“Sure.”
Good. That’d solve the potential problem of having Dana wait on them if they sat in the dining room and causing a scene about him and Jace tailing her. It’d also allow them to keep an eye on her. Hopefully appeasing his empty belly would reenergize him enough he could figure out how the hell to explain everything to Dana in a way that wouldn’t make her run screaming from the room.
Right. Like that wasn’t going to happen. It’d be a damn miracle if she didn’t book the first flight she could find to Timbuktu.
He strode into the bar and chose a darkened corner booth that provided an unobstructed view of the main dining area. Jace slid onto the bench seat across from him and reached for the appetizer menu. A frazzled-looking waitress approached and scribbled their order for the sampler platter and two beers before racing off again.
Aiden started to lean against the upholstered back of the bench. The maddening pheromones he’d picked up on earlier tickled his nostrils and he went still, every cell in his body on high alert. Without even spotting Dana, he knew the exact second she entered the dining room. At least her tantalizing scent kept him well apprised of her whereabouts. A strange added bonus he hadn’t counted on. Transfixed, he watched as she rushed toward a crowded table, her hands frantically smoothing the front of her navy polo. She’d pulled her glorious locks into a high ponytail and it bobbed in tandem with her harried jog.
A pint of beer plunked onto the cardboard coaster in front of Aiden, the brew’s foamy head overflowing the glass. He ignored it. The only thing making him salivate at the moment was the delicate arch of Dana’s neck as she slammed to a halt and graced her customers with a welcoming smile. Okay, the soft, bouncing swells of her breasts were also doing a fine job making saliva pool in his mouth.
“Bro, you still in there?”
Aiden tore his gaze from Dana and glanced at Jace. “What?”
“Food’s here. Dig in before I eat it all.” Jace swiped a potato skin loaded with sour cream and bacon bits. He bit into it with an appreciative groan. “Shit, that’s good.”
Distracted, Aiden heeded Jace’s advice and grabbed a chicken strip. Barely registering its taste, he tracked Dana’s progress around the table. Unlike the young girl who’d greeted them, Dana’s broad grin was the genuine article as she stooped to listen to something one of her customers had to say. Her laugh rang free, pouring like warm honey over him, and he shivered in sensory overload.
“What the hell is going on with you?”
His attention returned to Jace and he found his brother staring at him. “Nothing,” he lied. “Why?”
Jace narrowed his eyes before scooting to the edge of the booth and craning his neck to peer around the divider. He swiveled back around, a huge grin stretching his mouth. Aiden gave serious thought to knocking it off Jace’s face. Instead, he growled beneath his breath and reached for his beer.
“For someone who wasn’t too keen on fulfilling the contract, you’re sure looking mighty enraptured of our little Dana.”
“Go fuck yourself.” Lifting his pint, Aiden shot his brother a steely glare of death over the rim. For all the good it did him. Jace only sputtered a laugh in response. Unfortunately, when Jace laughed, the entire world tended to listen. Yeah, he was that damn loud.
Concerned about the curious glances they were beginning to collect from the neighboring diners, Aiden leaned forward, intent on muzzling his brother if necessary. Jace’s scrutiny lowered to the glass clenched in Aiden’s hand and his booming guffaws died a quick, merciless death.
“Holy shit on a stick.” Wearing an expression like someone just brained him with a two-by-four, Jace attempted to yank the glass from Aiden.
“What the hell are you doing?” Aiden jerked his beer out of reach, trying not to slosh it all over the table in the process. He pointed at Jace’s unattended glass. “You’ve got your own. Keep your grubby paws off mine.”
“I don’t want your damn beer, idiot. Look what’s on the front of your glass.”
Knowing what usually got his horndog brother excited, Aiden half expected to see a topless woman emblazoned on the mug. So when he twisted his wrist and an image of two crossed swords piercing a dragon’s wing popped into view, he almost dropped his glass. “What the—” His gaze shot upward and locked with Jace’s.
“Yeah, my thought exactly.”
There had to be a logical explanation. Because there was no goddamn way the official emblem of the Drakoni hunters—scourge of the earth and royal pain in the asses—was etched on the mug in his hand.
Only it was. Wishing otherwise wouldn’t make the ugly thing vanish.
Dread sitting like an elephant on his chest, Aiden moved his attention to the bar, where a burly guy who looked like he could bench press an oil tanker was pouring shots of Jim Beam. The ambient glow from the overhead track lighting tinged the tattoo riding the bartender’s beefy arm a sickly yellow. It didn’t disguise the overall craftsmanship of the inked design—an exact duplicate of the one gracing the beer mugs. Aiden’s attention fell on the man straddling one of the stools, chatting up the bartender. The leather jacket draped on the back of the stool bore the same despised insignia.
Blood pumping against his eardrums, Aiden shifted his focus to the man’s female companion. Sure enough, the letters D and H were stitched in blood red on the center panel of her leather jacket. A quick survey tallied a grand total of nine people sporting some form of the Drakoni hunter’s hallmark.
Aiden resisted the urge to kick his own ass. He’d been so mesmerized by Dana, he hadn’t paid attention to the relevant details—like the fact his sacrifice just led him into the enemy’s lair.
Chapter Four
Dana stuffed her memo pad in the rear pocket of her pants and headed to the bar to fill drink orders for the Landrey crew. Leo, the bartender, spotted her and walked to the pass with his patented badass swagger, his shaved head gleaming.
With a deft flick, he tossed his bar rag over his shoulder. “Thought you were working the Ren fair this weekend.”
“Pauline called in sick.” Dana squeezed behind the counter and grabbed two soda glasses.
“Shit, that girl’s a walking germ factory.”
“It’s because of Tyler. Poor little guy is always picking up some nasty crud from daycare.”
Leo grimaced. “One more reason I’m never having kids.”
“Famous last words.” Chuckling, she snatched the nozzle for the cola dispenser and topped off the glasses. “Besides, you’d look adorable lugging a baby around in one of those sling carrier thingamabobs.”
His expression panicked, Leo shot a look over his shoulder, nearly wrenching his neck if the grimace on his face was any indication. “Keep your voice down. I don’t need Jane getting any ideas.”
Dana peeked toward the end of the bar, where Leo’s girlfriend was slurping away at a beer, studiously ignoring the college bowl game while she leafed through Detroit Bride Monthly. “Sorry to break it to you, but Jane is way past the idea stage.”
“I hate that damn magazine. They have a five-page spread featuring celebrity dog weddings. That’s beyond fucking wrong.”
“Come on, Yeager would look too precious for words escorting Jane down the aisle in a snazzy doggie tux.” She bit her lip to keep from laughing at the image of Leo’s macho Rottweiler prancing along a rose-petal-strewn runner in a bowtie and top hat.
Leo’s eyes narrowed. “You are an evil, evil woman.”
“Yep, that’s exactly what Raul said after I suggested he should shave his legs before putting on fishnets.”