The guy right in front of him, a burly guy with grizzled cheeks and a buzz cut, swallowed. “D-don’t know you.”
Keenan’s hand lifted. Oh, to touch …
“Keenan,” Sam warned, “the dead can’t talk.”
The buzz-cut biker blanched.
His buddy, a tall, tattooed guy with a mop of curly red hair, startled to sidle away.
“I can kill you with less than a thought,” Keenan said.
Both men froze.
“Where is she?” he demanded.
The red-haired guy shook his head.
Wrong answer. Keenan grabbed a beer bottle, shattered the glass and pressed the jagged edge to buzz-cut’s throat. Since he wasn’t touching the guy directly, the biker wouldn’t die. Well, he wouldn’t die until Keenan sliced his throat wide open with that glass. “I’ll ask once more, then you’ll start bleeding.”
Sam reached for a glass of whiskey that had just been placed on the bar top. He drained it in one gulp, then swiped the back of his hand over his mouth. “Better tell him, he’s real good at killing.”
“Y-you talking about the vamp?” This came from the redhead.
“Shut up, Pete!” Buzz-cut snarled.
“They’ll kill us, Bo! I ain’t dying for—”
Ah, a weak link. Keenan kept his weapon on Bo, but turned his stare on Pete. “Are there a couple more members of your little gang still living? A member or two who took my vampire?”
Pete shook his head. “N-not us …”
“Bullshit.” From Sam. “I think you should slice this one for lying. A long slice right down his cheek.”
“Pete, shut the hell up! The vamp bitch deserves to die after what she did—”
“I’m not r-ready to d-die,” Pete stammered. He was younger than Bo. He didn’t have that hardened, been-to-hell look yet. Pete’s breath whispered out. “The other one—he took her. It was all his idea, using the fire, coming to that house. He’s the one who knew where you were.”
Sam lunged forward and jerked Bo away from Keenan.
“What are you—” Keenan began.
Sam slammed Bo’s head into the bar. Bo’s eyes rolled back into his head and when Sam lifted his hands, Bo slid to the floor in a heap. “Now we only have to deal with one.”
One who looked very, very scared.
“Who knew?” Keenan asked Pete, struggling for control. Wasting time. He needed to hurry.
“S-some Mexican. Car-Carlos … big guy, dark hair, said he’d been huntin’ the v-vamp.”
The thunder of Keenan’s heartbeat filled his ears.
“H-heard him t-tell Big Mike … he’d t-take her to St. Louis Cemetery and leave her—leave h-her to rot.”
“Ummm …” Sam lifted a brow. “I think that might be all he knows.”
Keenan’s fingers tightened around the bottle.
“Do we let him live?” Sam asked, eyeing the guy with a hard stare. “Or do we kill him?”
“Please …” Pete begged and the guy’s eyes were filling with tears.
Keenan stared at him. “You burned her. Your gang attacked a woman. You burned her.”
“I-I didn’t throw my bottle! I-I didn’t—”
“But you didn’t stop the others, did you?” Sam leaned in close. “You were right there for the party, and you didn’t help her out.”
Pete started to shake.
“If she’s not in that cemetery, if she’s not still alive in that cemetery …” Keenan ran the glass down Pete’s cheek and let the blood flow. “Then I’ll be back, and you will truly learn to beg.”
The guy’s face couldn’t get whiter. And he was one fast bleeder.
Keenan dropped the bottle.
But Sam caught it before the glass could shatter. Quick as a flash, he turned, and drove that broken bottle into Pete’s shoulder. Pete went down, screaming.
“That will teach you,” Sam said with his eyes slitting. “Next time, don’t just f**king watch while a woman burns.”
Keenan turned away from the screams. He’d taken two steps when the angel scent hit him. His gaze zeroed in on the shadows near the bar’s entrance. No, not near the entrance, blocking the entrance. “Don’t get in my way, Az.”
The shadows shifted. He glimpsed the wings. Az’s stark face. “You’re losing control,” Az warned.
Losing? Lost it.
“Soon you’ll be like him …”