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Incubus Dreams :: Гамильтон Лорел
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“But I’m driving.”
I didn’t argue. I did get my vampire hunter kit and my equipment bag. The equipment bag was new, but it held more weapons. It carried lots of guns, lots of ammo, pointy weapons, and it all looked like a medium sized black duffel bag, luggage thing.
Micah didn’t argue about the extra firepower. He just held the door for me, since I had a bag in each hand. We met Nathaniel coming up the sidewalk. He grinned at me, until he saw my face and the bags.
“What’s wrong? What’s happened?”
I looked at Micah, and he looked at me. “She’s got a warrant, so she can carry her entire kit with her.”
“You aren’t going to catch vampires with her, are you?”
I sighed. “Right now, we’re going to go rescue Ronnie. She’s drunk as a skunk over the river at Incubus Dreams. The bartender took her keys.”
Nathaniel’s eyebrows went up. “Why go to that dump?”
I laughed and dropped a bag so I could hug him. He hugged me back.
“Come with us, and we’ll discuss it in the car. I want to get there before she does something stupid.”
“You mean like get drunk at a strip club where I know the dancers will do a lot more than just strip for money?”
I looked at him, and my eyes were wide. “Tell me you don’t mean…”
He shrugged. “That’s the rumor, and I believe the person who told me.”
“Oh, shit.” I started to run for the Jeep, because having sex with a prostitute stripper would qualify nicely as something Louie would regret in the morning. The trouble with that kind of revenge is that you regret it so much more than whoever you’re trying to hurt. I threw the bags in the back. Micah drove, and Nathaniel got in the back. We were off to try to save Ronnie from a fate worse than death, or something like that.
71
Incubus Dreams sits by itself in the middle of an open field, a distant stand of trees, and a gravel parking area. It sits by itself, partly by accident and partly because it is the only all-male show on this side of the river. Bright multicolored neon surrounded the entrance. There was a large printed sign on the door that read, “All-Male Dancers.” It was a last chance for the drunks to make sure that this was what they wanted to see, and they weren’t about to stumble into the wrong club.
The three of us stepped into the foyer, or whatever you call an open space with an empty display case and a little desklike area.
“But I’m driving.”
I didn’t argue. I did get my vampire hunter kit and my equipment bag. The equipment bag was new, but it held more weapons. It carried lots of guns, lots of ammo, pointy weapons, and it all looked like a medium sized black duffel bag, luggage thing.
Micah didn’t argue about the extra firepower. He just held the door for me, since I had a bag in each hand. We met Nathaniel coming up the sidewalk. He grinned at me, until he saw my face and the bags.
“What’s wrong? What’s happened?”
I looked at Micah, and he looked at me. “She’s got a warrant, so she can carry her entire kit with her.”
“You aren’t going to catch vampires with her, are you?”
I sighed. “Right now, we’re going to go rescue Ronnie. She’s drunk as a skunk over the river at Incubus Dreams. The bartender took her keys.”
Nathaniel’s eyebrows went up. “Why go to that dump?”
I laughed and dropped a bag so I could hug him. He hugged me back.
“Come with us, and we’ll discuss it in the car. I want to get there before she does something stupid.”
“You mean like get drunk at a strip club where I know the dancers will do a lot more than just strip for money?”
I looked at him, and my eyes were wide. “Tell me you don’t mean…”
He shrugged. “That’s the rumor, and I believe the person who told me.”
“Oh, shit.” I started to run for the Jeep, because having sex with a prostitute stripper would qualify nicely as something Louie would regret in the morning. The trouble with that kind of revenge is that you regret it so much more than whoever you’re trying to hurt. I threw the bags in the back. Micah drove, and Nathaniel got in the back. We were off to try to save Ronnie from a fate worse than death, or something like that.
71
Incubus Dreams sits by itself in the middle of an open field, a distant stand of trees, and a gravel parking area. It sits by itself, partly by accident and partly because it is the only all-male show on this side of the river. Bright multicolored neon surrounded the entrance. There was a large printed sign on the door that read, “All-Male Dancers.” It was a last chance for the drunks to make sure that this was what they wanted to see, and they weren’t about to stumble into the wrong club.
The three of us stepped into the foyer, or whatever you call an open space with an empty display case and a little desklike area.