“I’m surviving. Hanging out with my odd bodyguards as a walking target for the hunters. Now I guess
I’ll be dodging a vampire serial killer too. Good times.”
“You’re with me now. And I won’t let anything happen to you.” He frowned, then reached forward to push the hair off my neck. “What the hell is that?”
I was seriously buying a scarf as soon as possible. When did Barry say this damn thing would heal up?
“Barbecue-prong incident.”
Somebody had to go for that, didn’t they?
He held his hand to the bite marks without saying anything, his gaze growing soft and worried as he searched my face for answers. I wrapped my hand around his wrist after a moment and pulled it away, turning toward the door to Haven.
“I’m thinking I feel like another drink.” I glanced at him. “Want to join me?”
“A drink?”
“Yeah.” I fished into my purse and pulled out a set of keys. “Look who just happens to have keys to Haven.”
“Is that a good idea?”
“Nobody will be in there for hours. Therefore, it’s an open bar.”
He still looked disturbed about the state of my neck. “Sounds pretty damn good to me. I could use a beer.”
I let us into the club and locked the door behind us. Flicked on a few lights.
“Can you give me a second?” I said to him. “I have to make a call.”
I went over to the phone and dialed Thierry’s number.
It immediately went through to voicemail.
“Thierry, it’s me. Looks like we’re playing phone tag. Listen, I’m at Haven right now. I’ll . . . I’ll talk to you later, okay?”
I hung up and stood there with my hand on the receiver for a few moments. I really wanted to talk to him. Make sure he was okay. Let him know that I wasn’t upset about last night but there were definitely things we needed to talk about. I still didn’t believe that he’d killed Nicolai’s wife despite all evidence to the contrary. My gut was telling me there was more to the story. But, like everything in my life, the answers would have to wait.
I grabbed a couple of beers from the fridge and walked over to Quinn, who took one from me.
“So was that the bodyguard who said she’d teach you self-defense?” he asked.
“It was.” I took a long sip of the beer. “Unfortunately, the day has not gone as originally planned.”
Not by a longshot.
I slipped a hand into my pocket to feel the gold chain. What was I supposed to do with it? What was it, anyhow? I’d put it somewhere safe for the time being. Tell Thierry about it. Whatever it was, people were willing to kill for it.
It’s not like it had a big diamond in it, or anything. It was quite ugly. Just a thin gold chain that Mr. T probably wouldn’t even bother with. Whatever its value, it wasn’t because it was from Tiffany’s.
“Maybe I should just stay inside and avoid anything that might inadvertently get me killed,” I mused aloud as I thought back on the experience with Fedora-guy.
“I agree.”
I frowned at Quinn. “Great. Everybody wants me to stay inside. Don’t get in trouble. Stay safe. Avoid living.”
“That’s not exactly what I mean.”
“Then what do you mean?”
“I’m an advocate for awareness. If you’re aware of the risks, and you know how to anticipate potential danger, then you can take care of yourself. You don’t have to hide from life, you just need to approach it a bit differently.”
“And how am I supposed to do that?”
“I’m going to teach you a couple of moves so you can go pretty much anywhere and if anybody gives you any problems, you can kick their ass from here to kingdom come.”
I sighed. After the day I’d had, Quinn’s offer sounded pretty good to me. And it didn’t mean anything.
Forget the dream. Quinn and I were just good friends. I’d be stupid not to take him up on his offer. “All right, you win. Teach me. I am but a student to the master.”
“When?”
I shrugged. “What about right now?”
“You’re not exactly dressed for a street-fighting lesson.”
I looked down at my outfit. “What’s wrong with jeans and a T-shirt?”
His gaze slowly trailed down to my feet. “I suggest you remove the shoes. The last thing I need today is a stiletto through my heart.”
“These are hardly stilettos. They are sensible and highly comfortable. But okay.” I slipped them off so I stood in bare feet on the cold, hard ceramic floor of the club.
He kept looking at me as he drained his beer and set the bottle down on the bar top. Then he went and started moving tables out of the way to clear a portion of the floor. Finally he stood in the center of a sizable empty spot. He pushed up his sleeves.
“Okay,” he said.
I was still leaning against the bar. “Okay what?”
He beckoned to me. “Attack me.”
I walked over to him. “How do you want me to attack you?”
“Well, first of all, would you ask your victim how he would prefer to be attacked? No, I don’t think so.
Just try to punch me or something.” He blinked. “You might want to put your drink down first.”
I placed the bottle down on a nearby table. “Okay, mister. So you’re looking for some pain from the