Human Interaction (15 page)

He snorted in answer.

"Okay. Okay. Meat asked me to come tonight."

Ducian gave me the once-over. "He mentioned you went out to eat. Spent his bet winnings."

I nodded. "But we only went to a pasta place. I think the total bill was less than twenty dollars."

"That bastard." He growled, frowning harshly at my words.

"What?" I couldn't fathom why he would be upset over that.

"Told me that he went five star and collected one hundred from me." He glanced over the nearby crowd then the stage.

"Oh." Feeling guilty, I unzipped the top of my purse and started digging.

Ducian's attention returned to me. "Now what are you doing?"

I kept searching. "I'm going to write you a check for eighty dollars. I would give you cash, but I don't carry that much with me. Of course, I can give you the ten I have with me and the rest in a check…"

His mouth gaped open for a few beats in astonishment before a slow smile blossomed into a chuckle. "Princess, you're a gem."

"But…"

He waved one hand dismissively. "Keep your money. If I was that needy, I would get it from Meat, bastard that he is. But, I don't need it, so forget it."

Confused, I asked for clarification. "So… you're angry with Meat for lying?"

He shrugged and a lopsided smile popped onto his face. "Nah. Nice prank on his part. I was the dumb one to fall for it. No matter. You know what they say about paybacks." His eyes sparked.

"Ummm. Okay." I zipped my purse again, not sure what to say.
Men things. Very odd.

Checking out the stage, Ducian snagged my arm. "Come on, Goldilocks. Let's get you to your knight in shining armor."

"He's not my knight in shining armor," I protested, trotting to keep up with his long strides through the masses of people.

"Sure."

"It was just one date, dang it. We didn't even do anything. Dinner, ice cream, the Game of Life. That was it," I explained in a huff.

He stopped so suddenly, I nearly ran into the back of him. "You didn't…?"

I shook my head. "Not even a real kiss."

A slow, wicked smile returned to his face. "Well, damn. Guess the overgrown putty cat is losing his touch." Almost pulling off a nice Tweety impression, he walked to the nearest door and stopped, raising one hand to knock. Voices carried through the wooden door from inside. Meeting one another's gaze, we remained silent and leaned in, easily hearing the conversation through the thin wall between us.

"Not that it's any of your business, but we didn't have sex last night." Meat's baritone carried loudly.

A familiar female voice replied. "Then you aren't mates."

"You know how this works as well as I do, Misha." His tone grew a bit frustrated.

I could hear her heels click a couple of steps in the small room. "But if you were mates, she'd be all over you. Her hormones would drive her to you and your bed. Didn't you say she hasn't been with a man in four years?" A pause followed. "Any woman would be starved for sex just from the drought period. Even if she was one of those exceedingly rare humans that are mates for our kind"—her tone implied that was a sheer impossibility—"she would be all over you, all the more for her long time going without."

"Maybe." Flippant. "This discussion is getting old."

"Think about it. It doesn't make sense that she's not all over you like a hungry bear on a beehive. She would pounce on you, begging you to screw her brains out. Not playing some stupid board games like a kindergartener."

"I'm sure there are reasons." Meat retorted, his tone all matter of fact. "Besides, it was only the first date. A mating could still occur."

"And how long are you going to wait for that to happen?"

More silence.

"If I were you, I would drag her to some hotel, fuck her, get her out of your system, and move on. You're wasting your time with her."

"I can be patient."

She continued. "You said she was a widow."

Misha must have decided to change tactics. I could see Meat crossing his arms over his chest and nodding down to her in my mind. Typical male posture when being lectured by a female.

"What would you say if I told you it's not true?"

My mouth fell open. Ducian tensed at my side. Looking up, I saw his face pinch. Resting my hand on his arm, I shook my head. As much as I wanted to storm in the room and sock the Marilyn look-alike, I wanted to hear her lies all the more.

"What do you mean?" Meat's voice dripped growing tension and suspicion.

"I did some checking. She gets a monthly deposit into a bank account in her name as well as her sons' names."

