The blue top and the black pants were what I chose to wear. I wasn't sure if I'd ever worn anything that I liked so much or had more than likely cost so much. The shoes were Christian Louboutin, in black with a kitten heel. The bag came from Saks, so some money or serious plastic had changed hands. I French-braided my hair, too. An old friend I worked with at the courthouse had shown me how, once. Gloria was a tall black woman who had enough confidence and charisma for six ordinary people. I always admired her for speaking her mind and having what it took to look everybody in the eye when she said it. Gloria never minced words and she could braid hair better than anybody I'd ever met.
Too bad I didn't have any earrings, they might have completed the outfit but I was hoarding the four thousand dollars in cash I still had left. I had no idea if or when I would find myself on the streets again. Winkler seemed satisfied with what he saw when I showed up inside the house a little while later. "You clean up nice," Phil wandered out of the kitchen carrying a sandwich on a plate in one hand and a soda in the other. I wanted to snap at him for some reason.
Don's Cadillac came to mind when Davis drove a new model around front and I was more than happy to sit in the back seat on the drive to Dallas this time. I also listened in on his and Winkler's conversation, learning only then that little miss spread-legs from the bar was a spy of some sort. Since Davis had been in the house all night, she hadn't been able to poke around like she wanted.
"She came out twice, once to get a drink in the kitchen and the second time to find the bathroom down the hall. That's what made me suspicious," Davis observed after Winkler said that Phil had gotten information on her. The bathroom inside Winkler's suite should have been just fine. She was an industrial spy, I learned, and was thinking about how far over my head all that was. Her real name was Merlia Tomkins. Yeah. Merlia. Mer-lee-uh. Go figure.
Winkler had seats on the first row, of course, so close to the team we could reach out and tap them on the shoulder if we wanted. Just before the game started, Winkler's face and mine were splashed across the screen at the top of the arena for the entire nation to see. Lovely. Just f**king lovely. If Ed and Serge had any idea what I looked like now and just happened to be watching, well, ESPN was about to get me killed. Plus, I was hungry, my stomach clenching in near-pain. There'd been no time to feed before we left for the game and I desperately needed my blood fix. No way could I ever be vegetarian; I was hooked on a protein diet now. Excusing myself at the beginning of the second quarter, I rose from my seat, telling Winkler that I had to visit the ladies' room. That was the first time I drank from a woman. The guys might have welcomed me in the men's room, but it would have been much more noticeable. If I'd been giving the males orgasms, the girls got them too, I learned.
My blood donor was plump and pretty, dressed in a white and blue Mavs jersey with Dirk Nowitzki's name spelled across the back. She'd stepped inside the handicapped stall (more room, you know). I moved so fast nobody could see me and got her as she was sitting down. I had to cover her mouth; she wanted to moan with her orgasm. I licked her neck afterward—I'd noticed the punctures healed up almost instantly when I did that. My donor blinked and nodded when I whispered the instructions to forget about me. I stepped out the door first, washed my hands and returned to my seat beside Winkler.
"You're going to be on national television," Winkler observed and leaned over to kiss me. Our faces were spread across the giant screen at the top of the arena during a lull in the game. The cameras were searching for couples to kiss while the lenses were trained on them. Forced to smile afterward, Winkler went one better and rubbed my nose with his. The crowd loved it. I was scared witless.
"I can't say I'm all that pleased about it," I grumbled in Winkler's ear. He laughed. The Mavericks played Golden State that night and trampled all over them. Davis and I had to fend a few people off Winkler as we made our way to the car after the game, but the drive home was uneventful.
Chapter 4
"So, this is the young man?" Gavin paced the length of the teen's small bedroom. The boy was sitting at his computer, swallowing with difficulty as the tall, wide-shouldered man examined him and growled.
"Yes." Harry might have been sweating, just as the boy was, if he'd been able. The Council had sent an Assassin. Harry expected an Enforcer to come after he'd contacted them, sending the female's purse and personal effects to London along with the message. Schooling his face, Harry turned his attention to the business at hand.
"What did she look like? This vampire you claim you saw," Gavin growled.
"Uh, really pretty," the boy shuddered. Compulsion had been placed by Harry, which forced the young man to answer every question Gavin asked.
"Describe her!"
"I can show you. I saw her at a basketball game and got the image off the internet. She uh, was with some famous guy," the boy quavered.
"Show me. Immediately."
"Okay." Harry had to back up so the boy could get to his keyboard. The teen pulled up the image quickly. "I was about to put this on MySpace," he said, "So everybody could see what she looks like."
"Get a copy of this," Gavin ordered. Harry took a flash drive from the kid to download the images.
"See, that's her, right there," the boy pointed out the strawberry blonde sitting next to the tall, dark haired man on his computer screen.
"Who is she sitting with?" Harry breathed, crouching next to the boy to get a better look.
"William Winkler," Gavin growled.
"The one who's putting the recognition software together that's supposed to catch criminals ninety-eight percent of the time? The software that's supposed to be ten times better than anything else on the market? That William Winkler?" Harry's voice almost shook as he stared up at Gavin. The vampire community lived in fear of that software. If anyone started hunting them, it could be used effectively to track them down.
"That would be the one," Gavin agreed. "This is becoming more complicated by the minute."
Harry pulled the flash drive out of the boy's computer. "Now, young man, you are going to remove those images from your computer and you are going to put up messages that you didn't see anything and that you lied, do you hear me?" Harry ordered.
"Yes, sir."
"Good. We'll wait while you do it."
The boy had everything done roughly half an hour later. "Now, you will forget you ever saw us, won't you?" Gavin placed compulsion this time.