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13
Tarnley
I’m a movie buff. I’ve seen damn near every classic, be it a romantic comedy, action, adventure, western, science fiction—and damn near every single one makes the male lead look like a buffoon when in love.
Star-struck almost. I used to laugh about it, mock it, but now? I completely get it. As I make my way in to open my bar for the afternoon, I’m pretty damn sure I have a skip in my step and stars in my eyes.
And why wouldn’t I?
Bronywyn is safe; at least one of the council members who wanted her dead is gone, and while I doubt we’ve seen the last of them, we now have time to deal with wherever the dominos fall this next round.
I toss my jacket onto the bar top and move quickly through the room, putting chairs back down onto the floor. My regular bartender won’t be here until four, so I typically man the place until then. And since most of the ones that come in between now and then are regulars, it’s easy enough to manage on my own.
After getting the chairs settled, I head back around the bar and set out some clean glasses for the group I sense approaching the tunnel door. Within seconds, the panel slides open, and four vampires walk in.
“Morning, boss.” Brad, the manager for my cleaning business comes in with three of the other vampires who work directly beneath him. They take seats at the bar, and I set out glasses for each of them.
“What can I get you guys?”
“I’m good.” Steven, the one on the far end holds up a hand. “Had breakfast this morning.”
“Leave them alive?”
“I did,” he replies. “Long time human girlfriend.” He winks. “She loves to fuck, and I love to drink, works out for both of us.”
After pouring the other three some blood from my stash, I lean against my back counter and face off with the only vampires I know I can trust.
“Any particular reason you called us in this morning? I can’t imagine it’s for our sparkling company,” Brad states as he takes a drink. “At least, not theirs.”
“Steven’s girlfriend hasn’t ever complained about me,” Kline jokes.
“Fuck you. You’re just jealous because even the undead broads want nothing to do with you,” Kline shoots back.
Lance, one of the newer vamps on Brad’s elected managerial team, throws his head back and laughs. “I don’t think Kline could even get a succubus to suck his cock if he bartered his life for it.”
“We get it; you’re all jealous of Kline’s cock. Can we change the subject now?” Brad asks. All three men fall silent. He turns back to me. “What’s up?” “We’ve got a potential problem on our hands, and I want it dealt with. Quietly.”
“What problem?”
“You all have met Winnie McCallan, Bronywyn’s housekeeper?”
“Hell yeah,” Steven replies. “She makes the best damn French toast in the country. Gave me some the last time I helped Bronywyn with security at her clinic.”
I’m not even mildly surprised. Winnie is a mother to all she meets. Which makes the fact that she felt threatened even more upsetting. “She was followed this morning. Unknown male vampire.”
All four of the men straighten in their seats. “She get a description?” Kline asks.
I nod. “Said he was about my height, dark hair, red eyes. Wasn’t much more.”
“Shit, that’s half the vampires in the city.” Brad runs a hand over his sandy brown hair. “Going to take us some time to track him down.”
“Probably.”
“You going to alert the Astor sisters? Might be good to get some hunters in on this as well. More eyes and all that.”
“Bronywyn will more than likely be telling them, but if not, I’ll be sure and let them know.”
Brad nods and downs the rest of his drink. “You and the witch on better terms now?”
