Ruby Red Rebels

She expected neon splashing across the barren desert floor. She expected sleek convertibles and jacked-up pickups chromed to the hilt in the parking lot. She expected a bouncer the size of a Texas oilrig guarding the front door and music that made the air vibrate, seeping out every time someone exited or entered. Ruby Red had none of that. From behind the wheel of her battered ‘91 Mustang, Serena Darville stared in disbelief at the low-slung blot on the horizon. If it wasn’t for the telltale tumbleweed painted in scarlet filigree on the heavy front door, she’d think she was at the wrong place. This looked like any country-and-western bar in any backwater southern town. No way did this look like some kind of notorious vampire hangout. But it was. The tumbleweed she’d been told marked its threshold was right there, for any and all to see. Behind those weathered walls were some of the southwest’s most dangerous monsters. Getting drunk. Serena was an i***t to be voluntarily walking into their midst. Too bad she was also desperate. Turning the rearview mirror toward her, she checked her appearance one last time. Her black hair was pulled into a tight ponytail at her nape, sleek and efficient. The harsh style accentuated the angles of her face, the high cheekbones, the wide mouth, but those were the only indications of her Kiowa heritage. She was too much of a mutt these days to be able to claim kinship with the Native American tribe. With eyes the shade of summer moss and skin more likely to burn than tan, Serena usually got slapped with the “exotic” label. There had even been drinking games in college when friends would try and figure out where exactly her ancestors had come from. Not one person ever picked out the branch of the family that had turned out to be bloodsucking fiends. Of course, nobody ever called them that to their faces. That was the surest way to get a set of unwelcome fangs buried in your jugular. Grabbing her purse off the passenger seat, Serena climbed out of the Mustang, took a deep breath, and headed for the entrance. She didn’t bother locking the car. If one of the vampires inside wanted to steal her beater, Ford’s crappy locks weren’t going to be able to do a thing to stop them. A blast of heat walloped her as soon as she opened Ruby Red’s front door. With it came the pungent smell of cigarette smoke, the tickle of grease, and enough whiskey to make her lightheaded long before she reached the bar. There was music, too—Waylon Jennings and his “Lonesome, On’ry and Mean” sending an unwanted charge through her veins—and she had an unconscious sway to her steps as she cruised through the tightly packed tables for the first barstool she could see. The bartender stood in front of her, even before Serena managed to get her ass comfortable on the circular seat. He looked like the actor who’d played Wyatt Earp in the old fifties show, complete with square jaw, dimpled chin, and black-and-white exterior. Everything about him was a shade of gray, and against the neon of the various beer signs hanging on the wall, it made him stand out. “A Lone Star, please,” she said. He didn’t move. “You sure about that?” He had a voice that sounded like thunder before a huge storm. “This might not be the kind of bar you think it is, baby doll.” Deliberately, Serena fingered the simple silver cross that hung in the valley between her full breasts. “I know exactly what kind of place Ruby Red is. And don’t tell me you don’t serve beer. My shoes were sticking to the floor all the way over here.” The bartender stared at her for another moment before shrugging. “It’s your neck. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” As he turned toward the taps, Serena let out a long, silent breath. His wasn’t the first warning she’d gotten about the bar. She really hoped it wasn’t the last. Waiting for her beer gave her a minute to give the joint a closer look. The interior was as rustic as its storefront, though those weren’t peanut husks scattered on the floor. She bit the inside of her cheek to tamp down her automatic response to the polished bone shards and focused on the clientele, drinking in every pair of Levi’s, every tobacco-filled cheek, every belt buckle that she could see. Nearly three quarters of them were men, and the few women who interspersed the crowd looked just as rugged as their male counterparts. Nobody looked like they might know a thing about rare jewels. Best bet, she’d find somebody who thought Swarovski hired their own miners. “Here’s a little tip.” The murmured words in her ear came with a drawl and whiskey-soaked slide that would have raised goose bumps even if she wasn’t nervous about being in a vampire bar. “Always look ‘em in the eye, darlin’. Don’t do that, and they’re going to think you’re dinner.” Serena twisted around to find herself staring into the bluest eyes she had ever seen. Laugh lines marked their corners, and the sensual mouth was curved into an amused grin. His shoulder-length dark hair was mostly hidden by a white cowboy hat, swept back to reveal the silver studs in both of his ears. He hadn’t shaved, either, his jaw rough with stubble, but that didn’t hide the slight pallor in his skin. It just masked it a little. It probably made it easier for him to pass when he was in human company. Because if Serena didn’t know to look for it, she would never have pegged him for a vampire. It was never good when you couldn’t pick the enemy out of the crowd. “I’ll take that under advisement,” she replied, keeping her tone cool. The bartender placed her beer in front of her, giving her the perfect opportunity to turn away from the stranger’s attention. Her gaze flickered to the shot glass he then set down for her new neighbor. Apparently, she wasn’t going to be drinking alone. “See, already you’re asking for trouble. If I wasn’t such a gentleman, I’d be looking at you like a tasty treat right about now.” Behind the counter, the bartender snorted and shook his head before heading down to the