Page 1 of Taste of Blood
1: Cord
THE STEADY THRUM of the bass melds with the heartbeat of a hundred souls, all vying for a connection. Any other time I’d relish the press of willing bodies, choosing one–or several–to while away the night, but I’m not here for enjoyment. My intel pointed me to this club on this night because the one I seek is a creature of habit. Don’t these guys ever learn?
I scan the heaving bodies on the dance floor again, extending my senses for him as I down the drink in my hand and set the glass on the bar. The buzz, while minor, takes the edge off the fact that I haven’t fed tonight. It’s a bad habit I’ve been warned about more than once, but I find I hunt more effectively when I’m hungry.
“Wanna dance?”
I stare at the woman who appears in front of me, downshifting out of my head. She’s on the thin side, with a shock of bright red hair and a skirt that barely covers her ass. I suppose some might call her pretty. Too bad for her I’m not wired that way.
“No thanks.”
“You’ve got the most amazing eyes. I’ve always loved blue eyes with black hair.”
Seeing she isn’t going to take no for an answer, I brush past her without bothering to acknowledge the compliment. Not like I haven’t heard it before. I plunge into the herd on the dancefloor, scanning the faces around me until I spot the one I’m looking for. He’s holed up in one of the dimly-lit booths that rim the perimeter of the club, holding court with three vacant-eyed young women who he’s no doubt plied with enough drugs and alcohol to erase any misgivings they might have for the danger he poses to them. I push my way through the crowd and stop in front of his table, waiting for his attention.
“Can I help you?” he asks in a posh British accent, his dark eyes regarding me lazily.
“Scoot over, let him in,” one of the women giggles.
Another one, who was busy sucking his face, glances up at me and grins. “Yeah, Tony, he’s cute.”
When he realizes I’m not leaving, Tony, as he’s calling himself, pushes her away from him and sits forward. “Seriously, piss off.”
I lean over, placing my hands on the table in front of him, and grin, though there’s nothing pleasant about my expression. “Sorry,Tony, but I can’t do that. In fact, this will go a lot easier if you just come with me.”
“I told you, piss off.”
“That’s not going to happen. I really don’t want to make a scene here, but don’t mistake that for me not giving a damn. I’ll even give you a chance to say good night to your lady friends, but you are coming with me.Now.”
To emphasize my meaning, I throw a little will behind my command. His eyes widen for a second, then narrow as the truth begins to dawn on him. “I didn’t do anything.”
“You can plead your case to Dante. Now let’s go.”
The woman who was sucking his face grabs his arm and pulls him closer. I’d wager she isn’t even legal in here. “Are you in trouble, Tony?”
He smiles at her and pats the hand around his arm. “It’s nothing, love. I’ll be back before you know it.” He reaches intohis wallet and pulls out a few bills, tossing them on the table. “Buy yourselves another round.”
He stands up and buttons his jacket before offering me a grim smile. “Let’s go, then.”
To be honest, I didn’t think he’d come this easily. The file I have on him mentioned he was a repeat offender and had even escaped custody twice. I’m determined this isn’t going to be a third time.
When he steps around the table, I grab his arm and pull it behind his back. “What the hell?” he protests. “I said I was coming.”
“Just want to make sure you don’t change your mind.”
I push him forward, leading him around the dance floor toward the exit. There’s a bottleneck as we approach the bar that forces us to slow, and he turns back to me. “I’ve got money. I can set you up–”
“Not interested.”
“Come on, there has to be something you want.”
I roll my eyes. “Yeah, I want to get out of here. Now walk.”
I don’t trust this fucker any farther than I can throw him, but the crowded conditions in the club make it impossible to restrain him right now. First rule of the Clan: don’t attract attention. That’s why Tony–aka, William Devine–is in his current predicament. He’s left a trail of clues behind in his debauchery, and while an occasional slip up can be tolerated, he demonstrated a complete lack of control in his interactions with humans. All it takes is for one open-minded detective to put the pieces together, and our entire existence would be exposed. Luckily, the man I work for has an army of fixers who can erase transgressions, but that doesn’t mean he forgives them. Devine is costing him money, and Dante hates losing money.
As soon as we’re out the door, I pull a pair of charmed zip-tie cuffs out of my pocket and slip them around his wrists. I’mnot taking any chances with this one. I push him down the street past the line of people waiting to get into the club.
“This is totally unnecessary,” he grumbles.
