Blood Work (27 page)

Erin
eventually battled her way to the bar and Ivan and Brad shifted so
she could squeeze in between them.

“My God, is it
always like this?” Erin asked, voice raised over the music and
shouting.

“It’s Friday,
so yeah,” Brad replied. He leaned over the bar and caught the eye
of a girl furiously serving drinks and held up three fingers. She
may have shouted something that was his name and a greeting, but
Erin couldn’t hear it. When the bartender had finished with her
customer, she pulled three water bottles from a fridge and handed
them over to Brad, taking his money without checking.

Grabbing her
water and taking a long drink, Erin surveyed the Fringe Bar. It was
a good looking place, recently done up. It was portioned off into
different areas, such as the Velvet and Lava Lounges. There was a
crowded dance floor and a couple of equally busy bars. The
customers were mainly in their early twenties, but there were a few
who looked much younger and some who looked way, way older.

“What’s the
game plan?” Ivan asked, leaning in to talk directly into her
ear.

“I guess we
just start talking about weird stuff. Hope the right person
overhears.”

Brad ran a
careful hand over his spiked, bleached blond hair and frowned.
“Werewolves and vampires and stuff? My reputation is going to get
shot in one night.”

“You didn’t
have to come,” Ivan said to him.

“Whatever. We
sticking together or splitting up?”

“Stick
together I guess,” Erin said. “We can talk amongst ourselves.
Better that than starting up a conversation with a stranger about
this stuff.”

“Righto. Let’s
go somewhere more talk friendly.”

Brad and Ivan
slithered their way to the Indigo Lounge. Erin followed in their
wake, trying to work out how they did it. By the time they reached
the alcove she still had no idea.

The Indigo
Lounge was furnished sparsely with low, purplish brown couches and
stools and lit by long blue lights. The three of them squeezed onto
one end of a long, curved couch. There were about a dozen people
lounging about in groups of three or four, talking and laughing and
sipping drinks. Erin felt severely underdressed, but when she’d
temporarily moved out of home she hadn’t expected to go clubbing.
The best she could do was a new pair of jeans and a black,
long-sleeved T-shirt. It wasn’t too bad, according to Ivan, but it
certainly wasn’t what the cool people were wearing. Ivan and Brad
had gussied themselves up into their grungy best, which meant jeans
and T-shirts, but somehow they made it look completely different to
Erin’s outfit.

“So, here we
are,” Ivan said blandly.

“Yeah. We’re
here,” Brad replied.

Erin groaned.
Looked like it was up to her to start the potentially embarrassing
discussion. Well, they’d pay for it. She turned to Ivan.

“Ivan, how’s
your aunt? You said she got bitten by a dog a couple of weeks
back.”

Ivan glared at
her. Brad hid a smile behind his water bottle.

“She’s great,”
Ivan said, his voice intentionally loud. “Of course, she’s been
acting awfully strange lately. Very irrational.”

“Jeez,” Brad
whispered. “For a guy who wants to be an actor, you’re doing a
really crap job.”

Erin jabbed
Brad in the ribs and gave him a pointed look. He looked contrite,
then said, “Irrational, huh? In what way?”

“Oh, you know,
foaming at the mouth, being violent. That sort of stuff.”

“That’s
rabies,” Erin muttered.

“I panicked! I
can’t do this without a script or rehearsal time.”

They’d
garnered some curious and mildly perplexed looks, so Erin herded
the boys out of there and they tried the Velvet Lounge. It went
better, though it didn’t net them a card with Night Call’s details,
so they moved back to the main bar. Here, they repeated their
little act each time the faces around them switched out for new
ones. After about an hour, the bartender who’d given Brad the
drinks came over.

“Couldn’t help
but overhear what you’ve been talking about,” she said, tone flat,
gaze pointed. “If you’re after Roberts, he isn’t in tonight.”

“Roberts?
Would that be Robert Robertson?” Erin asked the bar tender.

“Dunno. He
just calls himself Roberts. He’s a rep for a couple of companies.
Comes in with freebies and competitions and stuff. He also takes an
interest in strange conversations, like the one you guys have been
having over and over.” She added the last in a dry voice.

