Louisiana Moon (18 page)

As she drove, she sensed expectation from Darin. “What?”

“What’s it like? Being part wolf?”

A question no one had ever asked before. How could she explain? “You know there are werewolves. Well, there are two kinds. The normal, like humans, live everyday lives trying to fit in. They mate, making more of our kind.”

Darin said nothing, so she continued, “Then there’s the royal bloodline.”

“Your bloodline.”

“Yes.”

“Royals can control their shifts, live for hundreds of years. The normals cannot and turn once a month on the full moon.”

He rubbed his hand across his stubbled chin. “So you can control your shifting ability?”

“Yes. It’s hard, but yes. I find the more I shift, the more trouble it stirs up. I try to not shift. You know, to fit in with human civilization, like a normal.” Why in the hell had she made that last statement? It was like she admitted a weakness.

“If I could shift, I’d shift all the time.”

She blinked. “Shifting isn’t easy. There’s a lot of excruciating pain involved. The next day I feel like I’ve been drinking and kickboxing all night.”

“I could handle it.”

He sounded confident, not cocky but he didn’t have a clue as to what it was really like.

A few minutes later, she turned down a lone street. Trash littered the sides of the road. Prostitutes stood on corners. Her gut coiled. A thick invisible layer of some magic or spell, kind of like at the hell house, raised hackles on the nape of her neck.

17

Joe’s Bar offered a calm atmosphere, which was strange after the ominous effects outside. Kris scanned the interior. The few customers immersed in conversation sat at the bar with afternoon drinks and seemed regular enough. They puffed on cheap cigars and the smoke stunk.

“Let me look at the picture,” Darin whispered as he slid the paper from her grip.

The face on the paper she had memorized down to the scar above the man’s upper lip. Kris looked at the bartender, who swabbed a glass clean with a rag. And in return, he watched her as her strides led her across the wooden floor. She halted in front of the bar, placing her hands down firmly over the cool metal edge.

The man smirked as if he made her out as a pretty little lady who couldn’t hold a drink. “May I help you, darlin’?” His big pirate earrings jiggled as he continued cleaning.

She stared at him. His mustache-covered lips widened, revealing yellow, stained teeth. Decades of smoking reeked from him. She didn’t want to be in the man’s face much longer. “Yeah, looking for a man. Have you seen any recently?”

The man shook his head, scrunching his lips as he watched his hands circling the glass.

A lie. As she glanced about the room, she tapped fingers on the bar, searching for the fae. Her gaze narrowed from one person to the next. A few people stood in the corner throwing darts. The lone man at a close-by table didn’t fit the profile. The corner booth, opposite the dartboard, had a couple sipping drinks. The man at the booth had the same moss green eyes, but nothing more.

Kris turned back to the bartender. He worked on a new glass. As she watched the man’s deep russet eyes, she slipped the picture out of Darin’s hand.

“Are you sure you haven’t seen this man? Take a close look.” The man eyed her out of the corner of his eye. “See his slightly-pointed ears, sharp nose and dark green eyes? You can’t miss him.” She waggled the picture in front his face.

He shrugged and went back to cleaning. Maybe she’d have better luck shoving the paper down his throat.

“You’re barking up the wrong tree, lady. I don’t know this person, never seen this person, which means I can’t help. Do you want a drink or not? If not, get out.” He hiked a thumb toward the door.

His gaze lowered, so did hers, to a metal baseball bat. No chance in hell could the man grab it fast enough. He jerked in the direction.

She growled.

His trembling hand stopped a few inches from the bat.

“That’s right, I’m wolf. Where’s the fae?”

“I uh…I uh.” He swallowed over his rapidly bobbing Adam’s apple. “I believe I may have seen him.”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

The barkeep’s stare drifted to her right. A long James Dean poster was stuck to the wall. A shadow beneath the poster moved. James Dean hid a door? “What’s behind the poster?”

He licked his lips. “A room.”

How informative. Can we have another for four hundred?
“What kind of room?”

“A room for private members.” His answer was rushed.

Kris looked at Darin, nodding at the door. “Go see if there’s a knob.”

He ambled over and stopped in front of the poster. As she watched his actions from her peripheral, she kept her gaze on the barkeep. Darin moved his hands over the picture, careful not to make noise. He looked over his shoulder and shook his head
.

Well, shit. “How do you get into the other room?”

When the bartender hesitated, the wolf growled. “You have to press on the door,” he hastened to say.

Funny how small, flaring tempers made people spill information. He looked half-relieved, half-scared.

She pulled out her gun, holding her wrist for a steady aim and whispered to Darin, “Push on the door.”

He counted to three with his fingers and jammed his fingers down. The door flung open. Cigarette smoke poured out, wafting around their faces. She ducked and crept forward. Several men sat at a table. They held their arms in the air, cards in hand. Their heads bent low, shielding their faces. She eased around the table, examining faces, with the barrel pointing at each one as she went along. The fae wasn’t there. Was there a backdoor?

She tiptoed to a doorframe blocked with a black curtain. Shoving the wall, she edged the barrel through the slit, held her breath and yanked the curtain to the side. The man she hunted for sprang from stacked boxes, straight for her face. She shot and missed, the bullet plowing into the back wall.

Not slowing as he neared her, he slammed into her and knocked her to the floor. Her butt slapped against the hard cement floor, and her breath punched out of her lungs. The .40 skittered across the room and stopped near the table as her head connected with the concrete. The fae howled in a high-pitched whine and continued to scratch her face.

