Free Medium Rare: (Intermix) by Meg Benjamin

something he’d already figured out, around the time Rose Ramos had ambled into his office.
    Ms. Rose Ramos was trouble on a stick.

Chapter 7
    Rose spent a couple of hours searching through newspaper databases for articles on William Bradford in San Antonio. What she mainly found were photos of Bradford at charity events. He was usually with some attractive woman, seldom the same one twice.
    Considering the size of the donations the charities wanted, Bradford was apparently either very successful or sought out for his celebrity value. Maybe both.
    Around seven she went to the kitchen for a sandwich. She should have been delighted to be on her own for a change. Instead, she found herself thinking about giving Delwin a call. Maybe he’d talked to the police and found out something more about Alana DuBois.
    She picked up her phone and started to select his number from her address book, then caught herself just in time. What the hell was she doing? She didn’t really want to talk to Delwin, did she? Why would she contact him?
    She had a sudden image of Delwin the way he’d looked when she’d first walked into his office. The slightly overlong, blue-black hair, the odd amber-colored eyes that tipped up a bit at the ends. The nose that looked like it belonged on an ancient Roman statue. Delwin might look a little like a man with some personal demons, but she had to admit it—he was surprisingly hot.
    Which had no bearing whatsoever on her plans for the rest of the night.
    Sighing, Rose punched the number for Nightmare on Novalis into her cell phone. Maybe she could get some more details from Augie on that potential customer.
    The phone rang five times then switched to voice mail. Rose disconnected, brow furrowing. Maybe she should just go to the club. She felt restless suddenly. Probably something else that she could blame on Delwin.
    She remembered his expression when she’d told him she’d been to the club before, that polite disbelief. Okay, so she’d been wearing her thrift shop clothes, but still. She really hated feeling like somebody’s homely cousin and dressing like a bag lady. And she was good and tired of Delwin assuming she was a charity case, even if that was what she wanted him to think.
    She headed for her bedroom, tossing off her T-shirt and cutoffs. Maybe it was time for her to do a little hell-raising of her own, just to remind herself that she could. The rest of her work could wait until tomorrow. Tonight she was going back to Nightmare on Novalis, this time to have a little fun.
    Forty minutes later, she studied the new bouncer running the door at the Nightmare. He was checking IDs with minimal interest, flicking his gaze from face to face, making sure they were the same as the ones on the driver’s licenses.
    Okay. Hell-raising time.
Rose caught his glance deliberately, putting enough heat into it to singe his eyelashes. Then she peeled off the jacket she’d worn to walk from her car.
    The bouncer blinked, swallowed, and caught his breath in a small gasp. “Have a good evening, ma’am,” he stuttered, handing back her driver’s license.
    Rose smiled, showing teeth. “I intend to.”
    The Nightmare looked slightly less dismal at night than it did during the daytime, but it still didn’t bear much close inspection. There were a couple of tables full of goth girls near the front of the room, all black leather and chains, but not too many other customers yet.
    The goths were barely legal and probably too poor to buy more than a couple of drinks during the evening. On the other hand, they added enough atmosphere to almost make up for the cheesy fake spiderwebs in the corners and the Frankenstein’s monster doll slumped behind the bar.
    Rudy had turned on the accent lights that made him look a little like the bartender in
The Shining
. Augie would probably have had him in full zombie makeup if he could have gotten Rudy to go along with it.
    Rose climbed onto a barstool, letting her black leather