Forbidden Nights with a Vampire(13)

 

A huge bouncer stood guard at the dark red door. His nostrils flared as he took a sniff. Phil knew he didn't carry the usual mortal scent. Since most Vamps didn't know about shape shifters, they didn't realize the significance of his different scent. They simply thought he was a strange-smelling mortal.

 

"Place is closed," the bouncer grumbled. "Get lost."

 

"I'm here to see Vanda Barkowski."

 

"You know Vanda?" The bouncer took another sniff, and his beady eyes narrowed. "You're an odd duck."

 

"Not even close." Phil showed his MacKay Security & Investigation ID card, knowing the Vamp bouncer could see it in the dark. "I'm returning Vanda's car. She left it at Romatech."

 

The bouncer still eyed him suspiciously. "I'll have to frisk you."

 

"Fine." Phil raised his arms to shoulder height so the bouncer could pat his navy polo shirt and khaki pants—the MacKay uniform for guards who didn't wear kilts.

 

"What's this?" The man patted his pants' pocket.

 

"It's a chain. Silver."

 

The bouncer jerked his hand away. He hesitated, then asked, "You're not planning on using it on anyone?"

 

"No." Phil smiled, understanding the bouncer's predicament. The Vamp couldn't confiscate the silver chain without giving himself severe burns. Luckily for Phil, silver was only painful when introduced internally, as in silver bullets. "You can call Connor Buchanan at Romatech if you want to check on me."

 

The bouncer shrugged his massive shoulders. "I'll just keep an eye on you." He opened the door. "Go on in."

 

Phil was instantly bombarded with loud, pounding music and red and blue laser lights slashing across the large renovated warehouse. As his eyes adjusted, he noted the stage was empty. The male dancers must be on break.

 

A group of Vamp women were writhing on the dance floor. A few Vamp men sat at tables, drinking glasses of Bleer topped with pink-tinted foam while they watched the women dance. Their eyes narrowed when they spotted him. Competition.

 

He scanned the huge room but couldn't see Vanda. The bouncer was standing just inside the door, watching him. He recognized the woman behind the bar. Cora Lee Primrose, former member of Roman Draganesti's harem. She'd shed her Southern belle hoop skirts in favor of more modern garb—hip hugger pants and a sparkly halter top.

 

She did a double take when he eased onto a barstool. "Phil? Is that you?" she yelled over the loud music. "Land sakes, I haven't seen you in ages."

 

"Hi, Cora Lee. You're looking great."

 

"Why, thank you kindly." With a giggle, she flipped her long blond hair over her shoulder. "Would you like something to drink? We have a few mortal drinks like beer."

 

"I'll have one of those." He stood so he could pull the wallet from his back pocket.

 

"No, you don't. It's on the house." She cast a flirtatious look at him as she filled a glass. "Land sakes, you've filled out nicely over the years."

 

"Thank you." He settled back onto the barstool. "So, is Vanda here?"

 

With a sigh, Cora Lee set the beer in front of him. "I should have known you'd come to see her. The way she used to talk about you—goodness gracious, we were scandalized."

 

His first sip of beer went down with a gulp. "Why? What did she say?"

 

"What didn't she say? I do declare she would describe every part of your manly physique from the top of your head down to your toes." Cora Lee gave him a sly smile. "She was quite poetic about your buttocks."

 

He gulped down more beer.

 

Cora Lee wiped the counter, still smiling. "She always claimed you had a crush on her."

 

His hand tightened around the glass. "Did she, now?"

 

"According to Vanda, she can make you do anything she wants like a trained puppy."

 

He downed the last of his beer and slammed the glass onto the bar. "Where is she?"

 

Cora Lee pointed to a series of doors along the back wall. "The first one is her office."

 

"Thanks." Phil slid off the stool.

 

"Don't forget to knock," Cora Lee warned him. "Vanda's got the dancers in there. It could be kinda awkward if you just barge in."

 

He stiffened. "Why? What's she doing with them?"

 

Cora Lee shrugged. "The usual. She has to personally check out the costumes and dances before the guys go on stage. Quality control, you know."

 

Phil's jaw clenched. "You don't say."

 

"Oh, I do. One time I went in there, and Terrance was prancing around naked." Cora Lee giggled. "Vanda told him to put a sock on it."