“You don’t
know if he’ll be in tonight?”

She shrugged.
“He keeps his own schedule. Sometimes he’s here, sometimes he’s
not. If you’re going to wait, I’ll send him over if he comes
in.”

“Thank you,
I’d appreciate that.”

“Well, well,”
Brad said. “Bit of luck there. You know, I could have just asked
Jodie in the first place and we wouldn’t have had to make fools of
ourselves.”

Erin ignored
him. “It’s about time we caught some luck on this case,” she said
to Ivan.

“What are you
talking about? You got lucky at lunch. He fell right into your lap.
But you let him get away because his flirting embarrassed you.”

Maybe she’d do
better to ignore them both. She slid off her stool. “I’m going to
the toilet.”

The line for
the ladies was pretty long, but Erin waited it out and finally got
in. She was coming out when a giant of a man bumped into her. It
sent her into the wall with enough force to knock some of the air
out of her. A big hand snapped out and caught her elbow, holding
her steady.

“I am so
sorry,” the man rumbled in a deep voice. “Are you all right?”

Erin nodded.
“I’m fine, thanks. Maybe you could just look where you’re going
from now on.”

“Allow me to
buy you a drink to make up for it.”

She looked him
over properly. He was tall and wide, but in a solid, muscular
manner. His hand wrapped around her arm and his fingers overlapped.
He wore a long, black coat over a pair of dark pants that looked
like the bottom half of a karate gi and a dark silk shirt. He was
perhaps pushing the upper end of his thirties, with pale, smooth
skin and thick masses of dark, curling hair. Nice, but…

“No thanks.
I’m with some friends.” She began to walk away.

“I know.”

That stopped
her. “Sorry?”

“I saw you at
the bar with your friends” He put a slight emphasis on the last
word, made it sound dubious. “They did not strike me as suitable
companions for yourself.” His gaze deliberately and languidly
dropped down over her body and back up. “You need someone more
capable of protecting you from the world.”

Erin tried not
to laugh in his… pectorals. She was nowhere near tall enough to
laugh in his face. “And you’re the man for the job? Please. The
last guy who flirted with me at least offered me a seafood
dinner.”

The big guy
planted a hand on the wall behind her and leaned over. Erin reached
for her gun, which she’d left in the office.

“But could he
protect you from werewolves?”

Goosebumps
rose on her skin and a little chill went down her spine.
“Werewolves?”

“Isn’t that
what you and your… friends were talking about at the bar?”

Erin
swallowed, trying to disperse the sudden tension in her neck. “We
were. You know about them?”

“I do.” He
smiled, slow and deliberate. “I also know about Night Call.”

Heart
thumping, Erin asked, “Can you tell me about him?”

He nodded.
“Not here though. Somewhere quiet.”

“I’ll meet you
outside in ten minutes.” Erin ducked under his arm. “What’s your
name?”

“You can call
me Martin.” His hand snaked out and caught her arm again. “I will
escort you out now.”

“I have to get
my friends.” She tried to break his hold but while it wasn’t tight,
it was firm. “Let me go.”

He pulled her
back and shoved her against the wall. There was nothing she could
do. He probably weighed nearly twice as much as she did and he was
all muscle. His body pushed against her, pinning her in place, his
head bowed close to her neck. To anyone around them, they looked
like any other intimate couple catching a quiet moment away from
the noise.

“Get off me.”
Fear made her voice grate. She tried to push him off but she may as
well have been pushing against a brick wall. “I’ll scream if you
don’t fucking move right now.”

“Now, Erin, is
that anyway to talk to me?”

His voice
dropped even lower, rumbling through his chest. It rolled over her,
making her shiver from shoulders to toes. Her body loosened against
her will, relaxed into his.

“Much better.
We are going to walk out of here now. You are not going to talk to
your friends, you are not going to talk to anyone else. Do you
understand?”

Did he even
need to ask? She nodded.

Martin leaned
down and pressed his mouth to her neck. “Good. Let us leave.”

They cut
straight through the crowd with no problems. People just melted out
of Martin’s way and Erin trotted along in his wake, one hand held
firmly in his. It felt so good, so secure. He would protect her
from werewolves. He would keep her safe from everything.

