Stake and Dust (Stake and Dust series, Book I) (4 page)

Splendid, another few things he had to worry
about – hotheaded brothers.

"I know it's none of your concern," she said,
"but I just wanted you to know where I stood on this. I'm taking
this vamp down with or without your help. So tell me now if you
have the stomach for this? It could get brutal."

Not that he went around slaying his own kind,
but why did she doubt his ability to follow through? Did he look
like a pansy arse to her?

Her soft chuckle had him staring at her with
confusion. "Oh you should see your face, Mr. Green."

"I fail to see the humor," he grumbled.

"You're wondering why I doubt your
capabilities."

Of course she hit it right on the nose on the
first go around. "It crossed my mind," he said.

"Don't be miffed. I haven't got much to go on
with you – other than, you were transferred to the States due to an
incident with your last case overseas."

Just his luck. He'd taken on the identity of
a man who was a screw up with not only his personal life, but with
his work as well.

"Hmm..." Her eyes did a casual sweep of him
as she leaned forward on the bar. "You appear strong enough." She
pinched his biceps like she was checking to see if he were ripe for
the picking. "Wow, impressive. You do work out, don't you?" She met
his gaze then.

Did she expect him to answer? But then she
continued her one sided conversation.

"So you wouldn't have difficulty taking down
a target." Her gaze slid over him once more and he wasn't sure if
he liked the way she eyed him. Now that she knew the brawn hadn't
gotten him demoted to the States, her mind shifted to a new
possibility. She thought he lacked smarts. Oh she didn't say it in
so many words, but her lovely green eyes didn't hide her lack of
confidence in him.

He stood to his full height. "I am not an
imbecile, Miss Hayes."

Her eyes widened in surprise. "I never said
you were."

"No? 'Cause your expression says
otherwise."

She chuckled. Was she laughing at him now? "I
apologize. So enlighten me. What went wrong with your last job in
the UK?"

Lovely. Now he needed to come up with a
plausible story from what Bram had told him. Maybe he should have
let her believe him an imbecile. Then he knew what would appease
her. "It had nothing to do with the case per se."

"No?" She leaned her elbow on the counter and
rested her chin on the palm of her hand as if settling in for a
grand story.

So be it. He knew how to spin a yarn. His
sept told stories around campfires, long before television and the
internet were available to occupy the populace. "I had a dalliance
with my superior's daughter." He did like how that tidbit wiped the
smirk off her face. "My superior took offence," he added with a
shrug and allowed her to fill in the blanks.

"I see." She lowered her hand and sat up
straighter in her seat. "Then I do hope while you're on this case,
you can keep
it
in your pants, Mr. Green."

From the far end of the bar, he heard Bram
cough to hide his chortle. If he kept it up, the patrons would
believe he was coming down with something contagious.

"I assure you, Miss Hayes, I can control my
urges." His gaze did a casual slide as he admired her attributes
with meaning. "Aye, there should be no trouble at all." If her
flushed face proved an indication, then he'd made his point even if
it was a boldface lie.

"Good," she said. "Fine," she added with a
clipped tone. "Then we'll get along, wonderfully." She cleared her
throat. "I'll take an apple ale."

"Pardon me?"

"Apple ale." She nodded toward the glass
bottles behind him. "I'll sit at one of the tables near the wall.
If you spot the vamp we're looking for, just have one of your
waiters send me another apple ale and I'll know."

"Then what?" He wanted to be privy to her
plan, even if this was all pretend. He had no idea who they were
looking for, and if he did, he couldn't allow her to stake a vamp
in his pub.

"I'll follow him and see where he goes," she
said.

"No stake and dust?" His brows lifted.

"Well, yeah, later. Three men have been
found. All drained of blood. Three," she repeated. He needs to be
put down."

Like a rabid animal
, Tremayne thought
to himself. But make that four people the vamp has taken down if
they were going to count the real Mr. Green, but he kept the tidbit
to himself. He reached for the ale on the back shelf below the
painting framed in gold. "I'll keep my eyes open," he told her.

"Nice mermaid painting," she said with an
incline of her head.

