“How do you know?” she demanded, feeling insulted. She happened to like classical guitar.
“It’s not you, querida. No one’s heard of him unless they’ve been to this place. He doesn’t record, he doesn’t travel. He simply plays his guitar.”
Lana gave him a curious look. There were layers to Vincent Kuxim. Layers wrapped up in a very pretty package. She blinked and brought herself back to reality. Pretty or not, he was a vampire and a player. And she wanted no part of either.
Chapter Six
“VICENTILLO, MI corazón! Tanto tiempo sin vernos!”
Lana stood in the doorway of the small, crowded cantina and watched as the woman greeted Vincent like a long-lost friend. Or a lover. She called him her heart, although she did add that she hadn’t seen him in a long time. So maybe they were old lovers, still friends. Fuck buddies, maybe, Lana thought nastily and didn’t know why she cared.
The woman had been beautiful in her youth. You could see it in the smooth, golden glow of her skin, the flash of her dark brown eyes, the soft curve of her jaw. She was lovely still, but age and life were reflected in her face now, too. That life had been a good one, though, if her broad smile was any indication. She was the very picture of a woman who’d found a life she wanted and lived it to its fullest.
Lana wondered at the stab of envy cutting into her chest. She had a good life, didn’t she? She was doing what she wanted, something she loved. Sure, she couldn’t see herself chasing down bad guys when she was forty . . . or fifty, like Vincent’s latest admirer. But for now, she was exactly where she wanted to be. Wasn’t she?
Vincent certainly seemed as happy to see the woman as she was to see him. He had a big smile on his face—not the snarky grin he usually favored Lana with, but a genuine smile filled with warmth and something more than simple affection. Had they been lovers? Their close embrace certainly spoke of a long and intimate familiarity.
“Marisol, te me haces más bella cada vez que to miro,” Vincent said, gazing down at her. You’re more beautiful every time I see you.
The woman, Marisol, brushed away the compliment the way beautiful women did when they thought the sentiment was true, but were pretending modesty. She and Vincent kissed cheeks and then went in for a full-on lip lock. Okay, maybe that was an exaggeration. Their mouths touched, but Lana didn’t think there was any tongue involved. Once the kissing was done with, they hugged again, then exchanged a few soft words. Marisol patted Vincent’s chest and started toward Lana, moving with purpose. Lana drew back before she realized that Marisol wasn’t aiming for her, but for a small desk in a shallow alcove on the wall to her left.
Vincent followed and the two of them continued their conversation, speaking Spanish so rapidly that Lana had to strain to catch what they were saying. Even then, she couldn’t be sure she was translating every word correctly, but the general context was clear.
“Rodrigo showed up again, and you know I can’t say no to him,” Marisol was saying over her shoulder to Vincent as she bent over the desk.
“Rodrigo? Shouldn’t he be in your bed?”
“Vincent! What kind of question is that?” she exclaimed, turning to gaze up at him, one hand to her chest in a gesture as scandalized as it was fake. “Besides, you know I like younger men,” she added with a lascivious wink that confirmed Lana’s earlier suspicions.
“More than one, as I recall,” Vincent teased back, which had Marisol fanning her face.
“Well,” she said, clearly still flustered by the memory Vincent had invoked, “it means I have only the one room, but it’s yours if—”
“That’s fine,” he assured her, even though Lana found the words anything but reassuring. One room? “Lana’s my bodyguard,” Vincent continued. “She’ll stay with me.”
Lana’s stare bored holes in his back as she contemplated all the ways she could kill him without moving a foot from where she stood, but he remained blissfully unaware. So much for vampire telepathy. Either that, or he was ignoring her.
Marisol handed Vincent a key, then stretched up to kiss him, her hand lingering along his jaw. “You know where it is, my darling. Will I see you tomorrow night?”
“Of course, do you think I would leave without hearing Chencho play?”
“Sweet boy.” She patted his cheek, then hurried back to her guests, but not without giving Lana a thorough head to toe scan on her way past.
“Come on,” Vincent said, turning toward Lana and tilting his head to the outside door. “We have time to clean up and get you something to eat before sunrise.”
Lana couldn’t help noticing that his voice was all-business, completely lacking the warmth he’d shown to Marisol.
“I’m your bodyguard?”
“I thought you’d prefer that to lover.”
She scowled at him. “Look, if you’d like to stay here with—”
“Lana.”
She looked up to meet his gold-flecked eyes.
“I’m tired,” he told her. “I may be a vampire, but I don’t enjoy sitting in a car for hours at a time any more than you do. I want a shower, and then I’m going to sleep.”