Neal never took his eyes off her, his expression turning just a bit too calculating for Blake’s comfort. “She any good?”
Blake shrugged. “I’ve had better.” And if you touch her I’ll rip your fingers off one by one, then shove them up your ass. “There’s something weird about her.”
“Yeah, well.” Neal set his water on the bar and grabbed one of the glasses. He mixed up a Daiquiri with enough skill to show he’d done it before. Then he pulled a little bottle out of his pocket and emptied something into the drink. He lifted the drink to Blake, whose uneasiness escalated to full-scale red alert. “A few ounces of this will make her normal.”
Blake almost went for his throat. He knew a challenge when he saw one. But then he thought of that movie, he thought of Cass, he thought of Sunny’s cover and he thought better.
He kept his own face blank, but cold sweat chilled his spine as he watched Neal cross the room to where Sunny sat with the ski bunnies.
Sunny smiled over at him and all he could think about was how she’d tasted when he’d kissed her goodbye. Her smile dimmed a little when he didn’t return it.
“The bartender asked me to give you this,” Blake heard Neal say. Demon genes came in handy sometimes. Neal set the drink on the table in front of her.
Don’t drink it, Blake thought at her. She was a cop. She should know better. Right? Blake shot her partner a look, thinking he just might need him, but he walked through the door with two bunnies on his arm, unaware or uncaring of what was going on around him. Under the circumstance, Blake had no time to go after him. Knowing Sunny needed him here to keep his eye on her, he turned back to face her and hoped like hell she could read his distress through the professional mask he wore.
Sunny glanced over at Blake, then up at Neal. She pushed the drink away with her fingertips. “Tell him thank you, but I’ve had my limit for the night.”
“Are you crazy?” Tabby whispered loudly. She shoved the drink back in front of Sunny. “You don’t say no to Blake Ashen.”
Blake figured things couldn’t get much worse than this. If she didn’t take it now, someone was going to start wondering why not. Neal already knew he and Sunny’d been at it.
Sunny reached for the drink, smiled over at Blake and took a small sip.
He was really worried now. She might know better than to actually drink the whole thing, but by accepting the drink she’d given Neal an excuse to sit down and talk to her. And that wasn’t what Blake wanted. It wasn’t what he wanted at all.
Michelle’s mind raced, trying to remember all she could about date-rape drugs, wondering how much she could safely drink before she found herself in serious trouble.
She had to assume he wasn’t trying to kill her, at least not yet. Surely she should be able to drink a few sips before it kicked in. Spilling it would be too obvious.
“For Pete’s sake, Sunny,” Tabby said in exasperation. “Not much wonder you can’t get laid. If you aren’t going to drink that, then I will.”
Just for that, Michelle was tempted to let her have the drink. Instead, she raised the glass to her lips and pretended to take another small taste. Already, her tongue felt numb. What on earth had he put in it?
Neal slid into the booth beside her. “What’s with the ladylike little sips?” he asked, winking at the other women at the table. Before Michelle could stop him, he raised the drink to her lips and tilted the glass. She swallowed a large mouthful out of instinct.
The hell with worrying about being too obvious. She jerked hero head back and the rest of the drink spilled down the front of the sweater beneath her open ski jacket, although the cold, satisfied smile in Neal’s eyes told her she’d gotten enough.
She was in it up to her ass now, and she had to get out of there—just as soon as she found her feet, which seemed to be AWOL.
Then Blake was at her side. He had a towel in his hand and was helping to mop her up. Michelle’s head, however, was no longer in the game. The room was spinning and her tongue felt two sizes too large for her mouth.
“Christ, that hit her fast,” she could hear Neal saying, sounding for all the world like he gave a crap. “This is all my fault. I guess she’d already had too many. Ash, my man. Why don’t you take her other arm and we’ll help her up to her room?”
Where was Tabby, who was supposed to be her friend, in all this? Michelle wondered indignantly, trying to find her missing feet. She was going to let two strange men manhandle Michelle back to the room they shared?
Of course she was. She probably thought a threesome might do “Sunny” some good.
A hand slid beneath her jacket to the gun in the shoulder holster Blake had asked her to start carrying, and for a moment, stark terror filled her. Then the hand shifted and it was Blake who hoisted her up and found her feet for her.
“I’ve got her,” he said. “Lead the way.”
Blake caught her as her knees gave out, hoping like hell that she was playing along.
So this was how they found their victims. Or at least one of the ways, because he’d be surprised if it had actually worked on Cass. Even half-demons had a pretty good tolerance for any kind of drug. That was why they went for the hard stuff.
He lifted Sunny into his arms, relieved to find how light she was. Definitely, she was at least partly playing along because dead weight was harder to carry. And
