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“Of course she is,” he says, grinning.

I roll my eyes. “Do we have the names of these men?”

“I do. I don’t know if they are their real ones, but they are registered in the hotel under them.” Ryker hands me a piece of paper.

“This is too easy,” I mumble.

“I don’t think they are too smart, considering it has taken them years to get this close to Saylor.” Bash leads the way out the door.

“I should have gotten more information from her,” I admit as we get in my truck.

“Little too late now,” Bash pointed out.

“That’s super helpful,” I growl, and he shrugs. “I can’t believe I’m going hunting with two vampires.”

“What is your problem with our kind?” Bash asks.

“Fuck off.” No way in hell I’m telling him anything.

“Just curious.”

“Don’t be,” I snap.

“Will killing them help your mood?” Ryker asks.

“Yes. Yes, it will. Can we shut the fuck up and do that now?” I glare at them both.

“Sure,” they say at the same time.

There is no good ending to a joke about two vampires and a cheetah walking into a hotel—except a bloody one.

“Why do they always cry?” I moan.

“It’s my least favorite part,” Ryker sighs.

“Why don’t we just kill them and get it over with?” Bash asks, leaning against the wall of Ryker’s torture dungeon in the basement of his club, swinging his huge fucking hammer back and forth.

“I think we can get some information from them. I think they want to live.” I look back and forth between the two men hanging beside each other.

It was ridiculously easy to overpower them. They were in their room, eating. Of course, the two ancient vampires almost scared them into complete compliance. I’m trying not to be offended. I did get a few hits in. I really did.

After they were unconscious, getting them into the back of my truck was easy. It was handy to have Ryker and Bash to mind-fuck any human witnesses. Vampires have the little trick of being able to change the memories of humans and some weak-minded shifters. They can make them remember and do whatever they want.

I’m not bitter about that, either.

“So, Fred and Sam,” I hiss. “Are those your real names?”

“Fuck you,” Fred spits.

“You aren't very cooperative for a man tied to the ceiling with chains.” I move over to the crying one. “You, on the other hand, Sam, seem like you want to get out of those chains.”

“Why did you take us?” he whimpers.

“Well, Sam,” I whisper, my face close. “You came here for a reason. You came here looking for someone.”

“You mean, Saylor?”

“Yes,” I confirm.