Fangs for Nothing (10 page)

Johnny smiled back at him. “That sounds about right for a Saturday night in New Orleans. Hope you’re having a good trip.”

“Oh, the best, absolutely the best.” He glanced at Lizette, who had turned her head and was still on her cell phone. “I’ll tell ya, you’re a lucky son of a gun. Your girlfriend is beautiful.”

“Thank you.” Johnny felt a ridiculous sense of pride, even though Lizette didn’t belong to him in any way.

“Here it is.” The man turned his camera and showed Johnny the image on the screen. “It was so real. My wife loved it!”

Holy fuck. Lizette was going to birth a cow. Johnny tried not to react, but it was hard not to at least go a little buggy-eyed as he stared at the picture of him biting Lizette’s neck, her eyes rolled back in ecstasy, blood trailing down the back of her shirt. The tourist’s wife was standing next to them grinning and pointing. Lizette was perched on a bucket, and in front of them was a pile of money on the street. Oh God, they had been charging tourists cash to watch him suck her blood.

“That is a great shot,” he told the man with as much enthusiasm as he could muster.

“How do you get the blood so realistic? I could swear it even smelled like blood.”

Johnny gave him a shaky smile and a wink. “Trade secret, buddy. Can’t give that away or we’ll be out of business.”

The tourist laughed. “Sure, sure, I understand. You want me to send you a copy of this picture? I can shoot it to you in an email.”

“Great, thanks.” Johnny gave him The Impalers email address and debated if he could get away with never telling Lizette about this. Ever. But he wasn’t about to turn down a copy of that picture. It was intensely erotic and he wanted to blow it up and study Lizette’s expression alone in a dark room.

“I’m Mike, by the way.”

Johnny exchanged a few more pleasantries with Mike, then said good-bye as the guy headed back into the bar to find his wife, probably excited to tell her that he had seen the fake vampires again. Little did he know.

Lizette put her phone away. “Who was that?”

Johnny wrestled for a few seconds, a little afraid of the fallout if he told her the truth. Yet he knew if she found out later she would decapitate him for not telling her. He kind of liked his head right where it was, so he cleared his throat as they started walking again and gave her a smile. He’d just ease into it. “Was that Dieter? Does he know anything?”

“No, that was his Parisian assistant.”

“Your assistant has an assistant?”

“
Oui.
So what is going on? Who was that man?”

There was no way out of it so he bit the bullet and tried to sound charming. “Well, the good news is I know where you got all that cash from and it wasn’t from stripping, if that’s what you were worried about.”

“Of course not!” she said, but she sounded relieved. “How did I get it?”

“It seems we set ourselves up on Bourbon Street with a bucket. You know, like the living statues who paint themselves silver or like a ghost and stand there and don’t move while people take their picture. They have a donation bucket out. Apparently we put out a donation bucket.”

Lizette gave him a look of bemused bewilderment. “Why would people pay to see us standing there? I doubt either one of us is that interesting standing on a bucket.”

“Speak for yourself,” he teased. “But um, well, the thing is . . . we seemed to be reenacting a vampire bite.” Reenacting. Actually doing it. Almost the same thing.

“What? What do you mean? Like how?”

“You know, like my fangs on your neck. Breaking your skin. Sucking whatever blood didn’t run down your shirt. You know. Like that.” Johnny braced himself for a second slap.

Fortunately, she appeared too stunned to even consider it. “Why would you do that? Are you insane?”

“I don’t know! Maybe we needed cab fare. You did freeze my assets.” He wasn’t going to take the full blame for this either. He dug out his phone to see if Mike had emailed him the picture yet. “Besides, you looked like you were enjoying yourself.” She did. So there.

“I highly doubt that!” she said with extreme indignation.

Thank God for technology and Mike’s eagerness. “Ha! Look at this!” Johnny shoved the image in her face. “Tell me you’re not enjoying that.”

She so clearly was, it made him horny all over again, if he had ever actually stopped. The way her head was thrown back in complete abandon, her eyes half-closed, tongue out on her bottom lip. It was the hottest thing he’d ever seen.

