Jeanne Stein - The Watcher

The guy last night, sitting next to me at the bar. This is the polished version of that guy. I see the similarities now. Brothers. God, did I screw them both?

I throw back the covers and pad naked into the bathroom. No need for coyness. I can hardly walk.

I lock the door behind me. Can't risk my fuck buddy walking in and noticing no reflection in the mirrors that line three of the walls. There are a couple of wet towels on the rim of the tub. He's evidently already performed his morning ablutions. I turn on the shower and step inside. I splash water on my face, duck my head under the stream and finger comb the knots out of my hair. I wash the smell and residual vestiges of sex off my skin. There seems to be a lot of it. I wonder if I fed from him while we had sex. I don't feel the rush that accompanies feeding, but I've never been dead drunk with a stranger before, either.

Dead. Drunk.

I'd smile if my face didn't hurt so much.

When I come back into the bedroom, wrapped in a towel, he's laid my clothes out neatly on the bed.

Jeans. Sweater.

And my gun.

I look around for my panties. They're probably around here somewhere, but it's too awkward to ask about them. Kind of a flashback to yesterday morning with Max and my bra.

Max.

Jesus.

Can't blame this one on the hunger.

I ignore the sick feeling in the pit of my stomach and go through the motions of getting dressed—slip the sweater over my head, pull on my jeans, clip the gun to the waistband.

I've stalled as long as I can. I turn around.

"This is really embarrassing, but I don't remember much about last night. Can you kind of refresh my memory?"

The guy has been gathering up his wallet and keys and shoving them into his pockets. He pauses, concern flitting across his face. "What don't you remember?"

"Well. Truthfully, I don't remember anything."

The concern settles in. Color rises in his cheeks. "Anything?"

I shake my head. "No. Sorry. You said I agreed to help you. Help you with what?"

If I'd kicked him, I don't think I would have gotten a more startled reaction. He stares at me, a terrible awareness springing into his eyes. "Are you even a bounty hunter?" he asks quietly. "Because that's what you told my brother you are."

I nod, relieved at least that I hadn't made up some fantastic tale about being a model—or a vampire. "Yes. I am a bounty hunter. Is that what you needed help with? Fugitive apprehension? Because I can do that. I just need a few facts."

Relief replaces some of the alarm on his face. "It's my ex-son-in-law. He's harassing my daughter. We've gotten a restraining order, but he's avoided being served. You said you could do it for us. That you could make him agree to stay away. You seemed pretty confident…"

His voice trails off as if maybe he's not so sure I can pull it off.

"Hey—" I stop, realizing I don't know his name. Another humiliation to add to the list. "Piece of cake. But I have to make a phone call first." Williams will be wondering about me by now. David, too, maybe, unless he's already packing for the move to L.A.

I look around for my purse. It's half-hidden under the Windbreaker on the chair. I retrieve my cell phone but realize when I flip it open that the battery is just about dead. There's a phone in the room, but I don't want to leave a call record in case I've been followed here. Williams will just have to wonder.

I snap the phone shut and turn it off to conserve what little juice is left. "No battery. Oh well—this shouldn't take very long. I can be back here by late afternoon, right?"

The guy nods. "No problem. My brother left this morning to tell Sylvie that we are on our way. You can ride back with him."

I take it that "Sylvie" is the daughter. He asks me then if I want breakfast. When I shake my head, he grins.

"It's no wonder. I've never seen a woman throw them back the way you did. But you can hold your liquor, I'll give you that. And it certainly didn't affect your performance, if you get my drift." His right hand drifts to his crotch in a cupping gesture that's both self-conscious and protective. "Ouch. You wore me out, lady."

Too much information. At least he's smiling. And I don't see bite marks on the guy's neck. If we had more than sex, I seemed to have cleaned up after myself.

He slips into a jacket and looks around the room. "I guess that does it. Are you ready?"

I smile and nod. No use telling him I wish to hell I could remember what it is I'm supposed to be ready for.

BEFORE WE GET ON THE HIGHWAY, WE STOP FOR gas at a filling station. It's the first indication of where I ended up last night. We're in Santee, in East County. If you asked me when or how I got here from a bar in San Diego, I couldn't tell you. We're in a late-model Ford pickup. One of the big ones with a bed liner and toolbox. Clean. He uses a credit card to pay at the pump, then leans in to ask me if I want coffee. When I nod, he goes inside giving me a chance to open the glove box and look for a registration or insurance card—anything to help me put a name to the body I evidently spent last night enthusiastically fucking.

Dan Simmons. Local address, El Centro.

I snap the glove box closed just as he reappears in the door, two jumbo cups in hand. He hands them in to me, climbs in, takes his back, and we're off.

Luckily, Dan does not feel the need to keep up a constant stream of chatter as we hit the highway. It's a long, boring ride to El Centro through some very unremarkable country. I lay my head back and close my eyes, pretending to sleep so I can properly berate myself for being so careless. I can't believe I did what I did last night. The last time I had indiscriminate sex I was a kid in college. Even then, I never got so drunk that I lost control. And I always took precautions. After what I saw in the shower, I'm pretty sure there were no precautions. If I weren't a vampire, I'd be beside myself with concern.

I'm still beside myself with concern. What if this guy had turned out to be a Revenger? He could have as easily staked me as fucked me. I could be a pile of dust right now. Dan is human, and that's fraught with its own consequences. Up until now, I've excused my extra-relationship dalliances on the basis that it was of necessity. I needed to feed. I'm pretty sure I didn't feed last night. Last night was all about being pissed off, getting drunk and getting laid.

Shit.

Well, now I know. Vampires can get shit faced and stupid just like humans. What I don't know is how it affects my physiology in the long run. I no longer have a functioning digestive system. Like intravenous feeding, liquids are absorbed directly into my bloodstream. Obviously, liquor is absorbed as quickly as blood. Will I gradually get last night back? Don't think it's a question I should ask Williams. Physical injuries are quick to heal. Even the soreness I experienced earlier is gone. Which makes me wonder what we did last night. This guy must be hung like…

What am I thinking?

What is wrong with me?

An inkling of understanding blossoms in my brain. This is why Williams and Culebra harp about avoiding or at least limiting human involvement to one dependable host. It's safer. Disillusionment leads to reckless behavior in vamps as well as humans.

It's warm in the car and before I realize it, I actually have drifted off to sleep. I know it because I'm awakened by the grip of a hand on my arm. The sensation brings me to consciousness with a snap and a growl.

Dan pulls his hand back. "Anna? Wow. That must have been some dream." He gestures to the road ahead. "We're almost there. Do you have any questions before I take you to meet Sylvie?"

I rub my eyes and sit up. I have a lot of questions. "Tell me again about Sylvie's ex."