Fresh Blood (2 page)

“What?”

“You don’t have a buyer yet?”

“She said she’s leavin’, Frank. Why don’t you
just escort the lady to the door?” The bartender gave Erica a snide
look as she tucked the ten-spot into her apron.

Frank obliged by yanking Erica toward him.
“Let’s go.”

“I’m buying for her.”

The voice sent a chill down Erica’s spine.
Deep and sexy with a hint of British accent, it was a voice that
could melt a woman or freeze her. Frank let her go instantly as if
contact with her skin suddenly burned him.

Erica looked up at her dubious savior and did
her best not to react. She’d never thought of a man as beautiful,
but she couldn’t think of another word to describe him. His hair
was midnight black, and his eyes were the bottomless blue of a
tropical ocean. His white shirt lay open to the second button, and
a dark tie hung askew as though he’d just loosened it. A gold pinky
ring gleamed on his right hand as he held it out to her.

Frank and the barmaid exchanged a glance
before they both went back to their duties, leaving Erica on her
own. The man’s scrutiny left her feeling naked and much too warm,
and she found herself wishing she’d brought a stake just so Frank
would have a reason to throw her out.

“I was just leaving.” What a cliché. True,
but nevertheless. She might as well have told him she had to go
home and wash her hair. He studied her for a moment and his eyes
darkened, not with anger, but with something else that made Erica
just as uncomfortable. When he spoke, his words left no room for
argument.

“The management here doesn’t like drop-ins.
If a human comes in, it’s understood what they’re here for. If you
want to leave without someone feeding on you, you’ll come with
me.”

Erica stared at the man before her. He didn’t
look much like a vampire. His skin wasn’t all that pale. His blue
eyes practically sparked with inner fire, and she didn’t see any
fangs. She glanced back at the barmaid, but found no ally there.
With her spilled drink paid for, the blonde Amazon had no further
use for her.

“I ...”

He didn’t wait for her to finish her
sentence. He reached forward and grabbed her wrist. A second later,
he was dragging her after him through the undulating crush on the
dance floor.

He pulled her toward the club’s front door,
the exit reserved for vampires. Humans came and went only by way of
the alley. If she hadn’t been anxious to leave anyway, she might
not have waited until he yanked her down the two shallow front
steps and into the empty street to protest.

When they hit the rain-damp macadam, he
whirled her around to face him, his long fingers cold as iron
around her arm.

She twisted in his grasp, but he only
tightened his grip.

“What were you doing in there?” His question
seemed personal, delivered in a tone of reproachful concern, as if
he actually cared.

“I was just looking around.” She pulled
ineffectually at her trapped wrist and briefly considered using a
groin shot to make him let her go. Of course, in her hooker heels,
she probably couldn’t have outrun her own grandmother.

“Looking for what?”

“Nothing! I was ... just curious. You’re
hurting me.”

“I don’t believe you.” He looked down his
aquiline nose at her with the obvious intent to intimidate. Erica
held his gaze, but angled her body away from him in an attempt to
keep herself just outside the range of those hypnotic eyes.

“Who are you, anyway? The owner? What does it
matter why I came in? I paid for my drink and I left. No harm done,
and I won’t be coming back.”

“No. You won’t. I don’t want to see you back
here. This isn’t the place for you.”

Erica raised an eyebrow. “Who are you
again--my knight protector?”

His molten gaze traveled to her wrist, and he
let her go so abruptly that she stumbled backward a step. “I just
don’t want to see an innocent drawn into that world. Anybody can
see you don’t belong in there.”

Innocent? Is that what he thought she was?
Ha. What she wouldn’t give to be innocent again. She tossed her
head in a gesture of defiance, gave him a practiced smirk and
turned away. “What I do is none of your business.”

“Actually, it is.”

When she turned back to give him another
piece of her mind, a dull silver glint caught her eye. He held out
a leather wallet with a round badge and a laminated ID tucked under
thin black bands.

A cop? Her mind boomeranged around that one.
Since when did cops cover vampire territory? As far as Erica knew,
what went on in places like After Dark didn’t interest human law
enforcement. Or maybe they were just afraid to get involved.

