Chapter 25 Theron
Chapter Twenty-Five
Theron
I push my Harley downhill, which gives me some time to think.
Turned into a vampire at such a young age robbed me of learning more about the human female condition. But because I will never know what it feels like to fall in love as a human, my only frame of reference is doing it as the creature of the night I am now.
As powerful and ruthless as I am, the first time I saw Aila changed certain aspects of my monstrous personality. Instead of leaving her to reap the consequences of her unwise actions at Harry’s Saloon, I intervened. And then I left her a tip.
I mean, part of the fun of being on the hunt is watching events unfold from my very special vampire viewpoint. Being able to climb onto the grid rafters in dark clubs like a leather-clad bat and watch shit go down.
But even back then, I was sensitive to Aila’s special blend of feminine charm.
Why do I want to meet Piers Jordan?
Curiosity.
Time for me to hear the other side of the story. Because whatever it was that Piers did to Aila in the past turned her into the person she is now. And that affects me directly.
Parking my bike in the row by the clubhouse and giving it a quick wipe-down, I head for the bar. There’s a mirror in the entrance. I give it a quick glance to make sure my human disguise is on properly.
Fangs retracted. Check.
Skin slightly tanned. Yep.
Neutral expression firmly in place. Right. I am my usual, adorable vampire self.
Tilting my head down on each side towards my shoulders, I stretch out my neck muscles until I hear them click.
That’s what I used to do before rushing into battle. All I need are some magic ‘shrooms and I will be in full berserker mode.
Let’s go.
As soon as I push the door open, a wall of sound surrounds me.
That crazy ass peyote song Aila enjoyed listening to is gone.
In its place, some genius has decided to play what sounds like upbeat elevator jingles.
I can feel the chill melody trying to put me in a good mood and immediately suppress it.
Only Luna is in the bar as far as vampires go. I suppose the others have been told to let the guests settle into their accommodation before sucking them dry.
A large group of women are talking about their plans in high-pitched, excited voices. Three middle-aged men are standing within the group, trying to pretend that they are not totally fucking happy with the ratio of males to females.
Some guests are leaning against the bar, waiting on their drink orders. Others are seated in booths and around tables chatting about the holiday activities they want to do. Calculating the numbers, I notice one woman and the two kids are missing. Makes sense. It’s late.
And one of the booths is empty—except for the man sitting there.
I sit down opposite him, the leather booth seat squeaking as it accepts my weight.
“I’m Hunter. Saw your ATV on the ferry.”
He’s a handsome man, I’ll give him that. If Piers Jordan ever was a silly frat bro, he shows no signs of it now. His blue eyes are crinkled. Two harsh lines run from his nose to the corners of his mouth. His reddish-blond hair is neatly trimmed in a fashionable style.
But in no way is he an average preppy looking guy.
I clock him to be about thirty-two years old and close to six-two in height. He’s got one of those bodies that indicate a personal trainer and chef; slim, athletic, honed. All lean lines and easy access to the beach or pool when the sun’s out.
A twinge of envy twists inside me.
I’m a biker and a vampire. I’ve never sat down to think about what that could offer a woman.
If I’m summing the man up with a shrewd glance, damned if Piers is not doing the same to me. He seems relaxed, self-assured, cosmopolitan.
“I’m Piers. But you already know that.”
He responds when I cock my eyebrow. He’s observant to the point where I imagine him to be paranoid.
“Where’s the other old dude? The one who brought the cases. Ben?”
“He ain’t here to speak for himself, Piers, so why don’t we just go ahead and leave Ben out of this conversation.”
It’s not a question, and Piers doesn’t treat it like one.
“Sure.” Leaning back, Piers points to my jacket and grins.
“You’re a biker. It must be the easiest way to get around here. Do you mind my asking why you chose to go with a Harley and not a two-stroke off-road bike? It must be hell trying to keep your machine clean riding on these roads.”
His friendly conversation throws me off-guard. I should really get out more. The only males I speak to regularly are Landsliders and vampires.
“For the image.”
I’m joking and he knows it, but the smile doesn’t reach his eyes.
“Cool. I get it. Well, you’re here. It’s clear that you have something on your mind. So, shoot.”
He’s pushing the ball back into my side of the court.
“I want to talk about that li’l exchange we all had down by the jetty, Piers.”
He doesn’t take his eyes off mine.
“The exchange I had with my old ex-girlfriend before she climbed onto the back of your Harley and then rode off. Is that the exchange you’re talking about?”
“Yep.”
Piers folds his arms. It’s a deliberate movement to let me know he’s willing to humor me with a certain amount of politeness.
“Amelia and Aila O’Hara are a couple of con artists, Hunter. But I suppose with you being a biker and all, you’re okay with that.”
“What has me being a biker got to do with it?”
“I mean that you probably have nothing to lose.”
I’m listening. But I’m also watching Piers closely, trying to suss out the veracity of what he’s saying.
“Pretend I’ve got plenty to lose, Piers. What would you be telling me then?”
He sighs and looks around the bar as if it will inspire him. Then his focus comes back to me.
“You’ve got your defenses up to intercept anything I say that runs counter to your beliefs, Hunter, but I’ll do you the courtesy of saying it anyway.
Amelia and Aila O’Hara are pros. Professional heartbreakers and swindlers.