Lizette grabbed his phone and stared closer. Then the phone tumbled out of her hand down onto the sidewalk. “That isn’t me. That can’t be me. I would never . . . I couldn’t . . . it’s not possible . . .” Her voice trailed off, her eyes glazed, her free hand fluttered aimlessly over her chest.

After rescuing his phone and making sure it still worked despite the screen kissing the concrete, he eyeballed her, a little worried at her tone. “Do you need to stick your head between your legs or something?”

“Excuse me? How dare you!”

Maybe that didn’t sound right. “I don’t want you fainting!”

But Lizette was tugging at their attached wrists. “I want this thing off of me right now! I want away from you. I want to leave this street, this city, and go back to Paris.”

People were stopping to stare at them. Johnny gave the observers a casual smile. “She’s drunk,” he told them.

“I am not drunk!” She whacked his arm with her giant purse.

“Look, we’re home,” he told her, pointing to the door that led up to Saxon’s second-floor apartment. “Maybe we can talk about this inside. You know, away from total strangers.”

“As if it matters! After last night, apparently there is nothing left to hide!”

Yeah, she was flipping her wig. Johnny debated calling Stella or Dieter for backup, but Stella was busy with Zelda and he hated Dieter, purely on principle. He was on his own. “Lizette, obviously nothing bad happened last night, because we’re still here. No one is in jail or in a science lab, so let’s just go inside and keep it that way, okay?”

“Oh, now you are so reasonable?”

She was fairly quivering with indignation, and she was so tiny and cute that Johnny couldn’t help himself. He bent over and kissed the tip of her petite nose. “Yes. I’m being reasonable, so we should probably make note of this. It doesn’t happen all that often.”

His kiss rendered her speechless. She blinked up at him, eyes wide, mouth open, anger deflated. She murmured something in French.

“I know,” he told her soothingly. At some point he probably needed to confess that he didn’t speak French, but so far, it didn’t seem to matter. The extent of their conversations was about how he was screwing up and her fears of exposure. All he really needed to do was agree.

The nosy partiers had lost interest and had kept walking, so he took her hand, the one attached to his, and held it like they were teen lovers. It felt oddly comforting, and made the handcuffs irrelevant. He held open the door for her and led her into the courtyard. Up some groaning wooden steps and they were at Saxon’s front door. His apartment was essentially just a long narrow room, originally slaves’ quarters to the town house facing Dumaine. It was perfect for a vampire who didn’t want a lot of natural light, but it was too small for Johnny. He felt claustrophobic inside it, and the feeling immediately came over him as he pushed open the door.

“It isn’t locked?”

“Nah. Saxon doesn’t have much to steal and he could defend himself. He may look like a twelve-year-old girl, but he is an immortal.”

“That’s true.” Lizette looked around. “Well, obviously he is not here.”

“Yeah.” Johnny frowned at the empty room. “I am starting to get a little worried. I mean, I could see him coming back here to sleep or get some stuff, but where else would he be on his own wedding night? Everyone wants booty on their wedding night.”

“I think everyone got booty but him.”

Johnny laughed. “It was definitely a wedding to remember. Except no one remembers it.” He went over to Saxon’s tiny fridge. “Want a drink?” There was blood in there, and suddenly Johnny just wanted a drink and a cigarette. But he had quit smoking, so he would have to settle for a glass of red.

“I think perhaps that would be wise.” Then Lizette surprised him by opening her purse and pulling out the wad of cash. “I suppose we should split this, yes? I believe you earned it.”

Johnny grinned, but as he poured them both a drink into jelly jars from Saxon’s cupboard, he wondered if her thoughts were taking the same turn his were—straight back to the image of him biting her neck and drawing her blood into his mouth.

He wanted to bite her again. Now.

“Don’t even think about it,” she told him, proving that not only was she adorable, she could read minds as well.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he lied.

Chapter Eight

THE RAGIN’ CAJUN

“Y
OU
know, you’d think she’d have something basic I could wear. Sweatpants. Plain old jeans. Hell, a plain pair of black leather pants.”

