Authors: Elizabeth Hunter
Tags: #Vampires, #Romance, #Fantasy, #Adult, #Mystery
Blood and Sand (6 page)
“You mean Juarez? You know Father told you to stay out of that. It’s none of our—”
“Not Juarez. Closer. On our border,
hermana
.”
There was a pause on the line. “What?
Our
border? With Ivan?”
“Mmhmm. I heard a disturbing rumor that humans were being found out in the desert.”
“Ivan’s side or ours?”
“Both. I need to investigate more. I may need to set up a meeting with him.”
He heard her mutter. “Well, don’t let Father get wind of it. He’s still… you know.”
“Trust me, I know.”
“Want me to mention it to Rory? I think technically that’s his job while you’re gone.”
“Mention it to him. Have him call me when he can.”
“
Hermanito
…” Her voice was soft. “I don’t know why he’s being like this. I’ve tried to talk to him.”
“It’s not your fault,” he said, unexpectedly homesick. “It’s mine. I fought alongside Vecchio. I knew it would make him angry, and I did it anyway.”
“Why?” she groaned. “I still don’t understand—”
“It was the right thing to do, Paula.” When he closed his eyes, he could still see the bodies of the dead monks. The blood pouring out from under Beatrice’s body on the riverbank where Lorenzo had stabbed her. “Even if he doesn’t understand.”
“You were supposed to protect his human, not join a war.”
“I know.” His thoughts flicked to the reporter and his promise to Dez. “Right and wrong are subjective in our world. We both know this.”
“Be careful,” she said. “I don’t want you hurt.”
He smiled. “I’ll be fine.”
The following night, he had Luis put in a call to Ivan’s human staff, laying the groundwork for a meeting between the two vampires. In all likelihood, it would take weeks to actually happen. The night after that, he was following a smartly dressed redhead into the cheapest bar in downtown San Diego. She crossed 5
th
Street and headed into the dimly lit club that clung stubbornly to its cheap neon beer signs and even cheaper beer while the rest of downtown San Datwntown iego reveled in aspiration.
Slipping into the dim bar, he tried to ignore the floor that stuck to his handmade leather shoes. The barstools were cracked red vinyl and occupied by a curious mix of patrons, but the old Chinese woman behind the bar nodded at him and pointed her chin toward an empty stool. It was well away from where Natalie Ellis was sitting, but he preferred that. He wanted to observe the woman. For now.
He watched her as she slid onto a stool and dove into the conversation at the end of the bar, obviously familiar with the group of older men who looked like regulars. Their voices drifted to him as he ordered a vodka tonic and settled in to watch.
“Hey hey! There’s our girl,” one of the men called. “About time you let us take you out to celebrate.”
“You guys…” She shook her head while plopping onto the empty barstool in the middle of the group. “It was months ago.”
“Biggest drug bust in county history and you act like it’s no big deal?” another man said. “Your story practically broke that case for those knuckleheads in the DEA.”
“Hey, Marty, isn’t one of those knuckleheads your nephew?”
“Doesn’t mean he’s smart.”
She grinned. “Pretty sure that means he’s
not
, actually.”
The men around her burst into laughter.
This was her natural environment, Baojia decided. The perfectly coiffed woman at Boca had intrigued him, but the friendly girl who joked with the old men and sipped a beer almost came close to charming. She was relaxed here, despite her professional attire, which did not stand out as much as he would have expected. The gritty bar was filled with all manner of humans. Businessmen in suits mingled with working men in coveralls, both watching a baseball game that was on the television in the corner. There were more men than women, but not so few that Natalie stood out. There weren’t many students, but then it was Thursday night, not Friday or Saturday. Strangely, though the dive bar was completely opposite of his own club in numerous ways, the smell was remarkably similar. Alcohol. Sweat. Skin.
Blood.
