How embarrassing. Her voice caught and her lip trembled.
“Hush, child.” The old lady stood and came around the table to put her arm around Claire. “I’ll tell you what I know, never you mind the tears.” She leaned close to Claire’s ear. “That Shadow is no good. I told my boy not to hang around that trash, but he keeps coming around. Wanting me to sell stuff for him.”
She leaned close and cupped a hand around her mouth. “Uses the money for drugs, I’m sure. But he scares me so I don’t tell him no. One time I heard him trying to get my boy to go to this bar with him. What was the name…?” She tapped a finger to her lips. “Something about caves or holes or… I remember it sounded disgustin’…” She snapped her fingers. “The Pit!”
Claire nodded, surreptitiously wiping a tear from her cheek. “O-okay, thank you so much for your help.”
She bought a set of doily coasters from her, thanked her again and then headed for the entrance to look for her cab.
Her mind was working rapid-fire, deciding what to do next. Go to that bar, see if this Shadow guy would even show up there and—And what? Call the police? Maybe Julia would be at The Pit with him. Claire’s breathing hitched. She almost hoped Julia wouldn’t be there with this Shadow person.
It was almost dark. Stalls were closing up. She stood alone in the parking lot. The place had been crowded earlier. She shivered as the hairs on her arms stood out. She glanced to her right and left, feeling someone’s eyes on her.
That was absurd. No one knew she was here.
Except Rafe Moreau.
CLAIRE WHISPERED A SHORT prayer of thanks when she saw the cab pull into the flea market parking lot. She was more than a little spooked. Chiding herself that she was letting her imagination run wild didn’t help. She’d never really thought of herself as having much of an imagination.
Digging into her purse, Claire pulled out her cell phone and the card the sergeant in charge of Julia’s case had given her. She dialed his number and his brusque, “Mulroney,” calmed her fears slightly. She told him what she’d learned about “Shadow” and that he might be hanging out at a bar called The Pit.
Mulroney promised he’d send an officer to check it out, but his tone still suggested they were being sent on a wild goose chase.
If that was Mulroney’s attitude, she probably ought to check out the bar herself. But going alone could be dangerous. Look at the trouble she’d gotten into at the more tourist-friendly vampire bar. If Rafe hadn’t stepped in to stop that crazy guy from choking her…
Perhaps he could be persuaded to help her one more time. Was she crazy to ask a complete stranger for help? For all she knew Rafe Moreau could be involved in Julia’s disappearance. Logic dictated she not trust him. But after the way he’d come to her aid, she couldn’t bring herself to think he was the bad guy.
“Once Bitten, please,” Claire instructed the cabbie as she climbed in. Relying on instinct was foreign to her. She usually made decisions only once she’d ascertained all the facts. But in these circumstances, her choices were limited.
When the cab pulled up to Once Bitten, there was a line of people at the door waiting to get in that ended half a block away.
It was closed! She tried to see if there was an hours of operation sign. Peering between a guy with a huge mohawk and a fang-wearing Dracula look-alike complete with tuxedo and black cape, she saw a plaque by the door that read:
Open: Sunset
Close: Sunrise
Well, that was informative.
Maybe Rafe wasn’t even working tonight. If he wasn’t, how would she find him? And if he were, why on earth would he want to go with her to some place called The Pit after his shift was over?
This had been a stupid idea. Maybe she should just let the police handle it. What did she think she could do, anyway? What did she think Rafe could do?
Except… The look in his eyes when he’d threatened that crazy man… As if he’d seen things, had done things she wouldn’t want to know about. There was something dangerous about Rafe Moreau.
If she could just get him to come with her. He’d dismissed her bribe the other night. But surely a large sum of cash could convince him. She hadn’t seen a tip jar on the bar, and this crowd didn’t seem like big tipper types. She’d have to have her dad wire her the money from her savings account. For Julia, she had to try.
Reluctantly Claire made her way to the end of the line. It was past sunset. Evidently the owner didn’t keep a strict sense of time.
“Claire?”
She spun at her name spoken in that husky Southern drawl. “Rafe!” A burst of joy filled her chest. Then astonishment that she could feel such an emotion for a stranger. This situation was making her irrational.
“What are you doing here?” Rafe glanced around as if making sure no one he knew saw him speaking to her before his gaze settled solidly on her.
“I’ve come to make you a proposition.”
His brows shot up.
“Not that kind of—It’s not what you think, I mean, I wasn’t—” God, she was stammering. Her cheeks were warm again.
His mouth slowly quirked up until he was smiling. Then he shook his head and chuckled. He took her arm and tugged her out of line. “Come on.”
“Where are we going?” She allowed him to pull her along past the line of people waiting. He stopped at the front door.
“Inside.” He dug into his jeans pocket, produced a set of keys and fitted one into the dead bolt of Once Bitten. He didn’t stop the crowd from following them in, but he didn’t head for the bar, either. Instead, he led her beyond the lounge area to another door, fitted a different key to its lock and ushered her through it.
“Take a seat.” He dropped the keys on a sleek metal computer desk and shrugged out of his worn black leather jacket, hanging it on a coat rack by the door. “Give me a few minutes, and then we’ll talk.” And he headed back out to the bar.
Claire blinked, taking in the room around her. The decor from the bar did not extend to this room. It was small, utilitarian. Obviously an office. One wall of exposed brick held a window covered with cheap beige blinds.
Dropping her purse, she sat in the black rolling chair and ran her hand over the desk. His scent lingered in the air. He must be more than a bartender for Once Bitten. This was his office.
Only, there were no knickknacks. No framed pictures of Rafe with friends or family. Nothing personal.
She considered herself a fairly private person when it came to her work environment, but even she had an electronic photo frame on her desk with a slideshow of herself with her family.
She did find a stack of business cards with his name, cell phone and website URL typed below Once Bitten. She took one and stuck it in her purse.
The door opened and Claire jumped up as if she’d been caught snooping.
“Okay,
