Free Second Chance by Heather Brewer Page B

that?”
    Slowly, and doubting that he should be admitting to it at all, Joss nodded. He tried to act as if it was no big deal, like he’d listened to a thousand vampires’ thoughts in the past week alone. But it was hard to hide his own shock. Why had he been able to hear the bartender’s thoughts, and not Vlad’s or Otis’s? What about this moment was different than those? His heart jumped before settling back into a more normal rhythm.
    Wiping his forehead dry with the back of his hand, the bartender moved down the bar and checked on a few other patrons. He poured one a mug of something hot and gave two more cups of half tea, half blood—the vampire’s version of an Arnold Palmer. When he came back to Joss, he whispered furiously. “Listen. The only reason I’m telling you this is because my father is forming his own hunting party to take care of the issue. That trial today? It’s to make everything nice and legal before my father unleashes his dogs on the city. The whole thing is causing enormous problems for Elysia, risking exposure and endangering our kind. But personally, I think taking action will only expose us further.”
    Joss listened, waiting for whatever it was that the bartender was trying to share with him. He’d already said a mouthful, but something—instincts, maybe—told him that there was more. “Boris happens to be a personal friend of mine. I’ve tried talking to him, tried reasoning with him, even tried bribing him, but he’s blood drunk, and there’s no appealing to his good sense. He’s killing just to kill now, and endangering the lives of good vampires everywhere with his senseless acts. I know that only one option remains—taking him down. But my father will rip him to shreds. If you promise me that you’ll do it quickly, and as painlessly as possible—and to leave V Bar and never return—I’ll tell you where Boris is.”
    Joss nodded slowly, his heart hammering in his ears. This was exactly what he needed, and he couldn’t believe he was getting this information straight from a vampire. He debated whether to share how he’d come across the information with the other Slayers, but decided that would be a bad idea. What if they stormed V Bar? He would have broken a promise to the friendly bartender and possibly endangered his group. No. That was a crazy thought—probably something put there by the vampire bartender. Still . . . some information was safer locked away in his brain.
    The bartender searched Joss’s eyes, perhaps looking for a modicum of understanding, and then scribbled an address down on a slip of paper. He slid it across the bar. Joss reached for it, but the vampire shook his head curtly, his demeanor shifting abruptly. “Grab it and get out, but act casual and keep your thoughts bland.”
    Laughter poured into the bar as someone entered behind him. It had a warm, friendly air. “I’ll never understand how you can wear that hat in this heat, my friend.”
    “I love this hat.”
    Joss straightened. He knew the second voice. It was Otis. Vlad’s uncle. From Bathory. Every molecule in his body tightened with tension. If Otis saw him here, he was as good as dead.
    The first man spoke again before taking a seat on the stool to Joss’s left. “And the girl who gave it to you?”
    “You know the answer to that, Enrico.” From the sound of it, Otis was standing directly behind Joss. The bartender poured two cups full of a red liquid that sent a wave of queasiness through Joss, then passed them to Enrico, who turned and handed one to Otis. In his peripheral vision, Joss caught a brief glimpse of Otis’s sleeve.
    “Are you ever going to tell her?”
    “I’m fairly certain she knows.”
    “Fairly certain? Otis, you’ve just proven the universal truth that no one—not even someone with telepathy—truly understands women.”
    They both laughed then, and Joss wondered how he was ever going to escape from V Bar unseen.
    Apparently, the bartender was