club so the woman could pass. “Ma’am, do you know these two?”
The woman laughed, the sound deep and husky. “Oh, I do indeed know Logan Malone. I can’t say I’m acquainted with his little friend, though.”
The woman turned her gaze on Presley, a mix of condescension and curiosity in her dark eyes. She was tall and thin with long, black hair and alabaster skin that looked even more pale next to the material of the floor-length black gown she wore. A gown that showed way too much cleavage and way too much leg thanks to the low-cut neck and high side-slit. She looked like an Elvira wannabe in the get-up, right down to the pouty, red lips. Presley wondered if the woman might actually be a vampire. Whatever she was, Presley immediately decided she didn’t like her.
“Though I daresay if she’s with him, she must be another one of his damsels in distress,” the woman added.
Oh yeah, Presley really didn’t like her now.
“Was I wrong to stop them?” Cruz asked. “I didn’t think people like them belonged here.”
The woman turned her big, dark eyes on Logan. Presley might have grudgingly admitted she was attractive if it wasn’t for the predatory way she was looking at Logan. Like she wanted to take him to bed and devour him. Or maybe just skip the bed and devour him right on the spot.
“No, hunters like Logan Malone don’t belong here,” the woman drawled. “But when has that ever stopped you before, Logan?”
Cruz’s eyes flashed, his irises blazing red. “He’s a hunter?”
The bouncer spat the word as if it were a curse and surged forward, but the woman caught his arm before he could take more than a few steps.
“That’s enough, Cruz. Even though he’s a hunter, Logan is welcome here any time.” Her lips curved into a smile. “He’s a special friend of mine.”
Presley felt a stab of jealousy at the familiar way the other woman looked at Logan.
Beside her, Logan was regarding the woman with an almost amused expression. “That’s very gracious of you, Ramona.”
“It’s my pleasure.” She looked at Presley. “Who is this you’ve brought with you?”
“I’m his girlfriend,” Presley said, taking a step closer to Logan.
Presley knew she should have waited for Logan to make the introductions, but for some ridiculous reason she had an almost overwhelming urge to stake her claim on him. She’d be damned if this woman thought she was going to pick up with Logan wherever the two of them had left off the last time he’d been there. Of course, in her desire to set Ramona straight, she hadn’t given any thought to what Logan’s reaction would be to her announcement that she was his girlfriend. She shouldn’t be presumptive simply because they were sleeping together. She gave him a sidelong glance and was relieved to see a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
“Ramona, this is my girlfriend Presley,” he said, going along with her story. “Presley, this is Ramona. She’s the owner of the club.”
Presley smiled and held out her hand to the woman. “It’s nice to meet you.”
Ramona murmured something indistinct, her fingers brushing Presley’s in a poor imitation of a handshake before she turned her attention back to Logan.
“I’m assuming if you came here with your girlfriend that you didn’t come here to see me,” Ramona said, her husky voice a few degrees cooler than it had been before. “Why did you come?”
“I need to talk to a few of your regulars about a case I’m working on,” Logan said. “See if anyone can help me out.”
Ramona frowned. “You know I don’t like anyone mixing business with pleasure in my club.”
“Believe me, if I could get the information anywhere else, I wouldn’t be here.”
The bouncer, Cruz, stepped forward again. “I can get rid of them if you want, boss.”
Though his eyes weren’t glowing nearly as much as before, the sulfur smell was stronger. The part of the hallway they were standing in felt as if it was getting hotter, too. Presley shifted nervously. What the heck type of paranormal creature was this guy?
“You could try, but I wouldn’t if I were you,” Logan said conversationally to Cruz. “You’re a third-level Pyreal fire demon, right? That would make you deathly afraid of any relics related to Saint Florian. Well, it so happens that I have something of his right here.”
Logan reached into his pocket and pulled out a leather cord with a small glass vial attached to the end of it. Presley couldn’t see what was in the vial because it was so dirty, but whatever it was scared the hell out of Cruz. The big man turned three shades of pale and jumped back as if Logan had struck him, the heat and sulfur smell that had been coming off him immediately disappearing. He looked so terrified Presley thought he might actually turn and flee into the club.
Ramona let out a throaty chuckle. “Oh Logan, you are so mean, frightening po
or Cruz.” She reached out to put a comforting hand on Cruz’s arm. “Logan wouldn’t harm you without reason. It’s not his style. Besides, he would never want to hurt my feelings, would you, Logan?”
Logan smiled and put the glass vial back in his pocket.
Ramona sighed. “Oh, all right then. Come in and ask your questions, Logan. But be polite. I have a reputation to uphold.”
The woman turned and walked into the club, motioning with her hand for Presley and Logan to follow. As they passed Cruz, the man eased back against the wall, giving them as wide a berth as possible. Knowing firsthand what it was like to be as terrified of someone as he was of Logan and the relic he had in his pocket, Presley almost felt bad for Cruz. Until she imagined what a third-level Pyreal fire demon like him could have done to them. If the heat in the hallway had been any indication, it probably wouldn’t have been much fun.
Whereas the clubs Presley usually frequented were filled with loud dance music and colorful strobe lights, this one had soft music and muted lighting that gave it a more intimate feel. There was a long bar along one wall and a raised platform where a small band was playing against the opposite wall. In between, there was a dance floor and dozens of tables and chairs, most of which were occupied. The club’s patrons seemed entranced by the musicians and as Presley listened to their music, she could understand why. Two men and a woman, they played odd-looking string instruments that created stirring, emotional sounds reminiscent of whales singing. The resulting music was strange and yet beautiful at the same time and Presley was annoyed when Ramona’s husky voice interrupted it.
“Try not to disturb my patrons, Logan. They enjoy their privacy. It’s part of why they come here.” She glanced briefly at Presley, then turned her attention back to him. “If you get bored with your little girlfriend, you know where my office is. Come see me.”
Giving him a smile, she turned and sauntered away, hips swaying provocatively.
“Please tell me you didn’t sleep with her,” Presley said.
He chuckled. “Jealous?”