Page 2 of Inked & Bloodbound

I run my hand over the rough stubble on my jawline and try a different tactic. "Did you clock that blonde at the table? She looks like a casual bleeder to me."

He nods, running his fingernails along the edge of his beer label. "Yeah, she's got to be the same age as Meg. One of the guys playing pool is wearing a St. Edward's shirt. I could ask if they know her, I guess. What makes you think she's a bleeder?"

I point discreetly. "All the marks on her legs. See the little ones on her inner thighs? Someone's been drinking from her femoral artery. You see them? They look like thumbprints."

He looks over at the blonde, then back at me with utter contempt. "Disgusting." He shakes his head. "She's so young. That's someone's daughter, for God's sake."

"She seems pretty willing to me. They usually are."

It's Beau's turn to look at me like he wants me dead, his jaw muscles twitching like he has insects jumping under his skin. I shouldn't have said anything. I know better than that. Not when his daughter is still missing. Probably drugged up and hooked up to anIV in a basement somewhere, checked out and brain-dead while creatures like me slowly suck the life out of her.

Megan is the only family he has left, and I know he’d do anything to find her, even if that means hauling me to this bar for tiny scraps of useless information. It doesn't matter to him. He wants to feel like he's keeping her alive.

"I'm sorry, Beau. I was out of line," I say, and I mean it. I may have an obligation to find his daughter, but that doesn't mean I'm not sympathetic to his cause.

He gives my apology a tiny nod of acknowledgment, and when I'm confident that he isn't about to leap across the table and drive a stake through my ribcage, I change the subject.

"I'll go back and try again. I'll find another way in. No matter what it takes. Trust me. We'll bring her home."

"All right." His voice is gruff but tinged with gratitude. "I got a little something for you too. An of out-of-towner was looking for you. Dressed fancy. Young. Not too much trouble. He went down easy."

I swallow. "This vampire...was he trustworthy? Why would he just offer this information to you?"

"I waterboarded him with holy water." He shrugs.

The mental image makes me cringe. "You’re a sick son of a bitch. How do you dream this stuff up?"

"I hate y'all more than anything in the world, and it keeps me creative," he says with a proud smile.

"And I thought we were supposed to be the evil ones."

For a moment the tension between us eases. We can pretend we're not sworn enemies. We let the silence fall between us, heavy but no longer barbed.

Eventually, Beau pushes his empty beer bottle across the table. The tiny pieces of the shredded label settle into the grooves of the wood like paper snow.

"We should leave separately," he announces, standing up from the bench. "Give it ten minutes, and then you can go."

I nod. "All right. Stay in touch. Send me a text if you need to. Not everything has to be an in-person meeting. Remember, if I getcaught, you'll have to blackmail another vampire and start all over again."

He rolls his eyes as he turns his back, but I think he got the message.

Before he walks out the door, something stops him. He turns and approaches the bleeder blonde, who's scrolling through her phone. When the jock steps away to line up a shot, Beau moves in. He pulls out his phone, shows her the screen—Megan's photo, no doubt—and murmurs in her ear. The girl squints at it, swaying as she shakes her head no. His shoulders slump as he presses a business card to her palm.

Poor bastard.

When the door swings shut behind him, sending a wave of fresh air into this fetid dive, I start counting. Ten minutes stretches like an eternity, but I force myself to wait, finishing up my sketch of the girl at the window. Her golden hair catching the light that trails outside. When I finally step out of the darkness, I can't resist making a detour past the pool table.

The blonde is hanging off the jock's arm now, rolling Beau's card into the tip of a messy joint between her fingers. As I pass, I lean in just close enough to be heard.

"Watch out for those arteries in your legs," I murmur. "That's a very sensitive spot. You can bleed out if you're not careful."

She blinks up at me, pupils dilated with more than just alcohol. A slow smile spreads across her pretty, round face as she processes what I've said.

"You want a taste, handsome?" she whispers in a sickly southern drawl, tilting her head to expose the pale column of her throat. "I only charge two hundred for a feed, but shit, since you look like that, I might just let you suck it for free."

"I'm good, thanks," I reply, stepping back. She has no idea who she's playing with.

That's when her jock boyfriend notices me. He tosses his pool cue, closing the distance between us with the swagger of someone who's never faced a real threat.