picking up my last piece of toast, Cole prowled into the dining room like a cat, his eyes scanning the room until he spotted me. He’d taken off his jacket and acquired a fedora, which looked damned good on him. A couple of heads turned as he sauntered across the room to me, carrying my big duffel bag.
“Your luggage, ma’am,” he drawled, setting the bag next to me on the booth seat.
Out of curiosity, I lifted the handle. The bag was definitely heavier than it had been when I’d flown in—which meant Cole had packed the other guns. “Thanks,” I told him.
He flashed a grin. The waitress came over to ask him what he wanted, blushing a little when she met his eyes. “Nothing for me, thanks,” Cole said, smiling up at her. I got the impression he was a guy who smiled a lot. “I’ll just watch her eat.” He somehow made it sound flirty.
The waitress giggled. After she’d left, Cole turned back to me.
“Is Beau paying you for your time tonight?” I asked.
“Nope. But it’s always a good idea to do a favor for the cardinal vampire. The major seemed a little surprised that you asked for me.” He gave me a sly look. “I think he suspects you’re going to take me up on that offer to spend the night with me.”
I just took a slow sip of my coffee, ignoring his raised eyebrows.
“So, how do you know Maven?” I said when I’d put the cup down.
“She didn’t tell you? She turned me.”
“I figured that out, yeah. But how did you meet her?”
He leaned back in his chair, smiling at me again. “That’s a very personal question. Will I get to ask one in return?”
I shrugged, one of the few movements I could still do without extra pain. “You can always ask. Doesn’t mean I’m obligated to answer.”
His smile didn’t waver. “You are just determined not to flirt, aren’t you?”
“Pretty much.” I popped the last bite of toast in my mouth.
When I didn’t say anything else, Cole’s crooked smile faded. “I was in the Onward Brass Band in New Orleans in 1905, when the last epidemic of yellow fever hit the city.” He fussed with the fedora for a moment, and added, “I think Maven just liked my music.”
I noticed he was meeting my eyes. “You’re not afraid of me,” I stated.
Cole smiled again, draping his arms over the back of the booth on either side. “No, ma’am. Maven said you never press vampires without an excellent reason, and I figure I must be on your good side after tonight.”
I laughed. “True.” He had an expectant look, so I waved with my right hand. “Go ahead, ask.”
“Why’re you here?” he said without preamble. “I mean, from what I hear, before tonight Beau just had you tilting at his windmills. Why do it?”
I thought of Odessa. I didn’t really want to go into the whole saga of my birth mother’s history and the milites mortis, so I just said, “It’s complicated.”
He gave a big theatrical eye roll. “Well, I suppose you did warn me.”
“Do you like it here?” I asked, just out of curiosity.
He gave a short laugh. “Hell yes. Love Atlanta. Now, it’s not the best jazz city in the South, but I have to keep a low profile, and I get good gigs here.”
“Like playing at Promenade?” My voice came out harder than I’d intended, and Cole’s expression soured.
The server chose that moment to come over, and I asked her for the check. When she left, Cole leaned forward and looked me in the eye. “Lady, I don’t much care about Promenade, or Beau for that matter. He’s an okay guy, and a pretty good leader, and that’s good enough for me. Maybe you’re feeling bad about getting in bed with him, but don’t put that shit on me.”
“I wasn’t—”
Cole held up his hand to stop me. “I ain’t a soldier. I’m not even a very good spy. What I am is a damned good musician.”
He draped his arms across the back of the seat again, his sly smile returning. “Wine, women, and song, that’s what I’m here for. Though it ain’t exactly wine. If the price of that is playing for a bunch of white assholes once a week during the season, well, that’s the cost of doing business.”
He was right. I’d been judgmental. “I’m sorry,” I said, meaning it. “That was a dick thing to say.”