I bobbed my head and turned up the heater. “That and I want to ask him about that stranger I saw. Just find out if he’s seen or heard anything unusual.”
“Are we going to Dagan’s too?”
“No, not if I can help it. Ugh, I hate going there.”
“Yeah, it’s not exactly a charming place.”
I turned a corner and No Regrets loomed before us, the place painted black so you couldn’t delineate it from the dark night sky. A bright red electric sign screamed from the wall and looked like it was floating. A line was already forming around the building. It was the one place where all the creatures of the Netherworld hung out. You might get a few humans thrown in here and there but most times, Bram kept them out. Most Netherworld creatures weren’t crazy about hanging out with humans.
“Crap, look at the line,” Sam said.
I pulled up in front and noticed Bram standing outside with Nick, the ogre. Nick was huge—just shy of eight feet, and he was as big as a wall. Nick’s face was broad, and his nose was flat and wide, with a bull’s ring through the middle. His eyes were too small for his face and his mouth, too big.
Ogres are known for having terrible tempers, and Nick was no exception. I’d seen him bounce a few wily wolves, and it hadn’t been pretty. Broken bones had been the result…and not Nick’s.
A huge smile lit Bram’s handsome face. He was tall—six-five and broad. Standing next to Nick, though, he looked emaciated. When Bram had been turned into a vampire, he’d had a day’s or so growth of stubble, so now he permanently looked the rogue. His looks tied with his English accent gave Colin Firth a run for his money (and I mean when Colin was the Mr. Darcy).
“Ladies, ladies,” he said, materializing directly next to Sam.
She tightened her jaw, but other than that, she looked totally at ease.
“Can I park in the back, Bram?” I asked, noting there wasn’t a spot to be had on the street.
He rested his long fingers on the Wrangler’s passenger door. “Please. Park next to me. I am pleased to see you both.”
Sam rolled her eyes, and I just shook my head. Bram was the quintessential flirt.
“Are you going to let go so I can go park or what?”
He smirked with a great show of fangs and let go of the door as if it’d been scalding hot.
Course, he was dead, so he wouldn’t notice cold or heat or anything else.
I pulled into the back of the No Regrets lot. Bram’s black Porsche beamed under the lamplight like it was proud of itself. I parked in the space next to it.
“Hopefully, Bram will be too busy tonight to bother us,” I said. “After I get my information out of him, that is.”
Sam laughed. “He seems to always make time where you’re concerned.”
I just shook my head and turned the car off as Sam and I jumped out. The back way in was always locked, so we walked around the front. As we passed the long line, I didn’t miss the angry yells and insults those still stuck in line threw at us.
“Hey!” Nick yelled down the line. “Take it elsewhere if you don’t like it.”
“Hi, Nick,” I said, always a little intimidated by the gargantuan guy. He was like looking up a redwood tree.
“Dulcie and Sam,” he said with a drop of his head. Nick had it something bad for Sam, but she was as scared of him as I was.
“Ah, you got my message, sweet,” Bram said, coming up behind us.
Tension filtered through my shoulders at the mention of “sweet”. Bram thought it was cute or something—Dulce meaning sweet in Spanish. So not original and so freaking annoying.
“I have some Regulator business to discuss with you, Bram,” I said.
He just smiled and leaned his elbow against Nick’s shoulder, who was sitting on a barstool. Bram reached for Sam’s hand and brought it to his lips.
“Lovely to see you, Samantha.”
She grumbled something unintelligible and started for the door. Nick gazed at her like she was chocolate and he was on a diet. Bram reached for my hand, but I batted his away.
“Just say hello like any normal person would, Bram.”
He chuckled and dropped his hand. “Do you have your identification on you, Dulcie, Sweet?”
“My ID?” I repeated while irritation blazed through me. The bastard was going to ID me?
“If you are on business, I need to see your A.N.C. ID, Sweet. It’s only standard protocol.”
