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“Dead serious.” My word choice made me wince. The student’s lifeless eyes flashed in my recent memory. “I want to see you. I need you to meet me somewhere. It’s important.”

“Important like you’re-in-trouble important, or important like you’re-bored-and-want-company important? Because if it’s the second one, I’m hanging up.”

I could picture her sprawled out on my bed in those black silk pajamas she loved. “I’m not in trouble. I just want you to come and be with me. I need you.”

That gets her attention. “You need me?”

“Yes. I want to go inside this club, and I don’t want to go in alone. I need backup, and you’re the only one I can ask.” This wasn’t entirely true. I could ask Donté.

“Where?”

“A nightclub called Bailar Caliente on the West Side. Wear something sexy. Something...” I search for the right word. “You can dance in.”

Morgan chuckled. “Sexy? Dance? Harlen, can you dance?”

“I can do a lot of things.” I teased.

“You know what I mean. Dress like you’re there to dance, have fun, and make out with your boyfriend.”

“My boyfriend?”

I was just now realizing we hadn’t put a label on our relationship. After I was turned, things like that seemed so trivial. “Yeah, your boyfriend.”

“Fine. But you’re buying me a lot of drinks, and you’re going to tell me exactly what this is about when I get there.”

I hesitated. I couldn’t tell her everything about Teresa. Not yet. I could never tell her about the dead student. “I’ll explain everything I can. Just trust me, okay?”

There was a pause, long enough that I wondered if she’d hung up on me. Then: “Wait. This club isn’t some sort of vampire den or something?”

“No, that would be The Castle.” I joked.

“Funny.”

“Morgan. It wouldn’t matter. I would never let anything happen to you. You know that, right?”

“I know. I need thirty minutes to shower and dress. And this better not be some bullshit, Harlen.”

“It’s not. I’m sitting outside the club, and I can’t leave this location. I need to send a driver for you.”

“A driver?”

“No, not a car service. Someone on Zand’s security staff.”

“A vampire?” I heard her sigh.

“Do you prefer a human?”

“I guess it doesn’t matter. There are vampires everywhere.”

“Where are you? Where should I send the car? Text me when you’re close.” I ended the call before she could ask more questions.

My mind raced while I sat in the sedan. I should call Natasha and tell her about the body. But there’s a larger game at play here, and I needed to understand the pieces before I made a move. Why was Teresa at a Mexican club? Why did Teresa kill a college student? None of it made sense.

As I gripped the steering wheel, I checked the time. Nearly 12:25 PM. The club would be open for at least another two hours. Enough time to go in and see if Teresa the ripper was inside. I hoped to get another glimpse of her.

A few minutes later, Morgan arrived at the club entrance in a dress that made me forget, for half a second, why we’re here. The crimson fabric cling to her curves like it was painted on. The color was vivid against her olive skin.

One of Zand’s security men idled at the curb in a black SUV until I reached Morgan. His eyes scanned the street with practiced vigilance before he pulled away. Morgan’s gray eyes flicked over me with amusement. “Okay, boyfriend,” she said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.