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“I forgot to change when I got home. ”
“You thought to put on fuck-me pumps but not to change your bloody shirt?” She laughed, slapping her palm on the table. I saw Owen turn, his gaze fixed on her, an admiring smile on his lips. “Owen!” She looked at him, failing to realize he’d been watching her the whole time. “You still got those shirts Sam used to make the weekend girls wear?”
I didn’t like the sound of that.
He rummaged under the counter without asking her any details and came up with a tank top in his hand. He walked over to us and held the shirt out for her assessment. It was a skimpy spaghetti-strapped black tank with white printing that read—Fat Sam’s: Helping People Forget Their Problems Since 1964.
“Jesus,” I hissed.
Owen left it on the table, and Mercedes pushed it towards me. “It’s that or walk around looking like a crime scene. ” She pointed to my chest, which could have given a blood-spatter analyst a hard-on.
I glared at her, then tossed back my shot for a hit of instant courage. Without waiting to see if the coast was clear, I stripped off my ruined yellow shirt and was in the process of putting the new one on when I heard the chorus of appreciative cheers from the boys at the bar. One of them looked Owen dead in the eyes and said, “This is the greatest bar in the world. ”
At least I had worn a bra.
Mercedes grinned and saluted me with her pint glass.
“Now tell me who came to see you,” I said, getting our conversation back on track. Alcohol from the shot was whipping through my system at breakneck speed, making my head feel light. One of the blessings of my condition was that things like alcohol and coffee, the two greatest legal drugs on the market, acted extra fast. They also lasted for far less time, so I almost never got a chance to feel the hangover dregs or caffeine crashes.
“Lucas Fucking Rain, for one. ” She said it like fucking was actually his middle name. “He nearly gave the front-desk girl a heart attack when he told her his name. ”
If it was the same front-desk girl I’d met on several occasions, I was sorry he hadn’t finished the job. She was a snotty little thing, and there was no love lost between us.
“Must have made you popular. ”
“Lucas Rain comes to the homicide department to ask about a missing girl? Yeah. Some knob in my department seemed to think that particular tidbit was fair game for Page Six. Poor Kellen Rain was the target of some pretty scandalous blind-item gossip. Something like Real Estate Heiress’s Brother Talks to Cops: Bad News Beauty in More Than a Little Trouble?”
From what I’d read about Kellen Rain, she was no stranger to being the center of attention. Page Six worshipped her antics, and she put most other spoiled party girls to shame with her drinking, sleeping around and general destruction of public property.
“What did you tell him?”
“I told him you were safe and you’d come home when you were ready. ”
“And he left it at that?”
“He’s a proud man, Secret, and he’s richer than God. He didn’t try to bribe me, but I think he was testing the water to see if I might bite if he did. ”
“Cedes, he could have bought you a penthouse on Central Park West without blinking. You should have let him bribe you. ”
She laughed again, and I took a long swig of beer. It was cold and dark, and I could almost hear Irish tin whistles while I drank. It felt thick and cloying on my tongue. I loved it.
“He certainly didn’t like it when I sent him on his merry way without any information. For the life of me, I don’t know why you would run away and not take him with you. He is one hell of a good-looking man. ”
I smiled and drank a little more but said nothing one way or the other.
“And your vampire came by a few days ago. ”
I coughed and beer actually came out my nose as I attempted to stop choking. Had I heard her right? There was only one vampire Mercedes could be talking about, the only one I’d ever introduced her to and vouched for. She hated vampires, so he would also be the only one she would allow around her, all because I told her he was safe.
Holden had gone to see Mercedes, knowing she hated him, to try and find me?
Or, if he was a rogue like the Tribunal was claiming, was he finding people close to me and stalking them to smoke me out? Was his visit to Mercedes a veiled threat on her life? Was Holden telling me I needed to be on guard?
The thought of people I cared about being at risk because someone I once trusted might be turning his back on me sent a chill into my core. I used my old shirt to wipe beer off my face, and Mercedes stopped laughing when she saw the seriousness of my expression.
“What? I thought he was your partner or something. ”
I shook my head, the chill refusing to leave me. “What did he say?”