"Thanks, it's a Lamia, more like a serpentine
water creature than simply an aquatic shifter like a mermaid.
Though both can be lethal. Painting came with the pub," he added.
He opened the bottle top with the handy topper opener he installed
next to the taps. He placed the bottle in front of her.

"A Lamia…interesting." She took a sip from
the bottle. "This is good." She rose from her seat, and then
sauntered over to one of the tables near the wall where she'd have
a perfect view of who entered and left the pub. She looked as
inconspicuous as any hunter would in an establishment filled with
preternatural beings.

"Hey, can we get some service here," Bram
raised his voice to be heard and waved his empty glass in front of
him.

Tremayne headed over. "Will you give it a
rest?" he hissed, then glanced at Sheerin who appeared to be having
a difficult time wiping the grin off his face as he wrote in his
notebook.

Bram chuckled. "I'm glad you took care of the
hunter. You know...offering her a drink and having her take up
residence. Great plan,
Mr. Green
."

"Put a cork in it," he told Bram, but his
demand only made his cousin laugh all the more.

Chapter Four

Cassandra sipped her ale as she eyed the
patrons that were enjoying their night out at the pub. The band set
up their equipment in the corner where the tables had been
rearranged around the makeshift stage. She had to admit the
ambience of the place suited her. Too bad she wasn't here to kick
back and enjoy herself. Maybe after the case was closed, she
would.

She chanced a look at Mr. Green or rather
Tremayne Greer. He wasn't what she expected. She'd only spoken to
him twice on the phone. The first time she would have sworn he'd
been drunk. The guy manning the bar spoke with confidence, not a
bumbling fool she'd believed Mr. Green to be.

Tremayne joked with the patrons with ease,
and man-oh-man he was easy on the eyes. Thick dark hair, gorgeous
blue eyes, and when he smiled, one dimple winked back.

Her gaze slid over him or rather what she
could see of him standing behind the counter. And she liked what
she saw – muscled arms, wide chest, tapered waist. She'd bet the
rest of him looked pretty darn snazzy, too. She took another sip of
her drink and realized it was empty. She needed to pace
herself.

It would take more than one bottle of ale to
make her tipsy. Heck, she'd been known to drink her brothers under
the table, but she was on duty. She needed to keep a sharp lookout,
but she couldn't sit at the table all alone and without a drink in
front of her. She stood and headed back to the bar.

Tremayne noticed her approach and made a
point to meet her as she sat down on the stool. "Need another apple
ale?" he asked, his head inclining toward the empty bottle.

"Let's go with a ginger ale this time," she
kept her voice low, so not to be overheard.

"Smart move." He tapped the side of his nose
and winked. "The coloring will surely pass as a drink, and no one
will be the wiser."

Was he making fun of her? "You'll be glad I'm
sober if I have to save your pretty behind."

His lips curved. "Have you been checking out
my behind, Miss Hayes?"

This made her chuckle. "Just get me the
drink."

He poured the ginger ale into a clear glass
and slid it over to her. He leaned on the counter, his face inches
from hers. The man was far too good-looking and she wished he'd
back up just a tad, and give her some more breathing space or…
maybe he should just kiss her. She frowned, wondering where that
thought had come from.

"Is something amiss?" He asked and his right
eyebrow tilted up a fraction of an inch. "Do I have bad breath?" He
covered his mouth with his hand and blew into his palm. "Nope,
minty fresh." He flashed her a smile and that cute as ever dimple
appeared.

She cleared her throat. "It's not you." No,
it was entirely her problem that her libido had decided to go wonky
and all because she was talking to a good-looking man.

She really needed to get out more. She
couldn't remember the last time she'd been on a date or better yet,
the last time she'd been kissed. Her gaze landed on his mouth.
She'd bet this guy knew how to kiss. She forced herself to look
away or end up in trouble. Hadn't Mr. Green been shipped out of his
country for fooling around with his superior's daughter? She had no
desire to be added to the list of his conquests. "Just back up a
little, will you?" she said. "Have you not heard of personal
space?"

