A nightclub in Dallas was our destination for the evening and it was definitely upscale with what I considered high-class call girls at the bar. Winkler got a table while I asked Davis if he wanted me off to the side or somewhere else to keep a watch on things. "No, sit at the table with Winkler," he said. "Just make sure nobody approaches him unless he wants it." Davis sat down between Winkler and me. He was facing the door, I had the bar area.
"Hooker at two o'clock," I leaned in and muttered to Davis who passed the message off to Winkler.
"Let her come," Winkler drank from the bottle of beer he'd ordered. I watched the woman anyway as the dyed-blonde sauntered toward Winkler, wiggling suggestively as she settled beside him. Red lips pouting a little, she maneuvered her body as close to Winkler's as she could. He bought a drink for her and it wasn't long before she was doing her best to rub herself all over him. Projectile vomiting came to mind as I struggled to scan the room and ignore the implied sex. My chair overturned as I leapt up to snatch the cell phone out of a customer's hand; he was about to snap a photograph of Winkler and the woman. Yeah, I thought she was a hooker, but I had to give her the benefit of the doubt until I knew for sure.
"You don't want to do that," I was afraid I'd crush the cell phone just by squeezing it a little while the man backed away from me. "S-sorry," he said.
"I'll just bet you are," I slapped the phone into his hand. "Tell me who you are and why you wanted that picture," I growled.
"R-reporter, Dallas News," he mumbled.
"Well, reporter, Dallas News, don't you think it's time you left?" I gave him the nastiest glare I could conjure. My life had certainly changed in the space of a few days. Before, I would have apologized to a fly for swatting at it.
"Sure," the reporter agreed breathlessly, backing away from me a little more.
"And you can forget you saw any of us," I added, following him until he was out the door and heading down the hall toward the elevator. The nightclub perched on the top floor of one of the many tall buildings in Dallas, with a nice view of the entire city. There wasn't time to stare out the plate glass windows next to the bank of elevators; I had a job to do. Sighing, I walked back to the bar. The hooker was now attempting to taunt me, licking Winkler's earlobe when I sat down again. I just rolled my eyes a little and looked the other way.
"Who was the jerk?" Davis asked, leaning over so I could hear him. Actually, I could have heard him just fine anyway, but he didn't know that.
"Reporter for Dallas News," I informed Davis.
"Did he get the picture?"
"No."
"Good."
Winkler ordered another beer and the hooker asked for another fruit drink. Davis and I were served club soda. I pretended to drink mine. "He's taking her home," Davis grimaced when Winkler indicated he was ready to go.
"Fuck," I muttered. Who can account for the taste in men? I certainly couldn't. And the fact that my language had now descended all the way into the gutter didn't help matters, either. Some other woman might have handled becoming vampire with grace and dignity. I wasn't that woman. I hadn't gotten to mourn my husband, go to his funeral, or fight for what should still be mine. That was taken away. I had no idea if I could put up a good fight against Ed and Serge, but as far as I was concerned, they had a lot to answer for.
I sat up front with Davis this time while Winkler and his hooker du jour necked in the back of the car. I caught Davis glancing into the rear-view mirror from time to time and briefly wondered what he was seeing. After thinking about it for a moment, I realized I didn't want to know.
Phil and Glen had taken the night off so Davis and I checked the house over while Winkler poured out a drink for his lady friend. When we gave the all clear, he escorted her to his bedroom on the second floor. I wanted to put a finger down my throat and gag. "Do you want to stay inside and guard the house or go outside and walk the perimeter?" Davis asked me.
"If it's all the same to you, I'll go outside," I said.
"Take a jacket, it's getting cold out," he called after me. I just waved a hand and walked out the door. Davis wasn't bad looking as men went, but for me, it was still much too soon after losing Don, even if he had been unconscious for two full months before he died. Davis had wavy brown hair and light brown eyes that tended to sparkle a little if he was amused. He was around six feet tall and in good shape. He worked out with weights; I'd seen them on their racks inside his downstairs guesthouse apartment.
Instead of walking the perimeter the first couple of rounds that night, I jogged a little, making a full round in a short period of time. It gave me time to think and I wondered what was worrying Winkler. I also wondered why a reporter wanted a photograph that badly. And four bodyguards? Did the president have that many swarming around him all the time? Six-thirty rolled around and Glen and Phil took over while Davis informed them that the boss had a sleepover. Phil grumbled a little—somebody would have to take her home and he figured it would be him.
* * *
"Have you tracked down the teen?" Edward asked Harry when Harry arrived with the cooler of blood.
"Not yet," Harry replied. "And I had to lie and tell the supplier that my fridge broke down so he'd send more blood." Harry's complaint was ignored. Edward could have ordered it himself from the Council-owned blood bank, but that would tell them where he was. Edward had no desire for the Council to learn his whereabouts.
* * *
"I have the information, Honored One," Charles was back with more papers. Wlodek had to think for a moment to determine what Charles meant.
"Well?" he asked. Charles smiled. Wlodek knew that smile. Charles could charm or bribe information from just about anyone, and since compulsion didn't work over the phone, those skills were often quite useful. Wlodek never asked how Charles did it; he really didn't want to know.
"The teen described it quite accurately," Charles was still smiling. "And I managed to learn from him that the man bitten provides the boy with his weekly supply of marijuana. The man is still supplying him, although he seems reluctant to do so."
"So, have either of them seen the vampire again?" Wlodek didn't know whether to express his growing interest to Charles.
"The teen says no. I haven't spoken with the dealer."
"Why don't you attempt to do so and we will go from there?" Wlodek glanced at the papers Charles handed him to sign. "What does Gilbert want this time?" he held up the request for an audience with the Council.