A Dark Kiss of Rapture Read Free Page B

are you going to find Mrs.
Baron?”
    “I’m emailing you his prints.” Sitting back,
he ran a hand over his shaven head. “It’s probably a long shot to
hope they registered when they mated, but it won’t hurt to check.
I’m also sending you a video. They recorded the killing that
brought me here. I found it on a jump drive bracelet Baron was
wearing. The recording shows a blond woman doing the deed, but I
can’t be sure that’s legit because they sent a doctored version to
Adrian that shows me as the killer. That’s what brought him to
Chicago.”
    Vash whistled. “They set you up.”
    “My guess is Adrian was leverage. Baron was
under the impression that Syre will do just about anything to stay
in Adrian’s good graces, including throwing me under the bus. I
think his plan was to offer me a mate and sanctuary from the
Sentinels after Syre washed his hands of me.”
    “You got all that in the few minutes you let
him breathe?”
    “He wouldn’t shut up. One of those assholes
who likes to listen to himself talk.”
    “All right. I’ll have Torque look at the
prints and video, see what he can dig up. You gonna hang around
Chicago for a while?”
    He nodded. The data search was in good hands
with Torque, Syre’s son. No one dug up intel better or faster. The
rest would be up to Raze. “I’ll wait to hear back from Torque and
spend some time on the streets. Maybe they’ll come to me.”
    “Watch your back.” Crossing her long legs on
the couch, she leaned toward the screen. “And don’t trust Adrian.
He’ll throw you under the bus, too.”
    Touching a finger to his brow in salute, he
acknowledged the warning and signed off.

CHAPTER 3
     
    When he was asked later what drew him to the
small jazz club in an upscale part of Chicago, Raze didn’t have an
answer. The place wasn’t his style with its small round tables,
live singer, and elegant patrons. But he’d been drawn to it and the
sultry voice of the female entertainer that floated into the street
on the night breeze. Maybe because it was so different from the
hard-edged clubs Torque helmed that gave fledglings a safe place to
find blood and sex, and—most importantly—register their name and
sire for the records. Raze thought maybe what he needed was a
palate cleanser. Something different.
    Damn it. He was restless and unsettled. He
could barely stand to be in his hotel room. Even with the
television on and the internet at his fingertips, he felt isolated
and stifled. He was beginning to wonder if Baron’s bullet had been
tainted in some way. It wasn’t like him to... brood. As endless as
his life was, he still didn’t have time to waste being a pain in
his own ass.
    He paid the club’s cover charge and went
inside, discovering a small open space with rust colored walls
adorned with massive impressionist canvases. Pendant lights offered
intimate illumination, except for at the bar, where the blue glass
shelves were lit with bright white light. The floor was covered in
multicolored mosaic tiles and patrons danced freely wherever they
found an open space, giving the whole establishment a comfortable
bohemian feel.
    Sliding onto a barstool, he noted the
bartender. The lovely blonde on point looked like she just might be
what he needed with her sleeves of tattoos, low-slung leather
pants, and curvy body. Her hair hung in dreadlocks to her waist and
was held back from her delicate face with a black bandana. She
glanced at him, looked away, then immediately glanced back. She
licked her pierced lower lip and made her interest known with a
heated glance.
    When she’d finished serving her customer,
she came over. “What’s your poison?”
    “Shiraz.”
    Her brows rose. “Really? Wouldn’t have
pegged you for a wine drinker.”
    “No?”
    “No. Jameson, maybe. Or Glennfiddich.” She
poured expertly and set the glass in front of him. “In the mood for
something else?”
    His fingertips slid lightly up and down the
stem of his glass.