"She works for the PPD. I'm sure they have advanced technologically enough to have direct deposit." A snort followed.

"No. There's a separate account for that. This account traces back to another country. And the deposits are made by a Wills McDaniel, her husband." Her voice kicked up while drawing out the final words. Papers shuffled and rustled. "Her Enforcer husband."

I saw red.
What account?
I didn't know of any account like that. And, if there was, why would someone use Wills' name? Surely, the PPD would oversee such things when it came to their fallen warriors?

How many hundreds of hours had I looked for any trace of Wills? Every tiny scrap of rumor, I followed to exhaustion. If such a money trail existed, I would have come across it. I harassed the Division for information, denied harshly and abruptly each and every time with the same old spiel about missing and presumed dead. I had no proof he was gone, but no proof that he still lived either. All I had was the word of his employers, and two children at home who would grow up never knowing their father. After years, I made the hardest decision of my life. I could either continue my endless and heart wrenching search or I could pick up my life or head a new direction.

"The bank doesn't lie. It's all in black and white."

"Why would she lie?" Meat's voice faltered, as in disbelief mixed with embedded rising angst.

"My guess is she's using you. Trying to put another notch on her belt, crowing at the possibility of capturing a hunk such as you. With you on her arm, she would be the social talk of the town, not to mention the fringe benefits of your exceptional skills in the bedroom." Her voice purred over that statement, becoming a smidgen muffled. "Or, perhaps…" She dragged out a long pause. "Spying. You know lots of people, vampires, shifters, humans, you name it. You're in a position of power. Information. Information that she can obtain from you to pass on to her husband. He'll take that same information to infiltrate and destroy your friends, co-workers, maybe even our pride members. Spy games," she declared. "More than one Enforcer has worked for the other side, infiltrating in order to seize data and turn it over to those radicals wishing all shifters long dead, paying out huge sums along the way. More than one Enforcer has switched loyalties to line his pockets."

The silence filled with tension. "Come on, Tyger. The facts don't lie."

He cleared his throat.

"How long have you known me, Tyger? Have I ever lied to you?"

"No." The growl rumbled through the door.

"Why would I lie to you about this?" The heels clicked once more. "I have documents, proof. It's all there in front of you. She's using you."

"I don't believe it. Not until I have time to look through everything and make my own conclusions."

"Until then, you're going to let her just use you, then? Let the
familia
suffer because this human makes your dick hard? Seems pretty dumb to me." Her voice took on a snarky tone.

"I told you, I'll look into this. Later." The final word came across as a dismissal.

Footsteps echoed once more. "Fine. Don't come crying to me when I told you so."

The door opened so fast, Ducian and I nearly were bowled over. Jumping back, the blond vampire pressed me against the wall, shielding me from whoever stepped from the small room by wrapping me in a tight embrace, his head lowering as if he were kissing me with heavy passion. After a long moment, I heard the person move farther away and risked a peek around Ducian's shoulder. Misha flounced down the hallway to the staircase, her movements stiff, a sure indicator of her present emotional state.

"What are you two doing?"

"Nothing." Ducian spoke first, quickly unraveling from around me, but keeping an arm wrapped around my shoulder.

Meat's eyebrow shot up, his gaze flicking between us both before landing directly on me in a long stare.

I squirmed. "Not eavesdropping. Nope. I was…" I bit my lip and glanced up at Ducky. He grinned, but kept annoyingly mute. Frantically, I searched my brain for any excuse, stumbling through ideas until one blurted from my mouth. "I wanted you for dessert."

His blue eyes sparkled as the corner of his mouth twitched. Ducian covered his laugh with a hacking cough.

My words replayed in my mind. "That isn't quite right. I wanted dessert and to see you. Not to have you for dessert."

Stepping forward, the liger brushed his nose against mine. "I think you were right the first time."

Yikes.

"Looks like I'm a third wheel. My next dance set is coming up anyway." Ducian gave me a squeeze. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do." With a quick waggle of his eyebrows, he sauntered a couple doors down, then disappeared into a side room.

