by Maria Lima
"Thank you, Travis, but I believe we already know what we'd like."
Adam looked at me as he paused, the enigmatic smile back on his face. The heat rushed to my face and I looked down at my place setting. He was going to have to stop this or we'd never be able to eat dinner. I was likely to grab him and drag him out of here.
"May I take your order then, sir?” The young man, eager as a puppy, was either better at ignoring the byplay than I was or just completely clueless.
"I'd like the mesquite-grilled rib eye,” I answered, disconcerting the boy, who'd been addressing Adam.
"I'm sorry, yes, of course.” He nodded, his hands clasped behind his back. “How would you like that prepared?
"Bruised and brought in. Blood on the inside. Barely warm."
"Yes, ma'am."
He didn't miss a beat. There was hope for the boy yet. “That comes with garlic mashed potatoes and baby grilled vegetables. Would that be satisfactory?"
"Garlic?” I looked at Adam.
"Afraid I'll stay away?” He grinned, barely flashing a glimpse of fang.
I closed my eyes and counted to ten before I spoke.
"That would be fine, thank you, Travis."
Travis turned to look at Adam.
"Your usual, sir?"
Adam closed his menu and handed it over. “Yes, my usual."
Travis nodded and with relief, collected the menus and made himself scarce.
"How old is he?"
"Why do you ask?"
"Only because he's human and I want to make sure he's of legal age."
Adam grinned. “No worries, Keira Kelly,” he said. “Travis looks rather young, but he's legal. He's the son of my daytime manager."
"Good.” I wasn't sure what I'd have done if the boy had been as young as he looked. It really wasn't my business. But it would have bothered me.
The sommelier arrived then. Adam played his part in the customary wine ritual, examining the cork, swirling the ruby liquid in the glass, and taking a small sip. He nodded his head and the man poured and left.
I tasted the wine. “This is fabulous."
The oaky plum flavor burst on my tongue and teased my palate. The start of what I hoped would be an excellent meal, that is, if Adam could rein back his impulse to tease me. Not that it really mattered, his very presence was enough to fluster me if I didn't concentrate on other things.
"It is a most excellent wine,” Adam agreed. He lifted his glass in salute. “It's only made better by the company."
I stared down at my wine stem and played with the edge of the glass. He was so very good at this and I was too long out of practice. I'd forgotten how to flirt. Maybe it was because now it wasn't a game anymore.
I changed the subject. “So, what's your usual?” I asked. “Not..."
I didn't really want to say the word out loud, it was just too open, too not-hidden. The idea of speaking about things like this in public was a little more than I wanted to handle. I'd spent too many years being raised in the so-called normal world, spent too much time mainstreaming in human society. My instinct was to hide who I was, to play the I'm-only-human game.
Adam smiled, leaning forward a little in his chair as if to whisper to me. “I can eat many things.” The smile broadened into an even white grin.
The words flowed like rich honey over me and I felt the heat sliding up my face. This was going to be a very long dinner.
* * * *
Adam's usual wasn't a bucket of blood, but turned out to be a gorgeous filet mignon, delicate as a rose and served as rare as my rib eye. He'd dispensed with any of the side dishes, instead, the little jewel of a steak sat precisely in the center of the plate, commanding all the attention.
I took a bite of my own steak. The tender meat was exquisitely flavored, the woodsy taste of the mesquite complementing the beef. As I picked up my glass to take a sip of wine, Adam captured my gaze with a look and another one of his enigmatic smiles.
I watched him, wondering what he was up to. He lifted his knife with a bit of a flourish, and cut through the seared outer layer of his steak, parting the interior, revealing the tender red center, glistening with juices that ran across the pristine white china, staining its snowy perfection, red mixed with clear, enticing.
He speared the slice with his fork, and, still staring at me, transferred it to his mouth and chewed slowly, lips working sensuously, tongue flicking out to taste the full flavor as he swallowed. I'd come to a full stop and couldn't look away, captivated by his movements, catching a glimpse of extended fangs, prey captured by her predator. I watched, fascinated as a drop of the steak's bloody juices landed on his lower lip. I had to force myself to keep my hands still and not reach over to wipe the drop from his mouth, or worse, lean over and lick it off.