Intrigued, despite her desire to get on with
her search and rescue mission, she reached out and tilted the badge
so she could read the words by the reflection of the halogen
lamppost in the club’s blacked-out front window. “Maxwell Hart.
Vampire investigator?” The thought struck her funny, but she caught
herself before laughing. “What exactly is that?”

“We work for the vampire king. One of our
functions is to keep the vampire and human worlds as separate as
possible. Feeders are welcome at the clubs, but not drop--ins. Our
world isn’t a tourist attraction.”

Erica gave him a long, appraising look. He
sounded like a cop. “I couldn’t agree with you more, Mr. Hart.”

“Then what were you doing in the club when
you clearly had no intention of becoming a feeder?”

Knight protector. Wouldn’t it be nice? Erica
cocked her head and pursed her lips. If she’d known vampire
investigators existed, she might have called one before she went
trolling the bars for Elena.

“I’m looking for my sister.” It killed her to
admit it. She hated for anyone to know about her problems with
Elena because in her twin’s shortcomings, Erica saw her own
weaknesses.

“Is your sister a feeder?” Hart asked. He
shifted his weight and reached into his pants pocket. Erica rolled
her eyes when he pulled out a notebook, the kind with the matching
pen attached in an elastic loop.

“I don’t need your services, Mr. Hart. I can
find her myself.”

“She’s a feeder?” He wasn’t going to give
up.

“No ... I don’t know. I certainly hope not.
She asked me to meet her at a bar, but I couldn’t make out the
name. I came here because it’s closest to her apartment.” Her last
known address, anyway. Elena didn’t stay in one place for long, but
she never ranged far enough from Erica to be truly independent,
either.

“What’s your name?”

“Elena. Her name is Elena Talbot ...
but--”

“Your name.”

Erica looked up. His eyes drew her in. If he
were human, he’d have been her type. The crisp shirt, the loose
tie, broad shoulders--she fantasized about men like this. The
repressed executive type turned her on--proper and polite on the
surface, a wild man underneath. That was another thing she kept to
herself.

“My name?”

He nodded, and a faint smile played around
his lips. She couldn’t help but feel like he had her right where he
wanted her.

“It’s not important, Mr. Hart. My sister’s
not here. I’ve obviously got the wrong place so I’m just going to
go home and call her tomorrow.”

“If your sister’s not a feeder, why would she
come to a vampire bar?”

“I have no idea.”

One of his dark eyebrows rose. “Do you think
she might be a vampire killer?”

Erica frowned. “My sister is a lot of things,
but she’s not a killer.”

“No, of course not. I’m sure she wouldn’t
hurt a fly. But vampires--we’re a little different. We’re dead
already, so we don’t really matter.” The bitter edge to his words
surprised her.

“She’s not a vampire killer.”

“There’s good money in it.”

“What makes you think she needs money?”

He shrugged. “Some people do it just because
they like it.”

“Mr. Hart--” Erica turned away, but he
touched her arm and the contact singed her. How could a vampire’s
touch be so hot? She looked at the spot where his fingers rested
gently on her arm.

“I’m sorry ... Ms?”

“Talbot. Erica.”

“Ms. Talbot. I’m just doing my job. There
have been a lot of vampire murders recently, and when someone comes
into a club, like you did tonight, just to scope the place out, you
have to understand, it looks suspicious.”

“My sister is not involved in anything like
that, Mr. Hart. I know that much. She’s easily ... led. She may
have decided to become a feeder, in which case, I’d like to stop
her. No offense, but I don’t want to see her become a vampire.”

“We don’t normally turn our feeders, Ms.
Talbot. It’s not economical.”

“Well, that’s good to know.”

“We don’t force our feeders either, as a
rule. So if she’s hanging out at a bar, it’s probably her
choice.”

“Then why did she ask for my help?” Maybe
because she always asks for my help? “She wants me to find her, Mr.
Hart, and I intend to do that.”

He seemed to approve of that. He folded the
notebook and the wallet and returned them to his pocket. Erica
followed the movement then looked away quickly, ashamed by her
interest in points below his belt buckle.

