by E. A. Copen
He shrugged and leaned back in his chair. “I’ve got options. You, on the other hand, not so much. I’m offering help, love, help you desperately need.”
I thought hard about Robbie’s offer. On the one hand, I had Creven to help me. If he’d prepared as I asked, I wouldn’t need Robbie’s help. But if things didn’t go as planned… “You hang back,” I told him. “I’ll call if I need you.”
“I hate to interrupt,” Abe said. “But if we are going to do this, we are going to need to go.”
All three of us looked to the clock on the wall. Already, it was after five. Kim let out a curse. “Aisling’s supposed to open in twenty minutes. We can’t let people in and then have a duel.”
“It’s an active crime scene!” I said.
Kim stood and pressed her hands over the front of the dress. “I have a private party booked for tonight, the patrons of which will be more than a little angry with me if I turn them away last minute. You’ll have to move the venue.”
I stepped up to Kim. “Cancel the party.”
Her mouth opened, revealing her fangs, and she drew her tongue over her painted lips before smacking them.
Abe’s hand came down heavy on my shoulder. “We can tell them ourselves, Judah. Perhaps they will respond better to a badge. That way, the blame falls on us and not the proprietor of the business.”
“Fine,” said Kim, and she spun on her heels, headed for the door. “Your funeral.”
“If that’s all then,” Robbie said, standing. I waved for him to go and said I’d take care of all the paperwork.
Abe’s face twitched as he watched them leave. “What a strange little town this is,” he said.
“Can you really beat Crux?”
He looked down his nose at me and then cracked a reluctant smile. “We will see, will we not?” Then he left.
Alone in the interrogation room, I sat down in the chair and stared at my hands. Mara, why didn’t you come to me? I thought. All of this could have been avoided if she’d just trusted me enough to let me help her. I couldn’t blame her, though, not after everything that had happened to her. Hell, it hadn’t been long since I gunned down her parents in front of her.
What a skinny waif she’d been, her limbs all bruised and her face covered in dirt. They’d dressed her in bib overhauls and a dirty white cotton shirt and put two of those little plastic barrettes in her boy cut hair. Cowering in a corner of the shack, just inches from where her parents had been shot dead, tears streamed down through the dirt on her cheeks.
I told her I was there to help her. Dammit. I owed her more than the occasional lecture or ride. Even if it cost me everything, I had to save her.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
As soon as we arrived at Aisling, I realized why Kim was so reluctant to cancel the private party. The lot was empty of most of its cars. Instead, it was full of motorcycles. A burly looking, leather-clad set of guys stood out front, smoking and joking. One was a big potbellied fellow while the other was a tall, lean muscle-bound guy. Both wore long hair and plenty of tattoos. When Abe and I got out of our respective vehicles, one tapped the other on the shoulder and pointed at us.
“Do you know these men?” Abe asked me.
“Nope. Not locals I’m familiar with.”
We approached the door. One of them reached out and put a hand on Abe’s shoulder, stopping his advance. Abe glared down at the hand.
“Sorry, buddy,” said the biker, unmoved. “This is a private party.”
Abe bared his fangs but the guy didn’t do anything other than take his hand away.
I decided my badge would be more useful in this situation and brought it out. “Special Agent Judah Black, BSI. This is my partner, Agent Helsinki. I need to speak to whoever’s in charge.”
“You got a warrant?”
“Nobody’s under arrest,” I said. “But we’re going to need for you all to clear out. This establishment is closed for the night.” The one who had asked about the warrant turned to the other one. Before things could escalate, I raised my hands. “Look, I don’t want trouble. I don’t want to ruin your party, either. We just need the building clear. Supernatural business. You understand?”
“You’d better talk to Istaqua,” said the tall one. He jerked his head toward the door before pushing it open. “Come with me.”
Abe went first, caught the door and held it for me. “Ladies first.”
I hesitated and put my hand on the door. “Age before beauty.”
He grinned back and gave up, going on inside.
