Tainted Blood (Hell's Belle Book 2) Read Online Free Page B
Author: Karen Greco
said as he walked up and sat beside his boss.
I sighed, reached for the Grappa and grumbled. "That's not what I meant."
Alfonso was muttering under his breath. He'd better not throw a spell at them. The last time he tried, it backfired. It sounded like he was only swearing. A lot.
I poured out the Grappa and slammed it down in front of my uncle. He patted my hand gently. I pulled it away like his fingers were on fire.
"I think I'll take a Gin Fizz," Bertrand said with a sly smile. "Use Bombay Sapphire, please."
Anger welled up in the pit of my belly. Lovecraft was one of his? Of course. Did good old H.P. sell his soul for his success? He trusted the wrong demon.
I wore my best poker face and pulled down the Bombay Sapphire gin from one of the upper shelves. We kept the crappy stuff within easy reach. Babe's was primarily a college bar, so there wasn't much demand for the pricy booze.
In a tense silence, I measured out the gin, soda water, simple syrup and a splash of lime. I dropped a maraschino cherry into the concoction and slid it over to Bertrand. He took a sip and sighed, looking content with the drink.
"Are you here to check on my cocktail-making skills? Or are you going to tell me what this is about?"
"We have someone coming into town, and we need you to keep a close eye on him." Bertrand savored the drink.
"Yeah, well, I'm not a babysitter, so forget it," I said. I reached around and replaced the gin on the high shelf. As soon as I pulled my hand away, the bottle took off like a rocket across the room, smashing against the wall. I froze, staring at Bertrand. Good thing the bar was empty, save for Alfonso. He continued to sip his drink, only raising an eyebrow at the outburst.
"This is not a request, Nina," he clarified. Fabulous.
"I owe you nothing," I growled. "Consider your request denied. And you're paying for that bottle of gin. That was the expensive shit."
"Sun is bright today, no?" Bertrand stirred the cherry in his glass by the stem. "I wonder where your vampire friend Frankie is this afternoon. Any ideas?"
"Talk," I said through gritted teeth. Goddamn it. Frankie never asked for this daywalking ability, but that was the price he paid for getting a favor from Bertrand. Vampires may see it as a blessing to be able to walk in the sun, but this meant that Frankie's life was tied to Bertrand getting what he wanted. Double damn.
"My son..." Tavio began, almost tearing up.
"Wait, stop," I held up my hand. " You have a son?"
He smiled very slightly, his fangs barely visible under his top lip. "Yes, I have a son."
"Is he a vampire, like full-on?" I asked.
Tavio gave a sad little nod. "Yes, for about two centuries now."
"You probably know him. Or, I should say, know of him," Bertrand took over. "He is quite a famous musician. Have you heard of Killing Haley?"
These guys had me knocking back shot number two, which I almost spit out when I heard the name of the band. "There's a rumor that the lead singer killed his girlfriend. That's how they got their name. There's truth to that?"
Tavio just sighed and shook his head. "Matty couldn't have done it." He left it at that.
I raised my eyebrows. "So he's a vampire. Why do you need me to babysit?"
"We need you to keep an eye on the whole band. Things tend to get...out of hand when Killing Haley plays."
Bertrand pulled a thick manila envelope from inside his coat and dropped it on the bar, pushing it at me. I shot him a dirty look, but picked it up and emptied the contents. Sifting through them, I saw it was filled with news clippings about the band. Post-show riots outside the concert venues, fans trampled during performances, suicides by venue employees and plenty of unsolved murders. Every clipping had a picture of Matteo Purefoy, his porcelain white skin in direct contrast to dark eyes rimmed with kohl liner and blue-black hair teased out like a British New Wave artist from the century prior. His hypnotic eyes almost invited fan mayhem.
I tugged at
I sighed, reached for the Grappa and grumbled. "That's not what I meant."
Alfonso was muttering under his breath. He'd better not throw a spell at them. The last time he tried, it backfired. It sounded like he was only swearing. A lot.
I poured out the Grappa and slammed it down in front of my uncle. He patted my hand gently. I pulled it away like his fingers were on fire.
"I think I'll take a Gin Fizz," Bertrand said with a sly smile. "Use Bombay Sapphire, please."
Anger welled up in the pit of my belly. Lovecraft was one of his? Of course. Did good old H.P. sell his soul for his success? He trusted the wrong demon.
I wore my best poker face and pulled down the Bombay Sapphire gin from one of the upper shelves. We kept the crappy stuff within easy reach. Babe's was primarily a college bar, so there wasn't much demand for the pricy booze.
In a tense silence, I measured out the gin, soda water, simple syrup and a splash of lime. I dropped a maraschino cherry into the concoction and slid it over to Bertrand. He took a sip and sighed, looking content with the drink.
"Are you here to check on my cocktail-making skills? Or are you going to tell me what this is about?"
"We have someone coming into town, and we need you to keep a close eye on him." Bertrand savored the drink.
"Yeah, well, I'm not a babysitter, so forget it," I said. I reached around and replaced the gin on the high shelf. As soon as I pulled my hand away, the bottle took off like a rocket across the room, smashing against the wall. I froze, staring at Bertrand. Good thing the bar was empty, save for Alfonso. He continued to sip his drink, only raising an eyebrow at the outburst.
"This is not a request, Nina," he clarified. Fabulous.
"I owe you nothing," I growled. "Consider your request denied. And you're paying for that bottle of gin. That was the expensive shit."
"Sun is bright today, no?" Bertrand stirred the cherry in his glass by the stem. "I wonder where your vampire friend Frankie is this afternoon. Any ideas?"
"Talk," I said through gritted teeth. Goddamn it. Frankie never asked for this daywalking ability, but that was the price he paid for getting a favor from Bertrand. Vampires may see it as a blessing to be able to walk in the sun, but this meant that Frankie's life was tied to Bertrand getting what he wanted. Double damn.
"My son..." Tavio began, almost tearing up.
"Wait, stop," I held up my hand. " You have a son?"
He smiled very slightly, his fangs barely visible under his top lip. "Yes, I have a son."
"Is he a vampire, like full-on?" I asked.
Tavio gave a sad little nod. "Yes, for about two centuries now."
"You probably know him. Or, I should say, know of him," Bertrand took over. "He is quite a famous musician. Have you heard of Killing Haley?"
These guys had me knocking back shot number two, which I almost spit out when I heard the name of the band. "There's a rumor that the lead singer killed his girlfriend. That's how they got their name. There's truth to that?"
Tavio just sighed and shook his head. "Matty couldn't have done it." He left it at that.
I raised my eyebrows. "So he's a vampire. Why do you need me to babysit?"
"We need you to keep an eye on the whole band. Things tend to get...out of hand when Killing Haley plays."
Bertrand pulled a thick manila envelope from inside his coat and dropped it on the bar, pushing it at me. I shot him a dirty look, but picked it up and emptied the contents. Sifting through them, I saw it was filled with news clippings about the band. Post-show riots outside the concert venues, fans trampled during performances, suicides by venue employees and plenty of unsolved murders. Every clipping had a picture of Matteo Purefoy, his porcelain white skin in direct contrast to dark eyes rimmed with kohl liner and blue-black hair teased out like a British New Wave artist from the century prior. His hypnotic eyes almost invited fan mayhem.
I tugged at
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