"Eavesdropping?"

"Not intentionally. It just happened."

We stared at one another for a long moment before I whispered, "Misha's lying."

"Listening in on private conversations is always a bad idea. This is none of your business." He shook his head when I opened my mouth. "No. I'm not going to discuss this."

"But, it does concern me." I crossed my arms over my chest and frowned up at him.

"I said no. Besides, I have to get dressed for my next set." He shot me a stern look then turned back to the dressing room.

Irritation sparked. "We need to talk about this. Misha's lying. She's just jealous and needy." I sucked in air. "You believe her over me."

"I didn't say that. Now can you just drop it?" He sighed tiredly. "I don't have the time or energy for this right now." Throwing up his arms, he walked back to the door, opening it widely. "I'm fed up with women for one night."

With those words he shut the door firmly behind him, in essence ending our conversation.

Annoyed and a tad bit angry at his curt dismissal, I tromped down the hall, jogged down the stairs, and marched right out of the establishment, straight to my car. Tossing in my purse, I started the engine and drove off.

What paperwork did Misha have? How could she have copies of my bank statements? Well, come to think of it, that wouldn't be too hard if you were a thief or a hacker. Still, I wanted to get my hands on her so-called proof. Examine the documents for myself. If they had anything to do with Wills…

Shutting down the spark of hope, I returned my attention to Meat. He'd sat and listened to Misha spout her lies. Yet, he had refused to let me have my say? To allow me the opportunity to figure out what in the world the old biddy referred to. He had said he believed in me. Sorta. That counted for something.

I liked the man. Maybe even more than liked. Heck, I dreamed of a relationship with someone like him for four long years. Now, a blonde bombshell with the heart of a weasel tried to place herself between Meat and I like a wedge. No way. I wasn't about to let Misha ruin my chances at a great relationship. Our budding romance deserved a chance.

Less than a mile away from the club, I turned around and headed back. While still smarting from Misha's words, I needed to discover the source of the problem. Talk to Meat. Make sure we're back on track if we ever derailed in the first place.

Then I would personally kick one blonde bimbo's ass.

CHAPTER 14

Flying into the parking lot, I quickly parked the car and grabbed my purse.

Odd thing about anger. It consumed, not allowing a person to think or divert attention to anything else. All energy, thoughts, and movements were converged on the object of such ire. Ordinarily, this mechanism worked fairly well. A person went in, said their piece, rant, rave, whatever worked. Anger was vented, life went onward.

Unfortunately, with my profession and certain inherent dangers lurking in Clearwater City, particularly after dark, focused rage opened doors that should be nailed shut for all time.

Stepping out of the car, I flung the door shut, turned and ran directly into a hard, unmoving body.

"What do we have here?" the accented voice sneered.

Glancing up, I discovered four men surrounding me. Not ordinary slime balls that I might meet who wanted to steal my purse. Not even close. These were tall, built, and flashed fangs; they were after something more precious than my wallet. My blood and my life.

I've met some of the local vampires, seen most of them. None of this particular group looked familiar and, in fact, as a whole stuck out like a sore thumb. Instead of a sense of fashion and an air of aristocracy, these men led me to think of ghettos, gangs, and sheer violence. Clothes hung from thin bodies, dank and torn. Long wavy hair reached well below collar level on each one. The evil look in their eyes told me power and terror led them to such extremes, not simple survival.

In reality, the blockheads needn't to kill for a meal. The entire vampire realm had established blood banks eons ago, hoping to deter their kind from live prey and the sheer temptation of taking too much of the offered bounty. Heck, the fast food restaurant of vampy-land,
Fangs Fill
, stood on nearly every corner block, complete with drive-thru service. Those who preferred a fresher, warm, and waiting entrée found legions of women and plenty of men as well, obsessed with taking the position of Dracula's bride at least for a night. Boiled down, too many options existed for vampires to suck humans dry. Those who did held other agendas and issues.

"Excuse me." I tried to step around them only to have the closest one grab my arm, clasping tight enough to bruise.