We passed the coat check room, which was more of an alcove, though it was a nice one. Usually, Aisling did a good job of presenting itself as an upscale strip bar. Not tonight. If anything, the employees had dressed the place down. The nice, velvety carpet was still there, as was the expensive mahogany welcome desk, but the people manning said desk weren’t wearing their customary suits or cocktail dresses. That night, the attendants were a small group of guys with leather vests, long hair, and tattoos. One of them had an honest to God eyepatch. They glared at me as my escort walked us through and into the VIP lounge.
The last time I’d been in there, it was to interrogate Robbie for my last big case. It was smaller than the regular dance floor since this room wasn’t built for dancing. Round booths lined either side of the wall, leaving an aisle in the middle. Most of the tables had a pole in the middle of them, though strippers only occupied a few of them. A little surprising considering how many bikers were in there. The place stunk of old leather, sweat, and cigar smoke. As we pressed our way through the bikers, drawing suspicious glares, I could just make out the source of the cigar smell at the far end of the room. A big cloud gathered there and grew with every passing moment.
When we finally broke through, we were standing in front of a crowded table where there were two women for every man. At the center of the table sat a big white guy with more hair on his face than his head. His cheeks were flushed, but it was hard to tell if it was because of the bottle of whiskey in his hand or the half-naked women on either side of him. There was also an older fellow there with reflective sunglasses on. He wasn’t drinking with the rest but sat on the edge with an air of authority. One of the patches on the leather vest he wore declared he was the MC president. A scrawny guy with curly red hair and freckles laughed loudly as the guy in the center of the table got another kiss and downed another vodka before elbowing a second man who sat between him and the president.
That guy happened to be no one other than Sal Silvermoon, and he was too busy to notice because some bleach blond bitch had her hands all over him.
I felt cold. My hand squeezed into a fist around my badge until the edges cut into the meat of my hand. An inexplicable nauseated feeling crawled out of my stomach and settled in my throat. When the woman slid her hand down the inside of Sal’s thigh and pressed her lips to his ear, the feeling only intensified.
Our guide went to the man in the reflective sunglasses to announce us, but I’d already lost my patience.
“Plans my ass,” I growled and marched toward the table.
Approaching the table uninvited was a bad idea. As soon as I stopped moving, there were six guns pointed at the back of my head. Abe made a hissing, growling sound and bared his teeth, drawing a curved knife from somewhere on his person. A few more guns came out, pointed at his head.
There was a loud choking sound behind him at the table as Sal looked up and realized it was me standing there. The blond bitch rubbed his back.
The president tapped his shades once, lowering them so he could look over them at me. “I believe they call this a Mexican stand-off,” he said in a Texas drawl.
“Special Agents Black and Helsinki,” I said in my most official tone, raising my badge. “Sorry to disturb your party, but you folks will have to clear out of here. Official agency business.”
“I know you,” said the skinny red-haired guy, removing a cigarette from between his lip
s. He smacked Sal on the shoulder. “Lose your human?”
“It’s alright. I know her,” Sal said, putting a hand on the president’s shoulder. Some of the guns turned away. Others didn’t. Sal fought his way out of the booth, half climbing over the MC president. As he did, I was both shocked and angered to see he was wearing the same colors as the rest of them. By the looks of the tag his bore, he was more than just a full-fledged member, too. He was their goddamn road captain.
I ignored Sal and continued to address the president. “I’m afraid this isn’t a personal matter. Aisling is closed until further notice and, if you don’t leave, you’ll be trespassing and interfering with a federal investigation.”
“Judah,” Sal said, leaning in close. “Tell me what’s going on.”
I turned my head to glare daggers at him. “Plans, huh? Which one’s your date? The red-head or the blond bitch?”
“Look, can we talk about this later?” He made the mistake of putting a hand on my shoulder.
I shoved him away. By then, the blond bitch had shimmied her way out of the table and she was making a beeline for Sal. “Come on, baby. You don’t have to stand there and take it from this pig.”
