Must Love Hellhounds

move.”
    He finally shifted back a few inches. Enough that she could pull open the passenger door and drop the crossbow inside it. Rodney was almost completely healed, but he’d gotten blood all over the interior of the rental car. Damn. The Guild would cover the expenses, but she didn’t particularly want to ride around in that mess. “I have to deliver the package.”
    “Let’s talk to him first.”
    She closed the passenger door. “And why would we do that?”
    “Aren’t you curious about who cut him?” He had ridiculously long lashes, she thought. Dark and silky and completely unfair on a man.
    “Probably some vampire hate group.” She frowned. “Morons. Never occurs to them that they’re attacking someone’s husband, father, or brother.”
    He kept staring at her. “What?” She rubbed at her face, glad her dark skin tone hid her stupidly hot reaction to this stranger. But no harm in looking, right?
    “They told me you had brown skin, brown eyes, black hair.”
    That sounded about right. “Who’s ‘they’?”
    “I’ll tell you after we talk to the vampire.”
    “Carrot and stick?” She narrowed her eyes. “I’m not a rabbit.”
    His lips curved up a little at the corners. “For the sake of camaraderie.” Reaching into his battered leather jacket, he pulled out his Guild ID.
    Curious enough not to cut off her nose to spite her face, she jerked her head toward the car. “I’ll go into the front seat, take off the necklet.” Unfortunately—or fortunately, depending on your point of view—vampires couldn’t speak while chipped. “You get into the back and make sure he doesn’t—”
    “I won’t fit in the car.”
    She took him in. It was all she could do not to ask him to strip naked so she could lick him from head to toe. “Okay,” she said, stuffing her suddenly energetic hormones back into storage. “New plan. I’ll get him to lower the window, and you put your arm around his neck while we talk.”
    And that was what they did. Rodney was more than happy to chat once Sara introduced herself.
    “You like to shoot people.” He made it sound as if she were a maniac. “With a bow and arrow!”
    “You’re behind the times—I switched to a crossbow last year.” It was faster, but she kinda missed her specially designed bow. Maybe she’d go back to it. “And it doesn’t even hurt.”
    “Says you.”
    She blinked. “How old are you?”
    “I just turned three.” Vampires counted their age from the time of their Making.
    Sara shook her head. “And you tried to run? Why the fuck would you do something so stupid?” His sire, Mr. Lacarre, was way past mad.
    “I don’t know.” He shrugged. “Sounded like a good idea at the time.”
    Clearly, they weren’t dealing with the sharpest knife in the drawer. “Oooookay.” Her eyes met Deacon’s. Not a ripple in their night-shadow green depths, but she could’ve sworn he was holding back laughter. Biting off her own smile, she returned her attention to Rodney. “Simple question.”
    “Oh, good.” The vampire grinned, showing both fangs, something the old ones never ever did. “I don’t like hard things.”
    “Who cut you, Rod?”
    He swallowed and blinked rapidly. “Nobody.”
    “So you tried to decapitate yourself?”
    “Yeah.” He nodded, which meant Deacon was holding on very lightly. Not that it mattered. Sara had her crossbow as insurance.
    “Rodney.” She put all the menace she was capable of in that single word. “Don’t lie to me.”
    He blinked again and—oh my God—he was going to cry. Now she felt like a bully. “Come on, Rod. Why are you scared?”
    “Because.”
    “Because . . .” She thought about what would scare a vampire that bad. “Was it an angel ?” If it had been his sire, she couldn’t do anything about it except report the bastard to the Vampire Protection Authority. However, it was also possible the attack had been orchestrated by one of Lacarre’s enemies, in which case the angel would take care of it himself.
    “No.” Rodney sounded shocked enough to be telling the truth. “Of course not. The angels Make us. They don’t kill us.”
    And the boy was living in la-la land. “So who else scares you that bad?” She caught Deacon’s eyes again at that moment and found her answer in their no longer amused depths. “A hunter.” Or someone Rodney had mistaken for a hunter. Because real hunters didn’t kill vampires.
    Rodney started sniffling. “Please don’t hurt me.