I’m sorry, Anna. You have your own business to run. I didn’t think you’d have time—
How long are you going to be gone?
I’m not sure. Two weeks, maybe.
I start to slide out of the booth. “Have a good time.”
“Anna, wait.”
He holds out a hand to stop me.
“Why? Are you going to tell me the reason you brought me to this shit hole?”
“I did.”
“No. You didn’t. You didn’t tell me a fucking thing you couldn’t have told me on the phone.”
He glances to the papers on the seat beside him. There’s a map on top. He shuffles them together so the map is hidden in the middle.
“I didn’t want you to be surprised if you went to Beso de la Muerte and found me gone and Sandra there. That’s all.”
Bullshit.
If that was it, he could have met me in Beso de la Muerte.
He picks that thought out of the ether. “Sandra is uncomfortable with seeing you. She asked if you might stay away until I get back.”
It’s the aha moment I’ve been waiting for. “Sandra doesn’t want to see me? That’s why we’re here?”
He drops his eyes.
“Why would she not want to see me?”
He looks up at me again. “She hasn’t gotten over what happened at Avery’s.”
“Wait a minute. She blames me for that?”
“It’s not rational. I know. She knows. But she lost Tamara. It’s complicated.”
No. It isn’t. I’m staring at Culebra, waiting for him to say something else. Something that makes sense. Something like Tamara was going to kill us both and her death was self-defense.
But he doesn’t. And his mind is closed.
Guess I’ll have to get answers from Sandra.
No. Please, Anna. Honor her wishes. Honor my wishes.
I stare at him. You’re actually asking me to stay away until you get back?
Yes.
He’s not looking at me. I feel agitation, it’s emanating from him like heat from fire. His lined face is creased with worry. It tempers my aggravation. I love Culebra like family. I put a hand over his. Tell me what’s wrong.
He pulls his hand back and smoothes the concern from his face. In its place is a frown of exasperation. What’s wrong is that I’ve asked you to do a simple thing. You fight me as you do anyone who will not cater to your whims. It’s unfair, Anna, and insulting.
The vehemence behind his words stuns me. The rebuke is unfair and insulting. Face hot, I snatch up my jacket and slide to the end of the booth. Hesitate as I wait for him to stop me.
He doesn’t. He makes no move to stop me. He doesn’t look up or even call a good-bye as I walk away.
The kid is still leaning against my car when I cross the road and the music has started up again in the bar. I shove the ten at him. I can ’t get out of here fast enough.
I don’t know where I’m going until I’m back behind the wheel of my car and heading out of TJ. Culebra’s eva siveness about the why and where of this trip distresses me. What distresses me even more is the idea that Sandra holds Tamara’s death against me. I have a right to set her straight.
I don’t care if she wants to see me or not. Culebra is off to catch a plane, winging his way to some mysterious destination. How is he going to stop me?
Fuck it. I have nothing better to do today. I’m going to see Sandra.
CHAPTER 5
EVEN TO THE SUPERNATURAL COMMUNITY, BESO de la Muerte is a mystery. It takes me almost as much time to reach it from Tijuana as it does from San Diego, mostly because it ’s forty miles of bad desert road. The town is not on any map, and if a mortal happened to ignore the inhospitable surroundings and take the unmarked turn off from the main highway, it would not be long before he realized he had made a mistake and quickly head back.
He would not be able to articulate why he knew he had made a mistake. He would simply know that he had.
With one exception. If he is a mortal coming to Beso de la Muerte to be a host.
Culebra has been the sole proprietor of this ghost town turned supernatural hangout for as long as anyone can remember.
The first time I came here I was tracking down the vamp who turned me. I was hunting him because I thought he had kidnapped my partner, David, and burned down my house. Turns out, I was wrong. Avery had done those things. Just as he had laid the false trail that led me to Beso de la Muerte in the first place.
The one good thing that came from the whole debacle was meeting Culebra. I need human blood to survive. Culebra offers humans with an inclination for adventure the opportunity to make money as well as experience the best sex imaginable while providing that blood. He protects both vampires and their human hosts. Keeps vampires off the street and off the radar of those who would hunt us. No bodies left suspiciously drained of blood to attract unwanted attention.
The system works.
More important, Culebra became my friend.
At least, I thought he had become a friend.
I push the biting sting of his parting remarks from my head. Along with the guilt that I’m doing exactly what he asked me not to. A whiny little voice justifies it. Don’t I have as much right to be in Beso de la Muerte as Sandra?
It’s not yet eleven o’clock in the morning. Not surprisingly, there are only two cars parked in front of Culebra’s bar when I pull up. Most of the action takes place after dark. The cars are a big Cadillac SUV and a silver Porsche Boxster. I park behind the Cadillac and send out a mental probe.
I detect three vampires and one human.
The human must be Sandra. She’s a werewolf, but werewolves in human form do not give off a supernatural psychic signature. Two of the vampires are bemoaning the fact that they came all the way from L.A. and are starving and there’s no one here to eat. The third vampire is emitting no telepathic signal at all.
I push through the double swinging doors.
The two vamps griping about the lack of service are sitting at a table in the middle of the room. They each have a beer in front of them.
They are young, dressed in open-neck polos and jeans. Both are male, both have carefully coiffed hair and both have an L.A. chic look about them. Probably belong to the Boxster. They look up expectantly when I walk in, then wilt in disappointment when they realize I will not be on the menu.
Newly made, I’d guess, judging from the clumsy way they try to shield their thoughts from me.
The third vampire is at the bar. His back is to me but I sense his reaction when he recognizes me. Because he does recognize me.
Immediately. His back becomes rigid. His thoughts draw in on themselves like a noose tightening around a neck.
He doesn’t turn around.
Williams.
For an instant, I’m tempted to turn around and get the hell out of here. He’s the last person I want to see.
Sandra, however, is a different story. She’s the reason I’m here. If I can ignore Williams’ phone calls, I can ignore him in person, too.
Sandra is arranging glasses against the back of the bar. When she hears the door, she turns and without looking up, says, “Take any table—”
She raises her eyes and the words die in her throat. She still has a glass in her hand. It remains suspended in air for the second it takes her to replace a look of irritation with one of resignation. She sighs and places the glass on the bar. While the words she speaks are, “Hello, Anna,” her attitude says, “Fuck.”