He smiled again, a wicked, knowing look in his eye. Instead of dabbing at the blood with his napkin, he ran his tongue slowly across his lower lip, licking it clean, leaving it shiny and wet. I shivered and found myself leaning forward, mimicking his gesture as my own tongue flicked out and gingerly touched my own lips.
"Well, looks like you two are having a great time."
Talk about freakin’ interruptus. I couldn't even look at Adam. Part of my brain cursed whoever it was, the other part breathed a silent “thank you,” knowing that I'd been so very close to losing control.
I turned to look at the man who'd spoken and was almost sorry I had. My skin flushed even hotter and I lowered my eyes in embarrassment, recognizing the young redhead of the other night. The one that stood in front of my car in my vision. The one who—Bloody hell. It had been a vision, right?
"What do you need, Niko?” I could tell from the tone of Adam's voice that he wasn't happy to have been interrupted.
So this was Niko the wildlife manager. Different. While Adam's power was completely contained, otherness surrounded this vampire, clinging to his skin, his clothes, his very self, a shimmering bubble of energy, a bubble that had weight and substance, almost tangible. Still not as powerful as Adam, but the potential was there.
Up close he didn't seem as young as he'd looked in my vision. The face was unlined and, at first glance, he'd pass for twenty, but there was a heaviness of experience behind the luminous blue eyes that only came with years. His pale skin shone against the deep black of his velvet pirate shirt floating untucked over equally black leggings tucked into low boots. A blood-red brocade vest embroidered with black traceries topped off the Goth ensemble. Long reddish-blond hair swept just past his shoulders, set off by the rich dark colors of his clothing. Niko was so definitely not trying to pass. The words “barnyard rooster” came to mind.
Niko's eyes flickered over to me momentarily, then back to Adam. “Just being courteous and greeting our ... guest."
He turned to me and smiled broadly, flaunting a hint of fang. “But now, I'm sure the young lady here would like to finish her meal. Perhaps indulge in some dessert?” I could sense the intended double meaning behind his so polite words. Niko was as much of a tease as his boss, if not more so. I hoped this wasn't typical behavior for all vampires. One teasing bloodsucker I could handle, and wanted to, but all of them? Not even a consideration.
"Go away, Niko,” Adam did not sound amused.
Niko's twinkling eyes crinkled at the corners. It didn't take a genius to know he was very well aware of just what he'd interrupted. I was convinced he'd done it on purpose. I already didn't like him much. Niko grinned again, and then snapped a small bow before leaving.
"Did he just interrupt us to be rude?” I asked, spearing a slice of meat on my fork.
"Niko can be a little impulsive,” he answered. “I think he wanted to check you out."
I raised an eyebrow. He'd done more than check me out in my vision, damn it. Even though it hadn't actually happened, I definitely got the feeling Niko was fully capable of playing the glamour ticket. His arrival alone had been a calculated act of passive-aggressiveness, intended to disrupt our meal and our rather heavy flirtation. Jealo
us? Or just too damned curious? I wondered what exactly his and Adam's relationship had been over the years. Employer and employee, friends, more? Niko definitely gave off some interesting vibes.
"He should remember what curiosity did,” I said and turned back to my meal.
Adam laughed out loud. “My sweet, you are undeniably an interesting dinner companion.” He grinned at me and raised his wine glass in salute.
I smiled and shrugged, raising my own glass in answer. Look who was talking.
"Well, isn't this just ducky?” The scathing sentence dropped between us, a biting chill of frost crashing into our intimate mood.
Carlton stood in the doorway of the bar.
I put my wine glass down as Adam turned and stood in one movement, smooth and graceful.
"Sheriff Larson,” he said, his voice neutral.
"Why are you here?” I wasn't quite so neutral.
Andrea pushed past Carlton, apologizing. “Sorry, Adam, I asked him to wait in the lobby until you were—"
"No worries, Andrea,” Adam waved a hand, dismissing her. “We were nearly done with dinner. Sheriff, what brings you here?"