“Why don’t you let me help you, Ms. Talbot?
If your sister is in one of the bars or the clubs or a vampire
compound, you won’t be able to go strolling in for a look around. I
could do it for you.”

“For a reasonable price, I assume?”

He laughed and she liked the sound, as well
as the smile that accompanied it. “No. I’m a public servant, ma’am.
I’m on the government payroll.”

“The government hires vampire investigators
now?” That was a shocker considering the extreme right wing
conservative administration these days. She’d have expected vampire
killers on the payroll, not vampire cops.

“The vampire government,” Hart corrected.
“Contrary to what you might think, part of our job is protecting
humans.”

She didn’t believe that. But still, the
prospect of having a little help seemed, to borrow his word,
economical.

“All right, Mr. Hart. I’d appreciate your
help. The next place on my list is called Danger--Danger, unless
you know a club that’s closer.”

Hart’s smile faded. “I’m not taking you with
me, Ms. Talbot. Like I told you, a human can’t just go into these
places unless you’re a feeder. That’s what these bars are for. It’s
not like in the old movies where we stalk some virginal society
girl and fly into her window on bat wings in the middle of the
night. We invite our feeders to come to us. If you give me a
description of your sister, and preferably something of hers, like
a piece of clothing, something that would have her scent on it,
I’ll do a thorough investigation.”

“Her scent?” Erica pictured Hart leading a
yapping pack of bloodhounds. His sardonic look erased the image
instantly, and she blushed.

“Our senses are much more acute than a
human’s. Even if I didn’t know what she looked like, I could find
her by her scent.”

“Ah ... well, either way, Mr. Hart, I want to
go with you. Elena needs me. She’ll be afraid if she thinks a
vampire is stalking her. She needs to know I’m coming to help
her.”

Hart shook his head. “Not a good idea.”

“I’ll go with or without you. If I have to
break into the clubs myself.”

“You’ll get hurt. Frank was lenient on you
tonight. I’ve seen girls limp out of After Dark after pulling what
you pulled tonight. I’ve seen some crawl out.” He leaned close, and
Erica’s heart jumped when his breath warmed the skin of her neck.
“Some had to be carried out.”

Erica swallowed. “Then I’ll just have to rely
on my knight protector to keep me safe, won’t I?”

Chapter Three

Max slid into the driver’s seat of his car
and tapped the steering wheel in an attempt to keep focused while
the woman slithered into the passenger seat in her skin-tight
skirt.

The whole set-up was wrong. So wrong. He had
to be out of his mind to agree to take her with him anywhere. She
had no idea what she was getting into, and he had an unpleasant
hollow in his gut that told him he didn’t either.

He’d handled missing person cases before.
Young girls left home all the time hoping to mix it up with
vampires. That’s why the clubs had rules. No one under age. No one
on drugs or drunk when they arrived. Of course, what they got into
afterward was up to them.

He liked his job, and he didn’t mind that
part of it was to keep humans from doing things they didn’t really
want to do. What bothered him most was the way they looked at him.
Even this woman--Erica. She thought he was just a vampire. A
monster. He saw it in her eyes. And there, with the keen
intelligence and that sweet vulnerability you just didn’t see in a
woman once she’d been turned, was the fear. What he hated most was
that it still got to him, even after one hundred and seventeen
years.

Her scent was already familiar to him. She
hadn’t doused herself in the artificial pheromones humans used to
disguise their natural scent. She looked like a feeder,
underdressed and over made-up, but she smelled like ... a
librarian. She had a faint aroma of books and ink and female musk
enhanced by the sharp flavor of a natural soap. Just like all the
others, she had no idea it wasn’t the sexy outfit that drew a buyer
at the bar, it was the right scent.

Of course, the shimmering stockings on those
mile-long legs, the push-up bra that gave her an artfully rounded
cleavage and the wisps of golden hair that tickled the naked skin
of her neck, would certainly have drawn any male vampire’s
attention and probably a few females, too. But it was her scent
that had brought Max across the surging tide of dancers to find her
at the bar.