Outside, the
night air was chilly. She shivered and Martin tucked her into the
side of his big coat, close to the heat of his body, guiding her
down the street. People were everywhere, walking from one club to
the next, hailing taxis, calling to each other across the street.
As in the bar, they automatically moved out the way, giving Martin
a wide berth. Erin smiled. She was the one with him, not them. Poor
souls.

They turned up
a side road. It was dark and narrow but Martin was there, he would
keep her safe. In the deepest shadows, he stopped and pushed her
against the wall. She pulled him to her, reaching up to put her
arms around his thick neck. He put a big hand on the small of her
back, holding her still with frightful ease. She moaned. He was so
strong.

“Tell me about
the Night Caller,” he whispered.

“I don’t know
any Night Caller.”

“Yes you do.
You’ve been trying to find him. Who are you working for?”

“Mm… I work
for Sol Investigations. I’m tracking down a missing person.” And
she’d met him, today, at lunch. He’d smiled at her. A beautiful,
wide smile that transformed his face into something bright and fun
and sexy.

Erin gasped.
Hawkins. She was supposed to be asking this guy about him, not the
other way around. Then she realised where she was, how she was
standing.

“Oh my God.”
She shoved against Martin. “How did I get here? What are you
doing?”

Martin hissed
and held her tighter. He grabbed her jaw and forced her to look at
him. Holy crap. His eyes were silver, reflective.

“You have a
strong mind,” he muttered, searching her face. “Or something else
broke the compulsion.”

“Compulsion?”
Erin tried to look away, but he wouldn’t budge. He was so strong.
Her stomach dropped in fear.

Those bright,
glittering eyes narrowed. Something cold washed over her. It
tingled over her skin, sapped all the strength from her body. Her
eyes unfocused and it suddenly became very hard to think.

“Tell me about
Night Call.”

She didn’t
want to, she shouldn’t. There was the matter of client
confidentiality. Mrs Veilchen wouldn’t like it if she told this guy
about Matthew Hawkins. Poor Hawkins. What horrible things he’d been
through. But he was a violent man, too. So much anger inside of
him. It was sad.

“Who is Mrs
Veilchen?”

How did he
know about her client? Strange woman. Remote, very cold. Great
shoes though. Erin wished she could afford such shoes. She wouldn’t
be stuck wearing her thick heeled, practical work shoes to
nightclubs if she could afford something as nice as those strappy
little things Mrs Veilchen had on. She pictured the shoes, then the
long legs, the thin body, elegantly narrow face and don’t forget
those ridiculously large sunglasses.

Martin sucked
in a sharp breath. She jerked against him, his hand pulling her
hair, exposing her neck. He grazed his teeth over the skin of her
throat.

“Where can I
find Hawkins?”

Where? She had
no bloody idea. The man was too good at covering his trail. Too
good at disappearing without a trace. And then he had the nerve to
just drop out of the blue and flirt with her. It had been so
beautiful at that pub on the beach. Redcliffe was so peaceful.
Maybe she should go back there and sit at the pub and wait for him.
He would come back, surely. That smile. She wanted to see that
smile again.

“Thank you,
Erin,” Martin whispered against her neck. Her whole body shook.
“You’ve been very helpful.”

He licked the
pulse under her left ear and made a thick, rumbling sound deep in
his throat. Then his mouth opened and she pressed herself into his
bite.

“You know, I don’t think this is
working,” Roberts muttered. He turned the car down another street.
“If they’re here, wouldn’t Mercy have sensed them by now? We’ve
been all over this place. I’m running low on petrol.”

I shone the
torch at the map. “You should have filled up when I said.”

He grumbled
something I couldn’t be bothered listening too. Four hours of
Roberts bitching was more than enough for me. I was starting to
think I shouldn’t have called him and just come out in the Monaro.
But there was no way in hell I would ever put roof racks on the
Monaro, and Mercy did like to have something to hold on to.

I thumped the
base of the torch into the roof of the car. Roberts scowled at
me.

Mercy’s face
appeared in my window, upside down, curling hair tossing in the
wind created by the moving car.

“Get
anything?” I asked her.