My jaw dropped. “Excuse me?”
The president chuckled. “Oh, this will be good.”
She let go of Sal to get in my face. “You heard me, piggy. You’re just pissed ‘cause you’re jealous he’s with me and not your pig ass so step off, bitch.” She put a hand on either of my shoulders and gave me a shove back.
Half out of frustration and half out of pure defensive instinct, I drew back my right fist and clocked her hard across the jaw. She stumbled back with a satisfying screech of distress, her legs going up like a cartoon. I was on top of her before I even had time to think it through, accenting every word with a fist to the face. “I. Am not. A fucking. Pig!”
I drew my fist back to hit her again. Long, cool fingers wrapped around my wrist. I spun, somehow managing to stand at the same time, and took a swing at whoever had grabbed me only to have Abe block the punch with his other hand. His eyes gleamed, changing from their normal brown to a pale gray.
“Enough,” he said. There was no hint of threat in his voice, but I saw enough in his face to make me believe he could make me stop if I didn’t do it on my own.
“Jesuth Chrith,” the girl was saying as blood spilled from her split lip and broken nose.
Jesus Christ was right. What the hell had gotten into me?
“Get out of here before I do more than mess up your face,” I told the girl.
I turned back to Sal. “Yeah. We can discuss it later,” I said, wiping some blood off of my hands. “Take care of this,” I told Abe and then turned to push back through the crowd in search of the women’s room.
The bikers didn’t stand in my way. Even the ones who hadn’t seen what I’d done to the bimbo backed away and gave me room to pass, whether out of instinct or because everyone else had done the same.
The women’s room was on the other side of the lobby, and I stormed through the door and straight up to the sink. Somehow, I’d torn open a knuckle and blood was running down my fingers and dripping onto the floor. I turned on the tap and ran cold water over the back of my hand before leaning down to splash more on my face. Two knuckles were swollen and the one was torn open and bleeding everywhere, turning purple. Once the bleeding stopped, I flexed my hand and tested the joints. Good. It didn’t act broken. A little heat would help with the stiffness and I’d be good as new.
I walked toward the automatic hand dryer and paused halfway there when I realized Sal was standing at the entrance to the women’s room, leaning against the wall. I gave him a hard look and went back to the sink to run hot water over my knuckles instead. “What do you want?”
“You busted her up pretty good,” he pointed out.
“She deserved it. And you should be thanking me. Whores like that, they aren’t date material, Sal.”
“I never said it was a date.” He folded his arms over his chest.
“Well, whatever it was, it wasn’t worth it. What is it Mara says all the time? Sorry, not sorry.” I grabbed a paper towel and started wiping up the blood on and around the white porcelain sink. “Well, are you going to say something or just stand there like a big, dumb idiot?”
“This big, dumb idiot saved your life earlier today.”
I tossed the brown paper towel into the trash and stepped up to Sal, rising up on my tip toes to do the best I could to get in his face. “Guess we’re even.” When I tried to sidestep him, Sal moved in my way and stared me down, expecting me to back down. I didn’t. I stood toe to toe with him and glared right back. “Get the hell out of my way.”
“Not until you admit it.”
“Admit what?”
His mouth twitched. “You beat the shit out of Kandie because you were jealous.”
I laughed, lifting my eyebrows in disbelief. “Kandie? Her name was Kandie? I’m never going to admit I’m jealous of a girl named Kandie.”
“Admit it.”
“No.” I tried to slide around him but he blocked me again, putting a hand out in front of me. “Come on. I don’t have time for this.”
I tried to push on through. He pushed me back at half strength. I’ve seen Sal fight enough times to know he could have pushed me through a wall if he wanted. He paced forward, the stance telling me he was ready to push me again if I tried that trick one more time. But that son of a bitch, there was a smug little smile on his face. He was challenging me, daring me to get past him.
