Page 28 of Dance for the Dragon
Kohl frowned down at his screen, then texted back.
I was going to take you to dinner. A real one this time. But go ahead and eat if you’re hungry.
Her answer brought on a swift intake of breath and a rush of blood to his groin area.
That’s not what I’m hungry for…
When he didn’t respond, she followed up with?—
Sorry if that was too forward of me, but it’s true.
And how he loved her honesty. Kohl quickly told her he’d be there as soon as he could, and went back to work. But his head wasn’t in it. As a matter of fact, his body wasn’t, either, and he dropped more than one glass and mixed up three orders in the hour it took for Andrew to return. Good thing he didn’t count on tip money to support himself.
Andrew returned in the nick of time, and as soon as he transferred the pending drink orders over to him, Kohl rushed out of the bar and down to his room to change from his white button-down and tie into a long-sleeved, black cotton shirt. He didn’t bother changing the black jeans and boots he was wearing.
As Kohl was going out, Jaz opened the door that led to the club, coming in. He stepped inside the caverns and stopped, letting the door swing shut behind him. Pulling the soda straw he was chewing on out of his mouth, he whistled. “Hoo-ee! Look at you! All in a hurry. Where ya goin’, Kohl?”
It appeared Jaz was in a talkative mood. An occasion that was rare, and Kohl forced himself to slow down. “Just going to hang out with a friend. How are you doing?” Luckily, Jaz hadn’t been inside the club when the shooting went down, but Kohl still felt the need to check in with him.
Jaz smiled, baring his one good fang. “I’m good. I’m good. Except,”—his eyes widened like some sort of bad Charles Manson imitation—“I don’t even know what you are.”
“You know what I am, Jaz,” Kohl said. Despite his best intentions, he was quickly getting bored with this conversation, and just wanted to get the hell out of there. They had this same discussion at least a few times a week. Jaz sensed something was different with Kohl, but his memory—or lack thereof—didn’t always let him remember. Kohl always knew when it was happening, because he would feel the vampire’s eyes on him everywhere he went until, eventually, Jaz would come ask him.
Jaz’s long, black hair fell forward to partially cover his smirk as he scuffed the floor with the toe of his biker boot. “Maybe I do and maybe I don’t. I think you just don’t trust me. But the Master trusts me, and he sent me to check in with you about our little witness the other night.”
Kohl found that hard to believe. More like Jaz overheard something and couldn’t stand being left out, so he’d taken it upon himself to check in on things. “I’m a vampire. Just like you.” He paused. “And you can tell the Master I’m working on it.” He went to walk around him, then stopped. “Actually, I’ll tell him myself when I see him.” Jaz probably wouldn’t remember this conversation, anyway. Shouldering past, he went back into the club, around the bar, and down the opposite hallway.
Out back, he pulled his bike out of the storage garage where he kept it. Texting Devon to tell her he was on his way, he hit the throttle, spraying gravel in every direction as he finally got out of there and on the road to Austin.
Run-ins with Jaz were always disturbing. He wasn’t sure what it was. Maybe because Jaz always seemed nervous around him, like he was afraid of him, even though Kohl had never so much as raised his voice with him. It wasn’t the vampire half Jaz was afraid of. It was the beast. And he was right to be afraid. It only left ashes and scorched destruction behind.
He was a selfish bastard to bring that thing anywhere around Devon.
Kohl shut those thoughts down. He couldn’t think about what he was doing too closely. He couldn’t. Because if he did, he would turn his Harley around and go back to the caverns. Instead, he let the cold wind suspend any doubts he might have, and before he knew it, he was pulling into her apartments.
He smelled it as soon as he entered the interior hallway—spearmint gum and the faint stench of lead—and it got stronger the closer he got to Devon’s door. Along with a scent that hadn’t been there before. A male. Human, from what he could tell. Without bothering to knock, he opened her door and stepped inside.
The scent was very strong now.
“Devon? Devon!”
She came out of her bedroom, dressed in a gray-blue sweater and black leggings with a pattern in the same color. Combat boots were on her feet, and her hair was down. Her naturally sweet scent was mixed with something like almonds, and Kohl was temporarily distracted from the hunt as it wafted over him, but not for long.
She smiled at him, and then frowned. “How did you get in? Hey, did you break my lock?” Her tone wasn’t quite angry, just a bit annoyed.
Kohl shook his head. “Who was in your apartment today?”
“What?”
“Who was in here? Was there a maintenance guy here or something? Cable guy?”
She walked past him and checked her door.
“It wasn’t locked, Devon.”
“It wasn’t?” She closed the door and locked it, then turned and slapped her palm against her forehead. “Oh, that’s right. Frank.”
“Who is Frank?”