Josie Lynn stood by the door, watching Drake rifle through Zelda’s closet like a teenage girl trying to choose a dress for the prom.

He pulled out another pair of pants. They were pink leather with silver studding around the pockets and down the leg.

“This is like the fourth pair of pink pants. She’s a dominatrix for God’s sake.” He shoved the pants back into the closet.

Josie Lynn could no longer suppress her amusement. She giggled.

He shot her a look. “What’s so funny?”

“You must be a nightmare to shop with,” she said, shaking her head and laughing again.

He looked grumpy for a moment, then he begrudgingly smiled.

“Well, I don’t usually buy clothing in the tacky section.” He pulled out a pair of silver, almost plastic-looking leggings to demonstrate his issue.

“But you are wandering around with your junk hanging out,” she said. “I think this is a prime example of beggars can’t be choosers.”

He shrugged, still not conceding she might have a point.

She levered herself away from the doorjamb and moved so she could see into the closet a little better, but still left plenty of space between herself and Drake. There were too many things that had happened between them for her to feel comfortable getting too close.

“Why don’t you just hand me something to bring the others?” she suggested. “They need to get Zelda to the hospital.”

Drake glanced at her, and she could tell he was undecided about letting her out of his sight. Clearly his admiration of how she’d wrangled the gator had worn off, and he was back to distrusting her.

“I’m not going to take off,” she assured him. “I have just as much reason to want to find those transvestites as you do.” Probably even more. Her name, her livelihood, everything rested on figuring out what had happened last night.

He nodded, and handed the silver leggings to her, then he grabbed a T-shirt that actually said,
DOMMES HAVE IT ALL TIED
UP.

She made a face as she took the garments. “Okay, she does have questionable taste.”

“Well, if you knew Saxon—the groom, you’d know that is really true.”

She looked down at the clothes, then asked, “Are you worried about your friend?”

Drake pulled out another pair of pants, these ones white with more metal studding. “Saxon? I’m sure he’ll turn up. This wouldn’t be the first time he’s gone missing. Last year, he disappeared for about a week. Turns out he got lost in Metairie.”

“Metairie—as in the suburb only a few miles from here?”

“That’s the one.”

“How did he manage that? Drugs? Drinking?”

He shook his head. “Nope, he was just going to Walmart. He gets confused sometimes. Well, a lot of the time. So aside from her abominable taste, I guess Zelda is good for him. At least she knows where she is most of the time.”

“Unfortunately, she doesn’t right now,” Josie Lynn said, then held up the clothes. “I better get these to your friends.”

“I’ll be right there,” he told her, his tone harder than it had been, and she realized he still didn’t trust her. And in truth, she supposed she didn’t blame him. If the tables were turned, she would think he looked pretty guilty, too.

So she was going to have to stay with him and figure this mess out. She paused on the way out of the room to snag a thick black belt, with studs of course, that was lying on the dresser.

The hallway was quiet. Waldo lay by the bathroom door, looking rather pathetic tied to the bathroom doorknob with his large snout wrapped in cord.

“Sorry, big guy,” she said on the way by him. “But you do live with a dominatrix. I suspect bondage is kind of par for the course around here.”

Waldo didn’t respond, not even with a blink of his reptilian eyes or a swish of his scaly tail, but Josie Lynn did hear something behind her. Expecting to see Drake already following her, she was surprised to see the hallway and bedroom door empty.

She must have heard Drake moving inside the room. She returned her attention to getting the clothes to Drake’s friends. Everyone seemed pretty confident that Zelda was okay, but they should probably hurry and get her checked out. Who knew what kind of drugs had been slipped in the punch, if that was even what they had been slipped into, and who knew how much Zelda had gotten.

She opened the dungeon door and hurried inside.

* * *

DRAKE DUCKED BACK
into Zelda’s bedroom before Josie Lynn could see him and paused, listening, hoping she’d continue talking to herself. Or Waldo, as the case may be. Talking sweetly to an alligator like she was talking to the family dog.

