Fall of Night The Morganville Vampires - By Rachel Caine Page 0,49

it worried me. I’d been bitten by a devil dog, after all. There could be side effects. But I wasn’t running a fever, or feeling sick or anything like that, and I knew that going to a traditional doctor wasn’t going to reveal anything.

The last thing I wanted to be was at the mercy of the vampires, even their resident doc, who was a pretty good guy as bloodsuckers went. I shuddered at the thought.

Once I made it to the back, I dumped the bin on the counter and drew fresh hot water, and tried not to think about what the hell Claire, of all people, was doing at a bar on game night. She must have been with someone. Who? Friends, maybe. Yeah, it had to be friends. This wasn’t her kind of scene, and I knew that. She wasn’t just here on her own, and she wasn’t here to make new drunk friends, either.

Then why did every bone in my body demand I walk out, take off the apron, grab her and march her out of there? She wasn’t in any danger, except of being trampled in the crowd. Nobody would hurt her. Pete ran a tight ship, and anybody who got out of line answered to him. Nobody was eager to do that.

Why was she here?

She couldn’t be looking for me. She couldn’t.

I washed up ten glasses, then dried my hands, took out my new phone, dialled, and propped the thing up on the counter away from the dishwater, on speaker. It took three rings, but Michael finally answered. ‘Hey,’ I said. ‘No time to talk, but did you tell Claire where I was?’

‘What? No, man. You made me promise. I won’t tell her. That’s your business.’

‘Eve? Would Eve tell her?’

‘No. She wants to, but she won’t.’

‘Crap. Well, Claire’s here.’

‘Here, where?’

‘In the bar. Where I’m working. Oh, and living. In the room upstairs. The job kinda comes with room and board. So it isn’t like I can permanently duck her if she catches on.’

‘Did you talk to her?’

‘Hell no, I didn’t talk to her! I’m washing dishes in the back!’ That, and I was scared she’d hate me for following her. Scared she’d think I’d broken my promise, although I really hadn’t – I was keeping away. Just … within reach, if she needed me. ‘Look, just – I don’t know if she saw me or not, but if she asks to talk to me, just tell her I’m at work. It won’t be a lie.’

‘You’re sliding over the line from best friend to friend who asks me to cover up for him,’ Michael said. ‘Just flashing the warning sign, man. Asking somebody to lie to your girlfriend is never a good step in a relationship.’

‘I know. I just – look, I’m going to tell her, but I want her to have the time she wants, that’s all. I’m trying to stay out of her way—’ I was interrupted by a yell from the bar area; they were out of beer mugs, again. I yelled back that they were coming, and sure enough, Luis, the other dishwasher, picked up the slack and took them out. ‘Look, I’ve gotta go. We good?’

‘We’re good,’ Michael agreed. ‘Watch your back.’

‘I hear ya. My worst problem right now is dishpan hands.’

‘I’ll send you some lotion and nail polish. Want me to buy you a mani-pedi, too?’

‘Mother—’ He hung up on me before I could get the rest of it out, which was probably for the best. I shook my head and scrubbed glasses – damn, I hated lipstick, at least in this context – for another twenty minutes or so before Jesse suddenly tapped me on the shoulder. I jumped and almost dropped a martini glass, which would have come out of my not-so-great pay, but she caught it on the way down. She had great reflexes.

Too great.

‘Your girlfriend is Claire Danvers?’ she asked me, and set the martini glass in the clean tray.

‘Yeah. Is she still here?’

‘No, I never saw her in there, but I got a message she’d be waiting in the back. Do you want to talk to her?’

Yes. I wanted to talk to her so badly it made my stomach churn. ‘No,’ I said. ‘Just don’t tell her I’m here, okay? It’s complicated.’ Dammit, my arm twinged again, and the muscles burned and contracted. I rubbed it, frowning, and wondered if I’d been overworking the recovery just a little.

‘Copy that, friend. All right, she asked for me,

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