They’ve been on the game for years. Money, furs, jewelry.
Not necessarily in that order. Anything which is transportable and easy to stuff into a suitcase, that’s their grift.
And I can tell from that cunt-struck look on your face that you’ve already sampled the stuff they offer a man in exchange. ”
Inhaling, I wait for some words to come out of my mouth. But the air stays in my lungs, because I want to hear more of what Piers has to say.
Nodding, Piers gets it.
“What has Aila asked you to do for her, Hunter? No offense, but you don’t come across as her usual target.”
Finally, I can breathe. “Well, so long as we’re being truthful here, Piers, Aila asked me to protect her from you.”
The wrinkles around his blue eyes get deeper when he laughs.
“Ha! That’s funny. You’re a funny guy. But that’s typical Aila O’Hara.
The girl sure knows how to play the cards life dealt her.
” He leans forward with his elbows on the booth and lowers his voice.
We are literally seeing eye to eye. “You have to believe this when I tell you. It’s me who needs protecting from the O’Haras. ”
His confession over, Piers sits back again, playing with one of the booth cushion buttons with his finger as he sees a loose thread sticking out. “Maybe I should hire you.”
The more Piers talks, the more uncomfortable I feel. I came in here like a man with a plan, but this guy is all about the strategy. I feel—no, I am a caveman compared to him.
He leaves the air empty between us, content for me to process what he just laid down. With a measured motion, he picks up his glass and takes a small sip.
I end up saying the first thing that comes to mind.
“Why are you here?”
“It’s no secret, but I bet the O’Haras have been acting all double-oh-seven about my arrival. They are all about that Oscar-winning performance when they need to be.”
For the first time, I see a flicker of annoyance on his face. Piers continues.
“I’ve been trying to hunt down those two elusive ladies for a very long time.” Leaning forward again, Piers lowers his voice. “I want to pay them off. I’m here to give them money. Lots of it.”
“That’s very fucking generous of you, Piers. Why?”
He smiles and shrugs, looking all rueful and embarrassed.
“I did some stupid things when I was a kid. Unacceptable, really.” Placing his hand over his heart, Piers lifts his other hand like he’s swearing an oath.
“I’ll be the first to admit that. But that’s what being in love with a con artist does to a man.
It is so frustrating—and humiliating—when you realize you’ve been suckered. ”
His hand comes down. “Hunter, I’m going into politics.
And that means I have to wipe the slate clean.
It’s something I always wanted to do, serve my country in the capacity of a statesman.
That’s why I’ve never been into social media and shit like that.
It’s death for anyone who wants to be taken seriously, to post something they might regret later. ”
But didn’t Aila tell me that she had to change her name on her accounts so that Piers couldn’t trace her?
“Full confession,” Piers gets back to business, “it’s the reason why I’ve been tracking them.”
With all these confidential statements flying around, I’m finding it hard to keep track. I can still feel the last wisps of alcohol flowing in my bloodstream.
“Getting a woman to dump her long-time boyfriend as a way of accessing Landslide sounds suspicious no matter which way you want to look at it, Piers. How the fuck did you even know they were here?”
His eyes get wider.
“Are you talking about Kelly and the kids? They are really sweet. We got talking at the hotel in Buffalo Point where she was waiting for the ferry, and we just hit it off. I made a move after she told me about her boyfriend dumping her. All perfectly natural when you look at it.”
“That’s real convenient.”
Piers nods. “Sure. But I was there to try and catch a lift on the ferry anyway, so no harm, no foul.” Tapping the table, Piers looks serious.
“I must work out some kind of a deal with the O’Haras, Hunter.
You have no idea what it’s like to live in fear of what they might do next.
Go to the papers. Write a book. I can’t do anything until those two women have signed an NDA. ”
“They would have told you at the hotel that there’s no chance of catching the ferry, Piers. What with Landslide being private property and all.”
He’s not fazed by this at all. “You want to know how I found out the O’Haras were headed to Landslide? One of Amelia’s friends told me. Laura. Amelia’s been borrowing money off her and left Laura with a garage full of crappy furniture to pay it off. She was not best pleased.”
People in the bar begin to say goodnight to each other, but Piers is not finished. “That’s how they roll, Hunter. The O’Haras. They always leave broken, angry people behind them.”
The crowd at the bar is starting to thin out. This batch of holidaymakers are all birdwatchers and yoga fans. It’s not likely they would want to prop up the bar counter until the small hours.
They sound happy as they begin draining their glasses and heading for the door.
The brewery in the basement is thrumming, there to keep them sleeping safe.
Piers stretches and yawns.
“Whew! I hate talking about ancient history like this, Hunter. But thanks. You’re a good listener.”
If he’s expecting me to repay the compliment, he’ll be waiting a long time.
“You’re here to get Aila and Amelia to sign an NDA and pay them money for it. And that’s it?”
Piers opens his hands, holding them palms out. “That’s it. I swear. And also to have a satisfying vacation in the process if I can—ha, ha, ha!”
“I reckon I can arrange that first part for you, Piers.”
There’s a flurry of movement as the door opens and shuts quickly. Luna just ran out of the bar at vampire speed. What bug got up her ass? But Piers drags my focus back to him.
“Do we have a deal?” He reaches over to shake my hand.
I leave him hanging. “Deal.”