Part 16 (1/2)

Breisi was not amused.

”For this kind of place,” Dawn had told her, ”black-lace teddy-okay. TeddyRuxpin-not so much.” Now, as the music transitioned to an old song by Siouxsie and the Banshees, Kiko hopped off his bar stool. He indicated a magenta-haired waitress and darted away to corner her.

That left Breisi and Dawn. They just stared at each other for a second, then yelled over Siouxsie at the same time.

”I'll work the bar!” That was Dawn, pointing to her gla.s.s.

”I've got to make a call!” That was Breisi, pointing to her phone then heading outside.

Dawn knew she was going to give Nathan Pennybaker another try. G.o.d, she couldn't wait to bruise all the parts of him that were pink and justifiably poetic.

And as for Mrs. Pennybaker...they'd decided to hold back on telling the mom anything until they could approach Nathan first.

h.e.l.l, was it so wrong to have their facts straight before ruining the poor woman?

Too bad they weren't having any luck reaching her husband. To make matters even more frustrating, Breisi had told them that the bugs she'd planted weren't even picking up Nathan's voice.

As Dawn wondered if they were going to have to find Robby's dad now, too, she hunkered down over the bar. She thought of her own father-where he might be right now, what he was...

Coldness s.h.i.+vered over the back of her neck.

Immediately, she straightened, on guard, eyes locking on a woman at the end of the bar.

Asian-featured, she was pale, with Adam Ant war paint on her face and braids all over her head. Like the flash of a mirrored ball, the woman's eyes went silver, and Dawn jammed her hand into her pocket for the crucifix. But...

There was nothing-no fire, no mind screw.

Dawn hesitated. A vamp would've worked its gaze, like those red-eyed things, yet there'd been nothing with this woman.

The Adam Antette turned away, leaning on the bar and watching the dance floor.

The hair on Dawn's arms was standing on end, and she let go of her crucifix, not sure what to think. Too rattled to think.

Was she getting paranoid? That'd be awesome.

Someone yelled at her, and she jerked back to find the bartender waiting for her to answer him. Wearing a black vest, long dark hair, and makeup straight out ofThe Crow, he resembled the ghost of Brandon Lee, the actor who'd died during a tragic shooting on the set of his last movie.

Her pulse stopped, s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g into itself at the eerie resemblance. But when she looked a little closer, she realized that he was merely a wan imitation of the rising star who had shown such potential.

Forcing herself to recover, Dawn took a wild guess and determined that he was asking her if she wanted a refill.

”No, thanks.”

Some Nine-Inch-Nails Betty who was way too eager for a vodka on the rocks smashed against Dawn's back in a bad rendition of party etiquette, sticking out ten dollars to attract the bartender's attention. Dawn subtly forced her shoulder against the woman, making her back off.

On a whim, she glanced at the Adam Antette again, but she was gone.The bartender handed over the vodka to the pushy customer. As he moved forward, his vest gaped open, and that's when Dawn saw it: two wounds above his pecs.

Her blood tugged at her veins, her head going woozy. Good G.o.d...bite marks? A servant?

Or maybe it was just that paranoia. And, really, who could blame her after last night?

Keeping cool, Dawn kept him in her sights, easing from her stool the second he scooped up two handfuls of empty bottles and headed toward the back of the room.

As she threaded her way through the dance floor toward him, she saw Kiko. He was near the restroom pay phone, where it was quieter, though not by much. The magenta waitress he was talking to had her head tilted back in laughter, her dominatrix-garbed body aimed straight at the psychic in open invitation.Go, Kiko.

He reached toward the woman's arm.

But before he made contact, Dawn rested her hand on his healthy shoulder. As he followed her with his gaze, she jerked her chin toward the back, and he nodded, acknowledging where she was going.

Then, as his interview subject sighed in post-laugh recovery, he touched her. She didn't make another sound.

Dawn entered the far more utilitarian back hall, with its blase walls and red tile. The faint clatter of gla.s.s led her to a storage room, where she found the bartender picking up full liquor bottles to replenish the spent ones. At the sound of her entrance he did a double take, hisCrowface, threatening and pale, caught in a frown.

”You're not allowed here.”

The music was more background than hindrance now.

”I got lost.” Dawn shot him a smile, came a bit closer. ”But while I'm around, do you mind talking to me for a few?”

He relaxed, ran a gaze over her. When he got to her face, she marked the typical reaction: ”Unimpressive, but she does have a thumpin' bod.”

She battled back the twinge of inferiority, of being second-tier attractive.

”I've got to get back soon,” he said, gaze still roving, contradicting his words.

Then he propped the bottles on a stainless steel table. Good sign. He also gave her one of those looks: the smirk of a bartender who kind of resembled a legend and was kind of used to getting laid because of it.

The air snapped between them. Dawn's body reacted, restless, ever-hungry. Used to being fed.

She walked nearer, taking advantage of his weakness. Of hers, too. ”How long you been working here?”

”A couple weeks, give or take. It's a gig-not permanent.”

Of course. He'd get his break soon, leave bartending behind, become a star. ”Pay much attention to the customers?”

Adjusting his lean body to face hers head-on, he laughed at the strange question. ”What's this about?”

She was two feet away from him now, close enough to smell the c.o.c.ktail of his skin. She heated up under her jacket as he continued checking her out.

Do men look at you this waynow,Eva?she thought.She caught herself, feeling her nails crush into her palms.

Concentrate on questions, she thought. Find Frank.

She relaxed, bolstered her strength. ”Can you remember the faces of the people who come in here?”

Laughing, he clearly thought she was leading up to something entirely different. She'd done too good of a job stringing her pickup lines together and tugging him closer.

”Can you remember any of them?” Dawn asked, focusing on the interview now...pus.h.i.+ng,pus.h.i.+ngback at everything else.

”Sometimes I pay attention to the clientele.” He lowered his voice, grinned. ”Certain ones in particular.”