Page 45 of Thirst
“For the right money, yeah.”
“And that would be?—?”
“A million. Like I told you.”
He pursed his lips. “You understand you must deliver the…package to the mainland. We can’t come to you. The island security is too good.”
“Understood.”
“Then perhaps we can make a deal.” He lifted the bottle to his lips.
I eyed his lean throat as he swallowed. Something about the movement made me flash to Nyx, how her skin had felt beneath my lips, soft and warm. And its flavor—her flavor…
My cock stirred. I tore my gaze from the guy’s throat and sat back. What the hell?
For one thing, this was a dude—and I was solidly Team Vagina, except for the occasional three- or foursome. But on top of that, it wasn’t like me to get distracted like that, especially with so much at stake.
His eyes met mine, and I just knew he was rocking a glamour, too. It made sense. Why take a chance Baker might be able to identify him?
Come to think of it, the guy smelled familiar. I inhaled, trying to place him, but couldn’t quite put a name to the scent. The other man’s eyes narrowed, and I took a sip of beer, trying not to make a face at the yeasty, blood-less liquid.
“So, Baker.” He placed his bottle on the battered slab of oak between us. “What makes you think you can get Ca—the package—to leave the island with you? From what I hear, he doesn’t like you much.”
How the fuck did he know that? I didn’t talk about Baker—ever—to anyone but Talon or Brien. I eyed the other man, both irritated and impressed. Someone had done their research.
But I knew how Baker would’ve responded. I pulled my eyebrows into a scowl that could curdle milk. “You let me worry about that.”
“That’s not good enough. I need details. This won’t be easy to pull off even with your help.” The guy started to stand. “So if that’s the best you can do…”
I growled. “Slow your horses. I can deliver, okay?”
He leaned back against the vinyl. “How?”
“Not here.” I dropped my voice. “Too many ears. Around back—five minutes.”
A brief nod. “Alright.”
The bar erupted into cheers. The Canucks had scored a goal.
By the time the frenzy had died down, Nazaire’s rep had slipped out the door.
I rose to follow, muscles coiled, mind already shifting to the next move—when my phone buzzed.
Brien, asking me to call ASAP.
I locked myself in the men’s washroom and hit the call button. “It’s me—what’s up?”
“Donald contacted us with some new intel. About my mother.”
Donald was the vampire “overseeing” our stake in the Quebec City casino—a polite way of saying he played poker, drank blood cocktails and doublechecked the take at the end of the evening. He leaked just enough to the QCS hierarchy to convince them he had a grudge against Brien, while reporting everything he learned back to us.
“Your mother?” I furrowed my brow. “But isn’t Donald in Quebec City?”
“He is, which is what makes this interesting. He overheard a couple of QCS men talking. Turns out they believe Nazaire was behind her assassination. Actually, they think he staked her himself.”
“Nazaire?” My jaw dropped. “But what about the slayers?”
“He could’ve made it look like they were responsible. It’s been done before.”