He took a step back and lifted his hands. "I
thought you'd like to keep our conversation hushed."

Her gaze met his and she had the distinct
feeling she'd offended him. "Sorry. It's not…"

"…you," he finished for her. "Sounds like
you're breaking up with me, Miss Hayes.
And
all before we've
kissed."

"W-what?" she asked, and hoped he didn't hear
how her voice hitched.

"Hey, bartender?" a blond-haired guy at the
end of the bar called to him. He'd been scribbling things down in a
notebook all evening. Nerdish in a way, but too attractive to give
him the full title. But then again she personally found the nerdy
look attractive. "I need a refill," the man said as he lifted his
glass.

"If you'll excuse me," Tremayne told her and
headed over to the customer.

This gave her the opportunity to recover from
Tremayne standing too close and making her forget she shouldn't be
interested. "Stay focus," she murmured to herself.

There was barely any standing room in the pub
now. The patrons seemed to be migrating toward the stage either to
dance or to cheer on the band. She eyed the group, which consisted
of a guitar player with enough piercings to set off the alarms at
an airport check point; a bass player, who sported interesting
tattoo sleeves; and a long-haired drummer, who seemed to have
caught a group of college girls' eyes. She rather enjoyed the
ballad with the rock and roll flare to it.
Not too bad
, she
thought as she sipped her ginger ale.

Her gaze shifted to a guy loitering near the
bandstand, a strange guy in her way of thinking. He licked his lips
as if he'd anticipated a midnight snack near at hand. She sat up
straighter in her seat.

"What has your hackles up?"

She turned to find Tremayne standing behind
her, and was surprised he had returned without her realizing
it.

"The guy near the bandstand," she discreetly
inclined her head in the direction. "He's cozying up to the
dark-haired Goth chick."

"I have him in my sights," Tremayne said.

"Well? Is he the one?"

"He's not my type." He chuckled. When she
rolled her eyes in response, he sobered and cleared his throat.
"Sorry, no. He's not the one you're looking for. Though he does
look a wee bit squirrelly."

"Exactly my thoughts." She placed her glass
down and stood. She didn't take more than a few steps before
Tremayne called after her.

"Where are you going?" he asked.

"To catch a squirrel."

Chapter Five

The woman had spunk and determination.
Tremayne would give her that. It was difficult to decide which was
the prey and which proved the stalker. As much as he would prefer
the
squirrely
Hashasheen demon didn't frequent his bar, he
was still a customer and it would be bad for business if Cassandra
staked him in front of those having a good time.

He didn't spot a weapon on her as he admired
how her form fitting jeans hugged every curve, but he had no doubt
the hunter had one stashed somewhere on her person.

She moved in close to the demon and swayed
her hips as she encouraged him to dance with her. Of course the
demon took her bate. Who wouldn't with the way Cassandra looked and
the sway of her hips proved hypnotic. The Hashasheen demon pulled
her close, and a low growl escaped Tremayne's lips before he could
stop himself. He glanced around to see if anyone noticed his slip
up, and breathed a sigh of relief when no one had glanced his way,
but then he looked toward his cousins. Bram met his gaze with a
raised brow. "Damn," he murmured.
Caught.

Where in the heck had his response come from?
Cassandra and the demon were dancing – way too close if anyone
asked him – but still, they were only dancing.

"You look like you're about to leap over the
bar and take the demon out yourself," Bram remarked as he moved
closer. "You wouldn't be falling prey to the slayer's charms, would
you?"

He threw Bram a lethal glare. "She's either
going to get herself killed or cause a panic in the pub. Both of
which would be detrimental for business."

"You look jealous to me," Bram insisted.
"Doesn't he look right jealous?" He turned toward Sheerin for
confirmation.

"Oh, he's smitten, to be sure." Sheerin
jotted down something in his notebook.

"What do you write about?" Tremayne barked.
He'd asked many times before, but Sheerin's answers were always
vague. Not sure why he believed it would be any different now.

His pale eyes met his and his lips slid into
a grin. "Oh, this and that. Tonight, it's about a vampire and his
attraction to his mortal enemy."