He had to admit, she didn’t seem like a hardened criminal. Or a criminal at all. Okay, she could wrestle an alligator, which was thoroughly impressive. And she definitely had no qualms about stating her mind. He was pretty sure neither of those things were on any lists of top traits for criminal offenders. But those two things made her interesting as hell. And very appealing—in this oddly paradoxical way. She was clearly tough, yet she had this sweet, angel face and soft, curvy body.

He just didn’t know. Maybe she wasn’t involved in the events of last night.

And maybe he was just getting suckered in by a lovely face and sexy body. God knows he had an MO for that sort of thing. How many of his worst choices in life were made because he’d fallen for a pretty face?

He looked down at his dick—blessedly flaccid at the moment, and it wasn’t many times in a man’s life that he thought that. But his buddy down there had made far too many of the most important life decisions for him.

“And you are not a good judge of character, my friend,” he informed his penis.

Still, he was having doubts about Josie Lynn’s guilt. He did see her take the money, but she hadn’t denied that fact. And while she did make and have access to the punch, she’d also made a valid point about that, too; dozens of people had had access to it.

He guessed that the only way he was going to figure out the truth was to find the gang of transvestites, and just to be safe, he was going to keep Cupcake with him. He was sure she wouldn’t like it. She’d made it abundantly clear last night and tonight that he was not one of her favorite people. But he couldn’t risk her possibly being a part of this mess and getting away with robbery. So they would go search the French Quarter for clues.

How hard could it be to find five drag queens dressed like Cher?

* * *

“SO HOW LONG
have you known Drake?” Katie asked as she hefted Zelda’s leg in the air.

Josie Lynn instantly felt her cheeks burn.

“Umm, I just met him last night.” She started to fidget with his pirate shirt, but caught herself.

“Well, welcome to the weird world of The Impalers.”

Josie Lynn frowned at Stella, who struggled to get the silver legging over one of Zelda’s large feet. “The Impalers?”

“Hold her leg still,” Stella told Katie, then answered Josie Lynn, “The Impalers is the name of the band that all of our boys are in. Wyatt, my boyfriend, plays rhythm guitar and tries to sing.” The redhead stopped her exertion to shoot Josie Lynn a conspiratorial smile. “Don’t tell him I said that. He thinks he’s got a great voice.”

Josie Lynn readily nodded, although she wondered when exactly she would ever meet her boyfriend. She didn’t expect to see these people again after tonight.

“And my husband,” Katie said, trying to get a better grip on Zelda’s long leg, “actually can sing. He’s the lead singer.”

Josie Lynn nodded, a little surprised and overwhelmed by the two women’s friendliness, but she supposed they didn’t know that Drake thought she was the villain of last night. They probably wouldn’t be so nice if they knew that. There was still every chance Drake might tell them, too. Not that any of that mattered as long as she found out the truth.

But even as her thoughts went to all those places, she found herself asking, “What does Drake play?”

“Oh, he’s the lead guitarist,” Katie said smiling at her. She had such a lovely smile. One of those smiles that made the person she was smiling at want to smile, too.

“Probably the best guitarist on Bourbon,” said Stella, still focused on dressing Zelda, a satisfied smile curving her lips as she finally managed to get the legging over Zelda’s foot. “Maybe even all of New Orleans. He’s amazingly talented.”

“Although he’d deny that,” Katie added. “He can be very humble about his talent.”

Humble? Josie Lynn hadn’t gotten that vibe from him. But these were his friends; they would see him differently than she would.

“But only about his talent,” Stella said, waiting for Katie to step over Zelda and raise her other leg. “About everything else, he can be pretty arrogant.”

“Well, I think that’s because of how he was raised, don’t you?” Katie said.

“Probably,” Stella agreed, then bit her lips as she concentrated on lining up the leg hole of the legging with other Zelda’s foot.

Again, almost against her will, Josie Lynn found herself asking, “How was he raised?”

Stella’s stopped her lining up, and Katie almost dropped Zelda’s leg. Josie Lynn didn’t miss the look the two women exchanged. They thought they had said too much.

“He was raised . . .” Katie looked at Stella for help.

“He was raised very privileged.”

