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Rage rushes through me at the thought. “Yeah, that’s her. Bella has an unofficial claim.”
“We don’t want to have to go on a damn murdering spree or start a blood feud, but any asshole who tries to bid will fucking get their dicks whacked off with my bluntest blade.” Monroe glowers at Mesquite. “Unless they make a deal.”
“What kind of deal? I might be interested in an arrangement. You know how this shithole needs something good to bring people in. The starting bid is reasonable enough that I bargained with some Strip dwellers to go all in for a five-year access to our facility, including gen. pop. blood.” He motions toward the donor in the speedo.
“Manage to claim a day of the week and agree to only blood, and you’ll get to keep your damn head and ten percent of our gen. pop. pool through blood bags once a month.” Monroe tugs out the small bag of fangs we collected and opens it. “You’ll also get guaranteed protection while she’s on site.”
“Access to her blood is good for one. That’s not going to bring my hotel guests.” Mesquite rubs his hand over his clean shaven face. “Throw in visual entertainment like what she does at Vampire Nights, and I’ll agree.”
“I could just fucking cut your head off now,” Monroe mutters, tightening his jaw.
I step between them. “We’ll take the deal if you agree to back us up and spread around the fucking warning about trying to put in a bid.”
He nods his head. “I’m always looking for a damn good reason to fight.”
A ring chimes through the air as all three of our com devices go off. The sound of another two from the casino drags my attention away from Mesquite and Monroe, and I watch two men pull out their old-ass phones from the back-world, still managing to be connected to the City Notification System.
I tap on the screen, my anger getting the best of me. It’s a reminder about the Vampire Nights auction with an adjustment in the time. The auction has been moved from next week and to tomorrow. Shit.
“We gotta go, Monroe. We’re running out of time,” I say, trying to suppress my anger. “We still have five other crews to negotiate with.”
Another chime rings through the air.
I snarl at the change of date once more. Swinging my fist, I smash it into the side of a slot machine. “He’s a fucking dead man.”
Staring at the notification, I can’t stop the wave of hopelessness crashing through me. Aris changed the auction time to start in ten minutes. Doors will lock in nine.
He’s forced our hand with a damn war.
We’re out of time.