Carlton scowled at Adam, then at me, then back at Adam. “I came to talk to Walker about the deer. I didn't know you were here."
I glared at Carlton, whose body language held all the hurt and defiance that only an old boyfriend could have when finding his former lover is now dating someone else. I could say something totally untrue, like “it's not what it seems,” but it was exactly what it seemed. It just sure as hell wasn't any of Carlton's business.
He sauntered into the private dining room, a little bit of a strut in his walk. He was playing jealous ex-boyfriend for all it was worth.
"I just got back from Houston and figured you'd want to know what I found out at the bank. Besides, you left a rather interesting message on my voice mail. Went by your place, you weren't there. Left a phone message. Then I came on over here.” His drawl was pronounced and as artificial as Fresca. He hadn't talked that way since high school. “I was going to go back by your place after I came to the ranch. I didn't realize you'd be here."
"I don't file my plans with you, Carlton,” I said, trying to keep calm. “So what part of what you found out was so all-fired important you had to talk to me this late?” I glanced over to the clock on the wall as I stepped forward, in front of Adam. “At nearly ten-thirty at night?"
Adam rested a hand on my shoulder. A show of solidarity? Possessiveness? I ignored it as best I could and made an effort to keep calm.
The sheriff frowned. “I have news about what I found out in Houston. About your cousin Marty."
"So, talk,” I demanded.
Carlton looked down at the ground and didn't speak.
I may have lost some self-control, but I surely I hadn't lost my common sense. Why didn't he just tell me? I was getting impatient with him.
"I think that your ... friend ... doesn't want to talk in front of me.” Adam's silken voice sounded amused, superior and smug.
Damn this male posturing, anyway. Was Adam going to start acting the jealous possessive date now? Shit, did vampires still have testosterone to throw around? I certainly hoped this wasn't going to disintegrate into a “whose is bigger” game.
"Why don't the two of you go into the parlor,” Adam continued, “and discuss your personal matters. Then the sheriff may speak to me in my office."
"Is there anything I can do, Mr. Walker?” Evan's voice came from behind Carlton. He stepped to the side, wiping his hands on a bar towel, looking like nothing more than a concerned bouncer.
"Nothing, thank you, Evan,” Adam said. “The sheriff is here to talk to Ms. Kelly. Everything is fine."
The tall blond frowned, but nodded and tossed the bar towel over his shoulder as he left. I looked back at Carlton, who had the grace to look embarrassed.
Adam closed in and lightly brushed a kiss on my forehead, his hand caressing my cheek with a wisp of a touch, his look smoldering a promise. Stepping to the side, he turned and sketched a slight bow to Carlton, who stood rigid as a steel beam.
"Go, speak to the sheriff,” Adam said. “We'll talk later. The parlor is just through the lobby to the left."
"Let's go,” I said, and walked out, hoping Carlton would follow. I noticed Evan watching us as we crossed through the bar.
Before I reached the main area of the lobby, which was suspiciously empty of guests, Carlton's voice stung me.
"How touching.” The acrid harshness of the words warred with the sleek softness of Adam's tone.
I whirled, anger coloring my own words. He wasn't going to wait until we got to the parlor. He was planning on having this out right here. That was fine with me. I had nothing to hide.
"What right do you have to comment on anything that goes on in my life, Carlton Larson?"
He approached me, stopping only when I raised a hand.
"I did once."
"Not even then,” I said, moving away from him. “Besides, it's long since over. We've had this conversation."
"Yeah, I noticed you're conversing with someone else."
"And you're married. For twelve years is it? How is Carol, anyway?"
Carol, the petite blonde bombshell that he'd run to after our break up. Okay, I was being mean. He'd run to a new job. She'd only been a fringe benefit. An oilman's daughter, she'd been temping as a Citizens On Patrol liaison at the San Antonio PD when they'd met. I'd heard the whole story in great detail the one time I'd called him in San Antonio, not long after he'd left Rio Seco. I'd tried to extend a hand of friendship. He'd metaphorically slapped it away.