Against every urge in my head to take him up on his challenge, I stepped back until I couldn’t anymore. My palms pressed flat against the cool wall but I didn’t shrink up. I wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction. “Cut it out,” I said. “It’s not funny.”
He didn’t say anything. He just rolled his shoulders and cracked his knuckles. As if that was supposed to be intimidating. Okay, so it was a little. Or those butterflies in my stomach were from something else. Either way, it didn’t stop me from being pissed at him.
I waited until I thought he was just out of arm’s reach from me and then darted forward, thinking I could duck away from him. But Sal’s a werewolf, which means his reflexes are twice as fast as a normal human. He caught me easily, wrapping an arm around my waist and lifting me off the floor, pinning me against the wall by pressing one hand hard against my shoulder. He was standing so close I felt like I couldn’t breathe without taking in some of his smoky scent, his eyes bearing tiny flakes of gold. My heart was pounding as he leaned toward my face. I thought at first he was going to yell at me some more but, as he came closer, I realized that wasn’t where this was going.
He's going to kiss me. Panic worked in my throat. Should I stop him? Do I even want that? Even as I argued with myself, though, I knew I did. I had wanted it for a long time, dreamt about it even. Wanting something didn’t mean I could have it, though. The last time I had let myself fall for someone, I had to watch as our friends and neighbors hung him from a tree by the neck until all the life went out of him.
The memory came rushing back full force from wherever I’d buried it. I pushed it away, further down. Now wasn’t the time for me to deal Alex’s murder. Right now, I had to stop this thing with Sal before it went too far, before I let him kiss me…Before we both did something we regretted.
I did what every girl ought to do when a werewolf is about to kiss her. I balled up my fist and clocked him good and hard across the jaw.
Sal’s head whipped to the side. Oops, I thought as I realized I accidentally put a little magick wallop in my punch. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have even noticed. Oh, shit. That was a mistake. I don’t want…I don’t know what I want. Dammit, Judah. Make up your goddamn mind.
He blinked hard. “Ow! What the…”
“Fuck it,” I said, grabbing a fistful of his hair at the scalp, pulling his face down to bite his lip.
Sal bit back.
I was suddenly aware of the stubble on his chin scraping against my face like sandpaper. His skin smelled like a bonfire over wet earth, sweet, exciting, dangerously warm. And when he opened his mouth against mine, the taste of him was more intoxicating than any drink they could have mixed at the bar.
But, as much as I wanted—no, needed—where this was going, I needed to get back out there and help Abe get ready for his duel more.
I turned my head away and gave Sal a push. “What’s wrong?” he asked me as I paced into the center of the bathroom. “Hey, I didn’t mean…”
“It’s Mara,” I said quietly without looking at him. “It’s…It’s a work thing.”
“Shit,” he said. “Vampires and ice giants and stuff?”
I nodded.
“You need extra hands?”
“I need Aisling to be empty.”
Sal sighed, put his hands on his hips and shrugged. “I could try to clear us out, but they’ll want a reason, and you can bet ‘because I said so’ isn’t going to fly.”
“Well, if they hear about vampires and ice giants, they’ll want to stay for the show,” I answered, crossing my arms. “And I can’t allow that. Someone’s going to get hurt.”
“Someone’s always getting hurt.”
“Mara could get hurt. Crux has her.”
That set him off. He let out a loud string of curses ending with, “That son of a bitch. Is this his doing? You’d think a broken jaw would’ve taught him a thing or two. Stubborn prick.”
“That was you?” I didn’t know why I was surprised. I mean, if I thought about it, it made sense. Sal did bounce at Aisling on occasion.
“Not me but one of the guys, yeah. We have a sort of standing deal with Kim and Robbie. They let us drink for free, we throw out the trash and help him keep the girls safe. Escort ‘em home and stuff. Everybody wins.” He raised his hands in a placating gesture. “And before you ask again, yeah, I knew Mara was working here. I didn’t tell you because she made me swear not to.”
“Does Ed know?”