Josie Lynn got the feeling that wasn’t exactly the word either of the women wanted to use, but she didn’t get the chance to ask more, because the door opened and the privileged Drake strode into the room. She was pretty sure none of them were thinking about his past now. All eyes and thoughts were locked on his outfit. Wow, and what a look it was.

He’d managed to find pants that fit him and that weren’t pink or white or sparkly. However, they were turquoise. Skintight, shiny, vinyl turquoise pants. And with that he wore a plain black T-shirt, except it was also skintight and had a low V-neck, exposing his lightly hairy chest. On his feet, he wore black flip-flops that were a little too small, so that his heels hung off the back, and there were silver metal studs along the straps.

Josie Lynn smiled despite herself. So he hadn’t totally avoided the studding.

“Drake,” Stella said, “you look so . . .”

“Fashion forward?” Katie suggested.

“That wasn’t exactly the description I would have gone for, but it will do,” Stella said, then laughed.

Katie smiled. Josie Lynn had already figured out the pretty blonde was too sweet to outright laugh at him. Josie Lynn didn’t have such qualms, but she did try to hide her amusement behind a hand.

“Laugh it up, ladies,” Drake said. “I can go back to wandering around with Mr. Big hanging out.”

He started to reach for the top button of the pants and all of them shouted, “No!”

He dropped his hands to hips. “Then don’t be mocking the look.”

Then to Josie Lynn’s utter surprise, he cat-walked over to join them, singing “I’m Sexy and I Know It.” She laughed again, as did the others. Clearly he didn’t really mind that they found his clothing amusing. He did, too. He may be arrogant, but he also didn’t take himself too seriously. She also learned that he couldn’t sing either.

He stopped his out-of-tune singing and asked how Zelda was. Then he crouched down to check Zelda, his fingers deftly finding her pulse. Again there was a confidence about him that Josie Lynn found very appealing.

“I think she’s fine,” he said to Katie, then smiled to reassure his friend. That smile was very, very appealing, too.

Stop it!
She didn’t want to find more things to like about this man, because she was far too attracted to him already. Yet here she was, finding him funny and sweet and totally sexy, while he thought she was a liar and a thief. Okay, a liar and a thief he’d do the dirty with, but not one he respected. Or believed.

Again, leave it to her to get all moony about a man who didn’t respect her in the least. Hmm, that was another pattern in her life, though, wasn’t it?

“I really think she’d just passed out,” he said after a minute. The vinyl of the turquoise pants creaked as he stood.

Katie straddled Zelda, her back to the prone woman’s face. She bent forward and grabbed both of Zelda’s ankles and yanked them upward. At the same time, Stella tugged the leggings up the unconscious woman’s legs toward her hips.

“Well, we’ll take her to the hospital anyway,” Stella said, then grunted slightly as she tried to get the pants the rest of the way under Zelda’s butt. “Better safe than sorry.”

Then she paused her pulling and added, “So why don’t you let us handle this, and maybe you two can start trying to figure out what happened to all of us.”

Stella raised an eyebrow at Drake when he didn’t react right away.

“Right,” Drake said, seeming to get the unspoken hint. He looked at Josie Lynn. “We do have some leads we need to follow.”

Josie Lynn waited for Drake to elaborate, to finally tell these women that he’d already figured out that she was involved in last night’s disaster. But instead he walked over to Josie Lynn.

“Are you ready to go see what we can find out?”

She nodded, wondering why he hadn’t shared what he’d seen last night.

He looked her up and down, his expression unreadable, and her stomach sank. Now he was going to announce her suspected involvement.

“You definitely pull off that shirt a lot better than I did.”

Josie Lynn stared at him, almost sagging with relief. “Th—thanks.”

“It looks cute,” Katie said. “That belt really works.”

“Yes, you can definitely pull off ‘pirate chic,’” Drake said with a slight smile. “But then you are already a pro at pillaging and plundering.”

Josie Lynn’s relieved expression disappeared. She shot an awkward glance toward the two women, who both looked curious about his comment. Josie Lynn waited with them for his explanation. The explanation that would definitely make her look guilty.

“Because she’s already stolen my heart,” he said pressing his hand to his chest in an overly dramatic way.