Tempted in the Night (9 page)

He smiled as he sat down and motioned to the bartender to bring him another drink. Jessica tried to ignore him and glanced around the room, still not seeing Brody. It wasn't that she expected him to attack her right there in the bar, but she was counting on him doing exactly what she was doing—surveying the landscape and locating the next target for attack.

A hand at her elbow interrupted her thoughts and she turned to face the man beside her, the
odor
of stale beer hitting her in the face as he leaned close enough to speak to her over the noise. "Say, baby," he drawled, "how 'bout you and me having some fun."

Fighting off humans was harder than fighting off vampires. It wasn't as easy as pulling out a dagger and sinking it into their chest to be rid of them. That made her current situation a real predicament. Jess wasn't exactly sure how to get herself out of it without hurting someone.

Mistaking her silence as interest, he shifted his body closer to hers. She was about to use a Judo move to make her intentions clear, when someone grabbed the man's arm and roughly twisted it, causing him to release her and double over the counter in pain. Turning, she saw Detective
Boehler
, looking like he'd had a rough night, holding on to the young man's arm.

"You're in my seat," he growled, yanking the man off the stool and shoving him off to the side. "Beat it."

"Hey, I saw her first," the drunk protested loudly.

"Don't make me hurt you." John turned his back on the man, effectively dismissing him, and gave Jess his full attention. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"I
was
enjoying a bit of peace and solitude," she said.

"Not anymore." He reached out, took the glass from her hand, downed its contents, and set it on the counter.

Then he took her elbow and pulled her to her feet. "I'm taking you home."

"Thanks, but I'm not ready to go," she said forcefully, pulling her arm from his grasp with a quick jerk. "Don't let that stop
you
from leaving."

They were drawing attention from the other patrons, though John didn't seem to care.

"Does Charles know you're out all alone?"

"I don't have to account for my whereabouts to anyone," she informed him.

He shook his head. "Lady, you are one piece of work."

The football player chose that moment to return. He charged at John, who barely had time to brace himself before being shoved halfway across the room. He quickly regained his footing, though, and grabbing the other man's hand, used his forward momentum to send him toppling into the crowd. The jock, however, recovered more quickly this time, and came back swinging his fist, catching John in the jaw.

John's head snapped to the side, but he didn't go down. Instead, he stood there, rubbing his jaw until Jess wondered if it was broken. Things were getting out of hand. She was about to get off her stool and go to him when suddenly he exploded into action. It was almost like he'd been waiting for the young man to throw the first punch and now that he had, John was free to retaliate. He threw several fast jabs at his opponent's face and belly, hitting him so hard that Jess worried he might have broken the bones of his hand in addition to whatever damage he'd inflicted on her unwanted admirer.

She was relieved when the bouncers arrived to break up the fight.

"Not in the bar," one shouted, grabbing the football player and roughly
maneuvering
him out the door. "Take it outside."

John straightened his shirt, grabbed a napkin off the bar to dab at the blood from his split lip and stared at her, his expression dark and angry. She knew she was about to catch an earful, but then the bouncer put a hand on John's shoulder. "You, too, buddy."

He nodded once.
"All right.
Come on," he said to her.

"I think not," she said, sounding outraged for the sake of the bouncer. "I hardly even know you and I'm certainly not leaving with you."

John's jaw dropped. "What the hell
… ?"

"That's it, buddy. You're
outta
here. Lady doesn't want to go."

The bouncer put his hand on John's shoulder to escort him out, and for a second, Jess thought he might balk. He certainly looked mad enough.

Instead, with more dignity than she would have given him credit for, he straightened his shoulders and nodded to the man. "You and I are going to have a nice long talk—later," he promised her and then walked out of the bar without looking back.

Jessica felt a shiver of apprehension race down her spine, but the emotion was quickly replaced with guilt. She knew the detective had only been trying to protect her, but when would he learn that she didn't need his protection?

Outside, John crossed the street to his parked car. He was in a foul mood. It was bad enough that he'd had to go to the station and be grilled about the young woman's death, but then Dick from Internal Affairs had shown up. John had barely succeeded in convincing the man that he wasn't working a new case, arguing that he'd been following up on an
Exsanguinator
lead that had, unfortunately, led to the most recent victim.

Dick had demanded to be told everything and John had promised to bring him up to speed, just as soon as he got a cup of coffee. He'd walked out of the debriefing room and straight out the front door, bumming a ride from one of the other homicide detectives back to his car.