My ID was sitting on my desk looking at the ceiling and doing me absolutely no good. Goddamit. “I don’t have it,” I said.
“What was that, Sweet?” Bram repeated.
I extended my hand, knowing I’d have to deal with his ministrations if I were to get inside the club and get him to answer even the simplest of questions. He took my hand and rather than kissing it, pulled me into the hard length of his chest. I squeaked in protest as he bent his head, grabbing my neck to hold me in place. Then he kissed me over my jugular. My heart pounded in my chest, as if it wanted to bust free and punch him in the face.
When he let go, I nearly lost my footing. “You son of a,” I started.
Bram’s raspy laugh interrupted me. Nick pretended he hadn’t seen anything, but his face was too red to deny the fact that he had. If I’d been in the right frame of mind, I might’ve actually thought an embarrassed ogre was pretty funny.
“Please, Sweet, go inside, and I will join you shortly,” Bram said.
I turned on my heel and walked inside.
FOUR
I took a seat next to Sam at a table with a “Reserved” sign. As far as I was concerned, it was reserved for us.
“What do you want to drink?” I asked, practically screaming over the loud techno music. No Regrets was a pretty happening spot—it was maybe ten-thirty, and already, the place was packed.
“Vodka tonic please.”
I approached the bar, glancing over my shoulder at the throng of dancers on the floor. A black light sporadically spotlighted them, making them look like they were moving in slow motion.
“Hi Dulce, how’s it going?” Angela, the bartender asked. Leaning against the bar, she pushed her long electric blue bangs out of her face. Last time I’d seen her, her hair was bright yellow but still long in the front and butch short in the back.
I smiled. “Hi Angela, it’s going. How’s business?”
“Good, been real busy lately. What can I get for you?”
“Vodka tonic and a Mojito, please.”
She nodded and I felt Bram’s shadowy presence behind me. “That kiss was totally uncalled for,” I whispered.
“Ah, Dulce, I just could not help myself.”
I took my Mojito as Bram reached for Sam’s Vodka Tonic. I fished inside my purse, fingered my credit card, and tossed it on the bar. Angela reached for it but paused once Bram shook his head.
“It is on the house, Sweet,” he purred.
“Put them on the card, Angela. Thanks. And Bram, don’t pull another stunt like that again.”
Bram’s chuckle was deep. “Excuse me for offering to buy you a drink. If this is how you are with men, it’s no wonder I never see you on a date.”
“I was talking about the kiss, Bram.” I put the glass back on the bar, turning to face him. “And my personal life is none of your business.”
He took a step closer until I could smell the mint of his gum. “It is my business if I wish to be in it.”
“Ugh, would you get over yourself?” I turned on my heel and started for the table, but Bram’s hand on my arm stopped me. I turned around and something in his eyes pulled at me. I could read the desire in his gaze like I was reading a page in a book.
“What the hell was that, Bram?” I demanded through gritted teeth, pulling my arm away from him as if he were contagious. Vampires were notorious for pulling stunts with their eyes—persuading someone to take whatever actions the vampire desired. But, Bram wasn’t supposed to bewitch me with his eyes—I should’ve been too powerful to even get an inkling o
f the feeling he’d just sent me.
“It is my birthday in two months, Sweet.”
Great. Every hundred-year birthday would find a vampire stronger in all abilities—more physically powerful, more mentally capable of persuasion, and most got better looking.
“How old will you be?”
Bram grinned. “Three hundred.”
Crap, he’d be pretty powerful. Not that I was afraid of him—it just went to show that having Bram on my side was exactly where I wanted him. “Why’d you call me the other day?” I asked.
I scooted into the seat next to Sam and watched Bram gingerly hand her the vodka tonic. She nodded her thanks, and Bram pulled up a chair, sitting across from us.
“I had some news for you,” he said with a shrug.
“And what was that?” I asked, knowing information never came free from Bram.
“All in good time, Sweet,” Bram gave me a smile that had probably won him his last few bed partners.