His laugh spilled anger and frustration into the air. It was the “I have to laugh before I cry” kind of sound.
"Married. If that's what you want to call it. My so-called wife decided that life at her parents’ mansion in Conroe was infinitely preferable to life in Rio Seco with me."
He sat down with a heavy sigh, pulling his hat off his head and running his hand through his matted-down hair until it stood on end. It made him look more vulnerable somehow, not the in-control lawman.
I sat on a chair across from him, far enough away so I didn't have to work so hard at blocking the emotion that was pouring off him in waves.
"I put up with years of city politics, of gang-bangers, of innocent dead children for her. She hated the fact I wanted to stay a cop, she wanted me to get promotions, make captain, get a desk job with a little prestige. So I suffered.” He stared down at his hands, clenching and unclenching them.
"The last case I had, these hands had to touch the bodies of three dead kids. All of them were under the age of five. They'd been playing in the living room when a group of gang-bangers shot up the wrong house. One little girl had no face left. The bullets ripped through her skull like it was a birthday pi?ata. Her brains were scattered across her mother's brand new white couch."
He looked at me through unshed tears. “I quit the next day. Carol left me before I even moved back home, Keira. It wasn't just that I'd quit my job. She always knew how I felt about you. That you were the reason I came back here instead of moving somewhere else. I stopped in Conroe on my way back from Houston. Wanted to see my kids. Tried to convince Carol to come back with me."
I couldn't speak. His heartbreak was more than I could take right now. Part of me wanted to comfort him, as a friend, as someone I'd once cared about, but I couldn't. This was too much for me to handle. I was afraid that if I let down my guard, he'd take it the wrong way.
"I'm sorry. But I can't. What we had was years ago, Carlton. It's over. I can't be the reason you came back home."
"I'm not good enough for you anymore, is that it?” The nastiness returned.
"Stop it, Carlton. Do not make this about me. What happened in your home life is your business, not mine. What I do with my life is my business, not yours. Now what did you come here to tell me?"
His glare matched mine. But he got the hint and changed the subject.
&n
bsp; "I got the bank records,” he said. “Your cousin was in deep with the Albrights. For every deposit he made, he wrote a check to either Derek or Dusty for a good chunk of money. The last check he wrote was a couple of weeks ago."
"And this is news because—?” I was livid. If he'd come over here just to play pity poor me and to tell me information I'd already figured out for myself—
"The money came from someone you know, Keira. From here. From the Wild Moon."
"You're lying.” My response was automatic.
"I am not. Why would I lie about this? I had no idea you were seeing that guy when I came over here. When the hell did you meet him anyway? You didn't say anything the other day when I saw you at Bea's."
"Again I ask the question. Why exactly do you think this is your business?
"Because if that money came from your new boyfriend, then maybe he had something to do with your cousin's murder."
"How do you know the money came from the Wild Moon anyway?"
I didn't know much about banks, but unless someone had been stupid enough to write out a check to Marty, there'd be no way to know this. My bullshit detector was screaming.
But Carlton had an answer that I couldn't argue with.
"I sweet-talked a young clerk who remembered your cousin. She was more than willing to talk about the creepy little bald guy who tried to pick her up. She said he kept talking about all the money he was making from this rich jerk at the Wild Moon. She remembered thinking the name was odd."
"How convenient,” I said. Two could play the sarcasm game. “She just happened to remember all of this."
Carlton looked at me as if he couldn't believe how stupid I was. Maybe he was right. But before I went off accusing Adam of anything, he'd have to give me more to go on than some bank clerk's memory.
"I imagine you'd remember, too, if someone kept coming in person all the way from Rio Seco every month."
I slumped back into the chair, staring off toward the bar. The place had nearly emptied. I was sure Adam had asked the patrons to leave. Either that, or even the vampires weren't amused by our antics. Evan and his friend were the only ones there. As I stared, the two of them looked at me, looked away, then walked out. Great, they probably didn't want to deal with us, either. Neither did I for that matter.