Seeing the bar open, he'd only wanted one small drink to take the edge off yet another bizarre night. Instead, he'd walked in to find Jessica Winslow, looking entirely too good in a figure-hugging top and a skirt so short that her mile-long legs were on display to every male eye in the place. Dressed like that, she was bound to attract trouble.

It was on par with his luck tonight to get thrown out of a bar for trying to protect her. He dabbed the napkin against his lip again and saw that the bleeding had slowed considerably. Crumpling the napkin in his hand, he tossed it onto the dash where it landed next to other wadded-up pieces of trash.

He glanced at his watch again and saw that it was almost three. Hell, he didn't even know why he was sitting here, waiting for her to come out. She sure as hell wouldn't appreciate it.

He heaved a sigh and settled in for a long wait because while he might not know
why
he was waiting, he knew he wasn't leaving until he saw her again.

At
three o'clock
, the doors to the bar opened and patrons began stumbling out. John sat a little straighter in his seat as he watched for Jessica. When she didn't appear, he grew concerned.

He reached for the handle of his car, about to go search for her, when the door opened again. He stayed where he was and waited. Like watching a movie in slow motion, the first thing he saw was a slim foot with painted toenails clad in a black high-heeled sandal. His gaze
traveled
up the slender ankle, past a toned calf to a shapely thigh that seemed to go on forever before the hem of the skirt blocked further view.

Her hips were slim, he noted, but shapely, and they curved into a narrow waist. The formfitting red top was just visible beneath the black leather jacket she now wore, but he already knew what lay beneath. Her breasts weren't large, but to his eyes, they were the perfect size and shape for her toned body.

As he watched, Jessica started walking down the sidewalk, but stopped after taking only a few steps. She pulled her purse in front of her, opened it and seemed to be searching it for something.

"Come on, Jess," John muttered to himself, growing anxious. He didn't like her being out there all alone. "You should always have the keys in your hand before you leave the bar," he lectured her, practically holding his breath until she pulled the keys out.

Then she scanned the street in both directions, probably trying to remember where she'd parked. If she couldn't remember that, then she was definitely too drunk to drive.

He reached for the door handle again, but then he saw her smile at something. Curious, he turned his head and saw someone walking toward her. From where he sat, John couldn't see the man's face, but the thought that it was the jock who'd accosted her before was more than a little irritating.

With his jaw still aching, and remembering the man's size and mass, John decided a show of force was in order. He reached for the baseball bat he kept on the floor behind the driver's seat and then opened the door and got out. About to walk across the street, he was forced to stop and wait for a car to drive by. It temporarily blocked his view until it passed and then John saw a sight that made his blood boil.

The jock had Jess pressed up against the side of the building, his body pinning her in place while his hands groped beneath her jacket.

"Hey! Get your fucking hands off her," he shouted, racing across the street. His grip on the bat tightened and suddenly it seemed less like a defensive weapon as his hands itched to smash it against the man's head.

The man seemed unaware of John as he ripped the jacket off Jessica and lowered his head as if to kiss her. John grabbed him by the collar and jerked him around, not caring if he choked the man. "I said, get your—"

The words died in his throat as the man turned and John found himself staring into Brody's face. Then recognition lit up Brody's eyes and the vampire smiled, baring his fangs.

John snapped out of his trance and swung the bat. Brody put up an arm to block the blow and the bat snapped in two. Shaken, John stared at the splintered piece of wood still clutched in his hand.

Brody, on the other hand, seemed unfazed and shoved John, sending him crashing into the side of the building. The impact knocked the breath out of him. How could he fight an opponent with superhuman strength?

John shook his head, trying to rid his vision of the white sparkling lights blinking behind his eyelids, and saw Brody lower his head once more to Jess's neck. She did nothing to defend herself and John thought she must be in shock. John knew he had to stop Brody before he killed her.

Scrambling to his feet, he reached for his gun. Then he remembered what Mac had said about guns and vampires. He looked around for a better weapon and with a start, realized he was still clutching the broken half of the baseball bat. Changing his grip so he held it like a dagger, he brought his arm down, stabbing Brody through the back where the heart would be. It was much harder to do than he anticipated and instead of crumbling to the ground, Brody howled in rage and lurched back, twisting his arm and torso in an effort to reach the bat and remove it.