The guy was smooth and, okay, hot—I’d give him that. But that was about all I’d give him. “Bram, what in the hell do you want?” I asked, watching him lean his elbows against the table as he grinned at me for a few seconds. “Hello? Earth to the most annoying vampire I’ve ever met.”
“I want some information, Dulcie O’Neil.”
“And what type of information would that be?”
He leaned back in the chair and eyed the room around him, as if counting the patrons. “Do you recall that abandoned building on Kiwi Street that has been vacant for two months?”
“The one that used to be the Chinese massage parlor?” Sam asked.
Bram nodded, his attention finally resting on me again. “Yes, that one.”
“So, what of it?” I asked, wondering what Bram had to do with a Chinese massage parlor. It sounded like the setup to a bad joke.
“Well,” he leaned back in his chair and cracked his knuckles. “I have been considering buying it to open a restaurant.”
“What does that have to do with me?” I snapped.
Someone had killed Fabian and I needed to find out who before the finger started to point at me. I didn’t have time for this crap.
“Patience, fairy. Patience.”
I narrowed my eyes and sipped my drink, counting to ten all the while.
“Get on with it,” Sam said. “Our Bram BS meter is nearing its limit.”
“You two are in a fine mood tonight.” He sighed. “I think, but I am not certain, that Dagan is going to try to beat me to the property.”
“Because he, a demon, wants a Chinese massage parlor?” I rolled my eyes. “I don’t know, Sam, maybe we should get in on it, too. What do you think?”
She shrugged. “I do like massages.”
Bram ignored us. “I got into a row the other day with Dagan, and I think he is trying to get even with me by taking the property out from underneath my nose.”
I sipped my drink. “So, let me repeat myself, what the hell does this have to do with me? Why should I give a crap? Because, in case you didn’t notice, I don’t.”
Bram just smiled. “I want you to find out if Dagan is planning on purchasing it.”
“And why do you think he’d tell me? Dagan and I aren’t friends by any stretch of the imagination.” The truth was that Dagan was usually on the wrong side of the law, but the only reason I cut him any sort of slack was due to the fact that he gave me lots of good leads. Hey, sometimes you’ve gotta work with the bad guys to get the even worse guys.
Bram continued to smile like his lips were paralyzed. “He has no reason to hide this from you…it is perfectly legal.”
“He has no reason to share his business dealings with me either.”
“I was thinking that perhaps Samantha might be able to influence him.”
Sam slammed her drink on the table, and it sloshed up and over the side of the rim, as if as outraged as she. “You want me to put a truth spell on a demon?”
Bram just nodded. The vampire had balls.
“No way,” I interrupted. “You must think we’re total idiots.”
“He would never know,” Bram continued. “And I do not think either one of you is an idiot.”
Sam gripped her glass so tight, her knuckles went white. “It’s too risky. If he found out, he’d kill us both.”
“How would he find out?” Bram continued, acting like he was asking us to figure out Dagan’s favorite color.
“How does anyone find anything out? It just happens and I don’t want to be on the end of that temper, thank you very much,” Sam snapped.
Bram quirked another winning smirk in Sam’s direction, no doubt hoping the amorous feelings she’d once harbored for him might serve him well. As her best friend, if I even saw a hint of that happening, I’d curtail it faster than Bram could piss me off again.
“Well, perhaps you wouldn’t need the spell. Just make small talk—see what he says,” Bram offered.
Small talk was doable. A spell on a demon wasn’t. “And if I just ask Dagan some questions, you’ll answer all my questions tonight?” I demanded.
“Yes. I trust your word, Dulcie. I know if you agree to something, you will honor it.”
Yeah, now I was thinking my great sense of honor was going to work against me. Dagan wasn’t someone you wanted to screw around with. Demons are notoriously short-tempered and they don’t get mad or even, they just kill you.
“Okay, I’ll talk to Dagan and see what I can find out,” I said. “Now, I have some questions for you.”