Darin ran from the door, jumping on the man’s back. The fae flung him across the room and Darin fell flat on the table, breaking it into kindling. The five men around the table pushed their chairs out, threw their cards to the floor and bolted.

Kris screamed, fighting off the fae. He whacked her over the head with a broken table piece. The wallop hurt like hell, leaving bright stars dancing before her eyes.

Darin lay on his back, groaning as he clutched his side. Her muscles tensed. The fae lurched, extending his fingers as if he planned to shred her into tiny pieces. Like silly putty, his face lengthened over sharpened teeth.

What the hell?

She’d never seen a fae fight instead of fleeing. Like the past few times she’d captured a fae who had escaped their bonds, they always surrendered. She brought her knees into her chest. The fae reached the soles of her shoes, and she pushed with brute strength, shoving him backward, smashing a hole around him as he sank and disappeared into the drywall. She jumped to her feet and crouched in a martial arts stance, ready to continue to fight.

The fae flew out of the wall toward her.

She clasped her hands around his neck to hold him off. His claws dug into her face, leaving burning scratch marks over her cheeks. Reversing, she stepped on the discarded cards, lost her grip and her feet slid from beneath her. No. This wasn’t happening.

She looped her arms around the fae’s and twisted, sent him in a barrel roll away from the gun, and then she scrambled for it. As she reached for the weapon, a solid strike hit the middle of her back and pain soared down her spine like rippling cracks. She cringed, her breath rushing from her lungs. Deep inside, the wolf emitted a surge of energy to assist her.

As the fae held a handful of her hair and yanked, he opened his mouth. Sharp teeth glistened with saliva ready to bite into her neck.
Oh shit. What is he? Some freaking vampire fae?

Just before his teeth clamped on her, he jerked and screeched, flung his head backward. Kris twisted to see what had gotten him to leave.

Darin held a board over his head, and the fae pressed his hand over his neck. A stream of pink blood oozed from between his fingers. Darin raced toward the man, ready to strike again.

The fae’s eyes glowed an eerie green and he attacked, scratching Darin, sending matching marks over his face and arms. He managed a punch, making the fae double. With his face twisted in pain, he stood and bear hugged Darin. The snapping of his ribs cracked like a gunshot. Darin screamed.

They both collapsed to the floor.

Kris scrambled for her gun once more and aimed at the fae’s head. “Fucking stop, you bastard! Stop, or I’ll shoot your ass.”

The fae turned his head, snarling and showing razor sharp teeth. He wore a smirk as he opened his mouth wide and chomped on Darin’s arm. In return Darin clamped his teeth and pounded his fist on the fae’s head.

Kris shot the damn fae in a kneecap several times, sending the thing plummeting to the other side of Darin. The fae lifted onto his elbows, then fell as his arms gave out and when he went down, didn’t get back up again. The rise and fall of his chest told her he was still alive. She could now take him into custody and deposit him for money. Not enough money for the shit he’d put her through.

As she got to her feet, she held the .40 aimed at him. Panting, she withdrew the cuffs from her back pocket. After she stepped over a few timbers, she reached the fae and bent low slapping the cuffs on his skinny wrists. She tugged on the metal for extra reassurance. He groaned. The urge to kick him in the ribs for the hassle he’d caused overcame her.

To pound him in the head nearly overruled her need for money when she looked over at Darin. He lay on his side in the fetal position. The muscles in his face were scrunched as he cradled his midsection. The claw marks on his face and arms bled with no signs of stopping anytime soon.

Once she was sure the fae was secure, she crossed to Darin and knelt by his side. “You okay?” She smoothed a blond lock from his eye.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine.” His voice sounded rough, like it hurt to talk.

Kris shook her head. “Come on, we need to take him to the sheriff’s department then I’ll get you to the hospital.”

She looped an arm through his, pulled him off the floor. He winced and grabbed his ribs. For a man of many muscles, she lifted him easily. On quivering legs, he bent over, holding his stomach and arm. She wiped sawdust off his back and side.

She yanked the fae off the floor and checked his wounds. Some had closed, pushing the bullets out. Good. The fae healed as fast as she did, if not faster.

With Darin staggering along behind her, Kris left the backroom with the fae in tow. She stopped and studied the bartender. Positive he’d give her answers now, she asked, “Do you know a Stanley Adams or a Vanessa Adams?”

He laced his tongue over his mouth. The bar lights glistened over his trembling, sweaty upper lip. Would he tell the truth? “Yes, ma’am.”

Ma’am. Damn, she hadn’t been called ma’am in years.

“Well, which one, Stanley or Vanessa?”

“Stanley.”

A lead. “When was the last time you saw him?”

“A week ago, at night. He sat in the far corner with another man I’ve never noticed before.”

“How often does he come in here?”

The fae wiggled. Kris tightened her grip and pulled up on the cuffs to add extra pressure to keep him immobilized.

The bartender shifted his weight. “Not a lot here lately, but he used to come in about three times a week.”

“I’m going to give you a contact number. Call me the next time he shows.”

The man nodded. “I’ll call you.”

Good. She’d tamed another wild one. She slipped a business card from her back pocket and slapped it onto the bar. “Don’t forget and don’t make me come back here to remind you.” She cocked an eyebrow, giving him a warning.