“I’m sorry, sweetie.”
“It’s okay. He’s been telling me he was ready to go and see his wife.” She lay on the couch with me and leaned her head against my shoulder as I hugged her. “Shayna had a delivery today. It’s a reminder, you know. Life does go on.”
Shayna grinned my way. “The family said you delivered their first child and wanted me to tell you hi.”
Shayna’s positive and cheerful personality made her the ideal person to help women through the stress and pain of labor. My favorite part was the delivery. I loved babies. The best part of my job was handing a mother her child for the first time. But it also made me a little sad. Children in my future didn’t seem possible without a father.
Taran swore as she undid her hair. “If I ever consider working an extra shift, just shoot me. Some idiot overbooked the cardiac lab by three patients. And I was the only one who could start an IV. Seriously, what are they teaching these bitches in nursing school these days?” Out of all of us, Taran seemed an unlikely Florence Nightingale. But she knew her stuff. And after taking care of our foster mother, she had a soft spot for the elderly.
Taran took the last pin out of her hair and fluffed her dark waves against her shoulders. “What did you do today, Ceel?”
“I went out with Misha. Bloodlust has plagued his home. He’s had to kill twelve of his vampires, but not before one drained his poor human maid. He has until the next full moon to discover the cause or be sentenced to death. Oh, and get this: He wants me to help him kill the master vampire he thinks is responsible.”
Nothing like a little supernatural drama to shut up a bunch of chatty girls.
“Well, shit,” Taran finally said. “I think we could all use a drink.”
Between the tripped-out supernatural paparazzi, the severely deranged infected vampires, and my fixation on a steamy werewolf, the last thing I wanted to do was party. But seeing as I was actually considering helping one master vamp kill another, then yeah, a few beers might not be a bad idea.
I preferred to dress for comfort rather than fashion. Yet I’d allowed Taran to shove me into her Rodeo Drive–meets-Vegas clothing and adorn me with cosmetics—just to get her off my case about possibly helping Misha. It worked.
She and Shayna happily glided ahead of us through the sea of gyrating bodies at the Watering Hole. I wrapped my arm around Emme and led her through the rough crowd. Humans naturally avoided the path of a tigress, despite my five-foot-three-inch frame, but these selfish drunks would trample anyone as tiny and passive as Emme.
Dance music pounded harder than the feet hitting the floor to Gaga’s latest. We ambled to the rear bar, where Bren was talking to two women. He winked one of his blue eyes when his werewolf nose picked up our scent. “Hey, babes. Take a seat!” He motioned to a booth a buxom brunette and her male escort had just abandoned.
“My goodness. That girl is so popular. Every time I see her, she has a different date.”
I supposed Emme missed the dance party in the guy’s pants. “She’s a prostitute, Emme.”
Emme did a double take. “She can’t be. She dresses nicely and lives in Tahoe.”
Taran laughed. We’d caught up and were close enough to be heard. “That’s because the skank charges more than we make in a week, Emme. Her biggest problems are sore knees and her growing immunity to penicillin.”
“Why would her knees—”
Emme’s deep blush told me she figured it out. Thank God. I wasn’t a “you can ask me anything” type of gal.
We were about to sit when two girls jumped into the booth. I wouldn’t have cared as much if they hadn’t knocked Emme aside in the process. The closest one paled as she caught sight of me. She yanked her friend’s arm and quickly found someplace else to be. Bren joined us, drinks in hand. He handed me a Corona with a lime before taking one for himself and having a seat next to me. “Nice scowl, Ceel. I think you actually made the brunette mess her pants.”
I watched them until they disappeared. “I barely looked at them.”
Bren rubbed at his dark scruffy beard as he laughed. “Trust me, babe. Even your subtle glances are scary as hell.”
He took a long pull on his beer and draped his arm around me. I leaned against him. “Is Danny coming?”
“No. He’s in Santa Barbara at some stick-up-your-ass science convention, trying to get laid.”
I quirked a brow. “You can get laid at a science convention?”
Bren chuckled. “I could. I don’t think Dan can. He’s trying to bang some biochemist working in the research lab next to his. For his sake, I hope she’s as hot as he claims. His last lay could scare Christ off the cross.”