opposite end of the bar. “Someone thinks you’re lying,” Serena observed. “Will thinks everybody who walks through those doors is a liar.” “Most bartenders usually know their patrons better than anybody.” “And most bartenders usually don’t finish their shift by draining the last patron standing.” The stranger was still grinning when she glanced over at him. “Take it as you will.” He clearly wasn’t going anywhere. Serena had half a mind to pick up her beer and move to one of the few empty tables, but then that might encourage some of the less attractive vampires in the place into thinking she was fair game. This one seemed content to play the game, and if he was easy on the eyes, what was wrong with that? He knocked back his shot with practiced ease and set the glass down on the inner half of the counter to indicate a refill from the bartender. “So if Will here knows his customers so well…” His mouth curved in amusement as he spoke, his gaze deliberately flicking over her form-fitting black tank top and the outline of her legs in her jeans. “I guess that means you’ve got a few backroom secrets of your own you’re toting around.” Only years of practice with cousins who could read every single body rhythm kept Serena’s heart from skipping a beat. “You’ve got an awful lot of opinions for me, considering I don’t even know who you are,” she replied evenly. The cold beer soothed her throat, making it easier to focus on the here and now, and not on the later when everything might go all to hell. “Max Markow.” He even tapped the front brim of his hat as he nodded at her, as if they were being introduced in polite Texas society. “Now you get to tell me your name.” “I get to? Did I win some door prize I don’t know about?” That easy smile returned. He kept his fangs well out of sight, this one did. “I’ve been called worse in my day.” In spite of her better judgment, Serena snorted. “You might even be called worse yet tonight.” He toyed with his shot glass as Will carried over a bottle of Jack Daniels and refilled it. “If it means I get to stick around with your company, I’m goin’ to reckon it’ll be worth it.” She sipped more of her beer, taking a minute to look around the room again. The song had changed on the jukebox, some retro country thing she didn’t recognize, and while a couple had taken to the tiny dance floor, almost everybody else remained in their seats. How many of them are human? I can’t be the only one in the room, can I? But the more she looked, the more convinced she was. Which made Will the bartender’s warning even more ominous. “Wanna dance?” The offer didn’t come from Max. It came from a gangly vampire with watery gray eyes and a receding hairline who’d sidled up to the bar when she wasn’t paying attention. Now, he had one hand braced on the counter next to her, pinning her in. “No, thanks.” Serena tried to make it sound less cold than she felt, but the way the new vamp gripped the bar more tightly meant her attempt hadn’t worked. “Now that isn’t very friendly of you.” She shrugged. “Considering I didn’t come in here to make friends, I don’t see where that’s a problem.” He leaned in, his thin lip curling back to expose his fangs. There was something caught in between two of his lower teeth, and Serena tore her attention away before she figured out what it was. “Come on, pretty girl like you wants to have lots of friends, I can tell. Legs like that were just made for—” “Finish that sentence, Darryl, and I’ll nail your tongue to the wall.” The threat came from Max, his good-natured tone still all too prevalent. When Serena glanced back at him, however, something cold had settled in his face. If she had harbored any doubts about him being a vampire—which she hadn’t, not in this place of all places—they would have disappeared with a single glance at the predatory gleam in his eye. “This ain’t your jurisdiction, Markow.” “Lucky for you. ‘Cause if it was, your ass would be ash instead.” Something about the set of his muscles told Serena it wasn’t an idle threat. The way Darryl immediately backed off told her the exact same thing. “You get tired of having to take that stick out of his ass, you know where to find me,” Darryl said to her. He ambled off, but not before he’d flipped Max off one last time. Serena whirled to face Max. “Jurisdiction? What the hell are you?” “What?” He feigned surprise. “You mean you don’t know everything there is to know about walking into a bar like this?” Clicking his tongue, Max picked up his shot and saluted her with it. “Here’s to learning new things.” Her jaw dropped, snapped shut, then opened again. “I know plenty,” she argued. “I definitely know how to deal with drunk guys in bars.” “Oh, Darryl isn’t drunk yet. He saves that for after he’s had his dinner for the night.” His intention didn’t go unnoticed. “I wasn’t going to be, no matter what you think.” “Because you’ve got a pretty little cross hiding between those prettier t**s?” His hand moved like quicksilver, faster than she could see. Serena only felt a slight tug on the back of her neck, and then her necklace was sitting on the bar in front of her, the clasp broken. “Hey!” Scooping the cross back up, she fiddled with the small loops, trying to get them to go back together again. Nothing worked. She ended up shoving the wad of silver deep into her front pocket. “I’m just saying—” “Well, don’t.” Serena picked up her beer and slid off the stool. “I didn’t come in here for company, and I definitely didn’t come in here for show-off vampires to try and prove just how ‘ooo, scary’ they can be. So if you don’t mind, Mr. Markow, I’m going to take my Lone Star, and I’m going to go sit at the other end of the bar, and you’re going to leave me the hell alone. Got it?” She didn’t wait for an answer. She just marched down the length of the bar and took a seat as far away from him as she could get. As soon as she lifted her mug to her mouth, Serena realized her mistake. Her new position had her facing the irrepressible Max Markow eye-to-eye, and as