Bram grinned again, his fangs reflecting the low light of the room. As soon as his fangs surfaced, Sam immediately dropped her gaze, and I’d bet money she was thinking about the time she’d let him drink from her. She’d told me the day after it happened. Apparently, they’d been getting hot and heavy, and she’d let him take a little nip of her neck. As soon as he’d started drinking her blood, she’d had like four orgasms in a row. And they weren’t your normal, “this feels good” vibrator-type orgasm. They were mind-blowing, like nothing she’d ever felt before. I’ve never been with a vampire so, of course, I was eating her story up. But, even if it sounded good, I still had no interest in some corpse feeding off my neck.
“Ask away, my lady,” the corpse in question said.
“What do you know about Fabian’s death?”
Bram frowned, his brows knotting in the middle of his forehead. “Fabian died?”
“You’re a terrible actor, Bram,” I said with a sigh. Goddamn, I so didn’t have time to deal with this.
He held up his hands as if in submission. I knew better. Trusting Bram would be like trusting a rattlesnake. Fine and good until the thing sinks its fangs into your skin, and you’re dead an hour later.
“Ah, yes, now that I think about it, I had heard Fabian died.”
“Who told you?” I asked.
“Cannot say for sure. It was a general theme in here all night.”
“What did you hear about it?” Sam asked.
“Well, I heard Dulcie was the last to see him, and she was the only suspect.”
Hades be damned. Everyone seemed to be forgetting that I wasn’t the last to see him--the stranger had seen Fabian the same time I had. Course, all anyone had to go on there was my word.
“Dulcie didn’t do it,” Sam said, her mouth tight.
Bram grinned. “I did not say she did. I am merely repeating the rumors I have heard…as you requested.”
I gritted my teeth. “Go on.”
“Apparently Fabian bespelled you and turned you into something vulgar, and you were upset and came back and killed him. I cannot say I blame you. Life is better without Fabian.”
“I didn’t kill him.”
“I am sure you have wanted to over the years, Dulce?” he asked with a wicked grin.
“Not quite as much as some people I can think of.”
“Ah, Sweet, you and I go way back.”
I sighed. “Regardless, I’m not the one being questioned here. Do
you want that information about Dagan?” He nodded. “Yeah, then stop pissing me off.”
“Apologies,” he said, but the smile quirking his lips said he didn’t mean it.
“Okay, what do you know about a stranger in Splendor? Have you seen anyone new lately?”
Bram strummed his fingers along the table as if doing so would help him remember. “There was someone who came in the other night; he was asking for you actually.”
“What? Who?” I demanded.
Bram’s gaze followed a cocktail waitress as she delivered drinks to the table across from ours. Her boobs were hanging so far out of her shirt, they looked like they might fall out. And judging from the expression on Bram’s face, he hoped they would.
I cleared my throat, and he faced me, wetting his lips. “I did not get his name. He said he was passing through but did not give the nature of his business.”
“What did he look like?” Sam asked.
More fingers strumming along the table, the sound like a dull axe reverberating through my head.
“Dark hair and light eyes. Probably your type—resembled me.”
I glanced at Sam. “It was the stranger from Fabian’s.”
A shiver coursed through me like someone had stepped on my grave.
“Are you sure?” Sam asked.
I shrugged. “Who else would it be?” Then I faced Bram again. “How long was he here?”
“Not long. He came in, had a drink and asked Angela where he could find you.”
“And what did Angela tell him?”
“Perhaps you should ask her.” Bram steepled his fingers in his lap. Then he brought his index fingers together and held them out before him like two guns butting up against one another. “When you hold your fingers like this and focus on them both, it looks like there is a little sausage between them.”
“Bram, for Hades’ sake,” I started.
He dropped his fingers and faced me with a boyish twinkle in his eyes. It would’ve been charming if not for the fangs just cresting his lower lip.
“Talk to Angela, Sweet, she can give you the play by play.”
“I will. In the meantime, though, I’m sure you must’ve asked Angela what she told him?”