He hadn’t eaten since he’d taken Natalie’s blood days before. It was probably a bad idea to see her again without feeding, but he trusted his self-control enough to chance it. This was the human who had provided him with some level of intrigue. He was grateful for that. And since he’d promised Dez anyway…
He watched her with the old men at the end of the bar. Almost all of them were grey-haired and wrinkled—men who would be her father’s age or older, if he had to guess. They watched her with a paternal protectiveness he could respect. She told stories they laughed at. They told jokes that made her groan.
She was happy. Bright.
His eyes slipped to her collar; he could see the pale, freckled skin where he had bitten her. He knew instinctively that, should she ever discover he had marked her, she would be angry. He took a sip of his cocktail and mentally shrugged. There was no need for her to know unless she came to the attention of another immortal. And if she did, annoyance with him was the least of her problems.
“I’m gonna pee my pants unless you stop.” She burst out laughing. “Okay, okay. When I get back, we’re changing the subject.”
“Spoilsport,” one man said.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” She laughed and stood up. “Hey, Howard, can you order me another beer?”
“Sure thing, Nat.”
He watched her as she rolled her eyes and ducked down the hall leading to the bathrooms. Baojia picked up his drink and wandered closer, pretending to watch the baseball game. As he approached, he ignored the sounds of the television and tuned in to the old men’s conversation.
“—anyone called her dad?”
“Would she ever forgive us if we did? She didn’t even call him when she was getting threats during that last story.”
There was scattered muttering. “I’d feel better if she at least had a dog. She lives all alone.”
“She travels too much for a dog. She needs a nice guy. Marty, I thought you was gonna set her up with your nephew.”
“She heard he was a cop and wouldn’t give him the time of day.” They all laughed. “Says she’ll drink with us, but that’s as far as it goes.”
“Eh,” another one said. “My Tricia’s the same way. No cops. No firemen. Probably wouldn’t want her dating one of these young guys, anyway.”
So Natalie’s father was a police officer, as were the men she was drinking with. Retired, he was guessing. He smiled. She was smart. Old cops kept their noses in their old precincts. If she wanted sources for stories, these men would know who to ask. Plus, it was evident she had a genuine affection for them. Then he frowned. They were also, evidently, worried about her.
He heard her leaving the restroom, her step already familiar to his ears. He subtly moved into her path, letting her brush up against him and spill his drink.
“Oh my gosh!” she said, looking up with an embarrassed smile. “How clumsy am I? I’m so sorry. Let me get you another one.”
He looked down at her, more intrigued by the minute. Her scent was distracting, a mix of salt, honey, and the jasmine that grew around her house. “It’s fine. Sorry I didn’t see you.”
“No, it was my fault. I wasn’t paying attention.” She looked down at his black suit. “It got all over you, too.” She pulled him toward the bar. “Hold on, I have some napkins here…” She dug into her familiar purse and brought out a stack of brown napkins he recognized from a local coffee chain. “I always take too many when I get coffee, but I keep them ’cause you never know, right?”
He tried not to laugh as the man named Marty spotted them.
“Nat, you mess up the guy’s suit? You gotta stop trying to run men over. A simple hello works.”
“Hey, shut it.” She slapped the old man’s arm as she dabbed at the spot of vodka and tonic water on his chest. “Poor guy was just trying to watch the game and I ran into him. I’m so sorry,” she said again.
He cocked his head, amused at her fussing. “It’s fine, really.”
“This was probably just dry-cleaned, right?” She did the nose-wrinkling thing she’d done in the car the other night. “You look very… well-pressed.”
“I’m not sure if that was a compliment or not.”
She laughed, a pleasant sound that he decided he wanted to hear more often. “It is! Just ’cause I hang out with these jokers doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate a man in a nice suit,” she said with a wink.
“Hey,” another one of the old men spoke. “You wear a suit when you’re dead.”
“Or you work in a cubicle,” Marty said.
“Same thing,” Baojia added, and all the men laughed.