she gulped at her beer, he c****d a single brow in definite amusement. She almost choked swallowing it down, but as soon as she could, she set down her drink and swiveled to face the crowd. Her would-be dance partner Darryl was watching her from a corner table, though his attention kept darting to Max at the opposite end of the bar. Other vampires kept glancing in her direction, often enough for Serena to feel their hungry gazes like icy rain across her skin. But for the most part, everybody ignored her. It was like talking to Max had given her a get out of getting bitten free card, because she sure as hell should have been a tasty treat, at the very least. That was the way she had planned it. She chewed the inside of her cheek. It was a catch-22. If nobody talked to her, she was never going to find the diamonds. But she’d brushed off the one vampire who’d asked her to dance without even considering him as a possibility, and the other vampire who’d approached her now sat at the other end of the room, leaning back in his stool as he regarded the rest of the room. Talking to vamps—finding the bracelet she needed to get her father out of the trouble he’d buried himself beneath—was her only hope. She had followed the trail all the way to Ruby Red. If she gave up now, her father was a dead man. Draining the rest of her beer, Serena gestured for Will to come back over. “Another Lone Star.” She waited a few seconds, hoping that would make her next request seem casual. “So do you not get many people with a pulse in here? Or did I pick a bad night to show?” She tried to keep her voice low enough so that all the preternatural senses in the room wouldn’t pick up on every word. As it was, she could’ve sworn she saw Max frown over Will’s shoulder, but then the bartender was blocking her view, his broad shoulders bowing as he bent down to speak to her. “We get our fair share,” he said. “But I don’t think that’s what you’re really interested in knowing, baby doll.” “Oh?” She took a sip of her beer, hoping to quench the sudden dryness afflicting her throat. “And what is it you think I want to know?” “You want something,” came the blunt response. “A looker like you comes waltzing in here smelling like a Sunday spread, but you turn down a dance offer and walk away from Wild Bill Hickok back there. That means you’re looking for somebody in particular.” His too-full lips pulled back into a cold smile. “You got an agenda? You better be prepared to follow it through. ‘Cause you don’t come into Ruby Red looking for a little distraction. Humans only walk through those doors on their own if they want to ride the fang and risk a little more than a dance by the time they leave.” She was used to threats. She was somewhat used to vampires. But she wasn’t used to feeling so out of control of her situation. “Maybe you’re not as smart as I thought you were,” Serena managed. “Because not everything in this world is about a wham-bam-bite-me-ma’am. Some of us don’t give a flying f**k about where you put your fangs.” Though his smile faded, Will deliberately ran his tongue along the edge of his teeth, drawing her attention to the fangs he let descend. “Maybe not everything in this world. But this isn’t the world, baby doll. This is Ruby Red. And the rules are just a little bit different here.” She sat there, staring at him with eyes she refused to blink, until he shot her a sloppy grin and turned away. Only then did Serena allow the breath she’d been holding to slowly release, though she remained rigid on her bar stool. This had been a mistake. It wasn’t really her problem anyway. It was her dad’s, and if he could just stop believing every dumb thing people told him, he wouldn’t be in this mess in the first place. But that was the kicker. It was her dad. And she knew without question that he would be doing the same thing for her, if she needed his help. Of course, he probably wouldn’t have made it as far as this. Something shiny along the way would have distracted him. This was her own fault for not being able to let anything go. Across the bar, Max knocked back one more shot before sliding off his seat. A wave of relief washed through Serena, but that grounded out as soon as she saw him head in her direction. “Can’t you take a hint? I’m not—” His unrelenting grip on her elbow cut her off with a squeak. The smile he’d worn earlier was gone, but when he tried to start pulling her away from her seat and toward the door, she dug her heels in. “What’re you doing?” she hissed. His hold was like steel, though, and she stumbled into his hard chest when her footing slipped. “Let me go!” Except he wasn’t. His other hand had grabbed her ass as soon as she started to slip, and it had the unfortunate side effect of staying there as he held her firm against his body. “You’re out of your league, darlin’.” The words were low enough that she had to strain to hear them, much like she’d tried with Will and obviously failed. “Now I’m goin’ to walk you out to your car, and you’re going to buckle yourself up nice and tight, and you’re goin’ back to whatever big city you call home and forget all about Ruby Red, you got that?” “Who are you to boss me around like that?” “Well, will you look at Markow…” Darryl’s voice rode over the music, singsonging out to anyone who wanted to hear. “He must be hoping for some TLC when we get through with him here. Can’t say that I blame him. The girl’s the most biteable piece of ass to walk through those doors in a long time.” Her anger swerved directions, away from Max and toward the redneck vampire who couldn’t take no for an answer. Before there was a chance to do anything truly stupid, however, Max cursed beneath his breath, shoved her hard enough to send her sprawling to the floor, and whirled to face his opponent. He moved so fast, she never saw him pull the stake out. She didn’t even see it fly through the air. She just saw the surprised look on Darryl’s face as the wood embedded in his chest. And then the look of fury as he crumbled into ash.