“Natalie, I like this guy.” One of the old cops slapped his shoulder. “Sit down and let our girlwaslet our here buy you a drink.”
“Oh thanks for offering.” Natalie turned to Baojia and said, “Sorry for the peanut gallery. Join me for a drink? It’s the le
ast I can do since I messed up your suit.”
He smiled. This was far easier than he’d expected.
“I’d love to.”
CHAPTER FOUR
You look well-pressed? Are you kidding, Natalie?
She mentally kicked herself. First, she ran into the incredibly attractive man who’d been sitting at the end of the bar, then she spilled his drink, then she started dabbing what was probably a thousand-dollar suit with cheap coffeehouse napkins and calling him “well-pressed.”
She really needed to get out more.
Natalie was beginning to think Kristy’s assertions that hanging with “the old guys” did not, in fact, constitute a social life might be right. Still, Incredibly Attractive Suit was smiling at her, so that was something. He hadn’t run screaming from Marty and Howard, either. And he was gorgeous. Black, black hair and brown eyes you could fall into and never find your way out. You wouldn’t want to. He was taller than her, but not by much. She’d put him at five ten or eleven, maybe. And his body… Well, if the suit made the man, then this suit—nice as it was—didn’t have much work to do, in her opinion. The man was all there.
He said, “I’d love to.”
“Love to what?” She blinked, coming out of a daze. Was her hand still on the front of his chest? Yes. Yes, it was. She pulled back and mentally cursed when she realized her hand had been resting on his muscles like she was grabbing a new toy. She could already feel the blush staining her cheeks. Damn her pale skin. Now Attractive Suit was looking at her like she was crazy.
“You asked me to join you for a drink.”
“Yes.” She shook her head a little and smiled, motioning to an empty stool at the bar. “I did. What were you drinking?”
“A vodka tonic.”
She held a hand up to grab Connie’s attention. “So, I make it a point to know the names of everyone I drink with. What’s yours?”
Natalie noticed the slight hesitation before he said, “George.”
Liar
.
“George, huh?” She only smiled and sat down next to him. “I totally pegged you for a ‘George.’ Come on, is that really your name?”
He shrugged and leaned an arm on the bar, angling his body toward hers. “My given name is Chinese and really hard to pronounce. So I go by George.”
“Chinese, huh? Are you from China originally? What part?” She finally caught Connie’s attention. “Hey, can I get a Grey Goose and tonic?”
“Sure thing, honey.” The middle-aged woman turned to mix the drink. Connie didn’t put up with crap, and she treated her regulars right. George-who-wasn’t-George would get a good drink.
She turned to see him giving her a look. Natalie shrugged. “Was that right? You look like you have premium tastes. I guessed.”
“You guessed correctly.”
“I’m smart like that.” She sipped the beer Marty handed down to her. Luckily, the guys were keeping their opinions to themselves, for once. Their attention had turned to the game. She glanced over her shoulder. “Sorry. You were watching the game. You don’t actually have to talk to me.”
“I thought you were smart,” he said. She narrowed her eyes, but he looked like he was about to laugh. “You seem far more interesting than a baseball game.”
Smooth. That was almost
too
smooth. Almost.
“Thanks, George. Same to you.” She took another sip of beer.
“And what is your name?”
“Natalie.”
“Natalie, it’s nice to meet you. Do you come here much?”
She couldn’t stop the snort.
Okay, maybe not so smooth.
“Um… yeah.”
“Sorry.” He had the grace to look embarrassed and shook his head. “That sounded like a bad line, didn’t it? I’m genuinely curious, though. It’s my first time here. Is it always so…” He looked around. “Diverse?”
She nodded. “Mostly. More younger kids on the weekends, but during the week, it’s a pretty regular crowd. Connie and her sister have owned this place forever. They’ve pretty much kept it the same. I know the decor’s a little dated, but the glasses are clean and the company’s good.”