Page 6 of Bad Blood Panther

The bartender rolled his eyes. “I can’t hear you,” he shouted over the noise. “What?”

Jenny raised her voice, feeling like an idiot. “A Coke, and maybe a burger?”

“Grill’s closed.”

Oh. Of course it was. It was late. She should have realized that. “Um, nachos, then? And I wanted to ask if you know—”

The bartender was already gone. Dammit. She dug money out of her purse while she was waiting for him to come back. It was another ten minutes, and she was starting to get uncomfortable. Two guys standing a few feet away were checking her out in a way she didn’t like.

Come on, she thought. Jeez, how long does it take to make nachos?

The bartender came back and slapped down her Coke and nachos. “Ten-fifty.”

Jenny screwed up her courage. “I wanted to ask if you know anything about—”

“I’m busy, Kitten,” the bartender said. “Ten-fifty.” He reached for the twenty in her hand.

Asshole. Now she was getting pissed. She pulled the twenty back out of reach. “I’m looking for information on the Bad Blood Crew,” she said. “Do you know anything about them?”

“Yeah,” he said. “Don’t mess with them. They’re crazy. Now are you going to pay for this shit, or should I take it back?”

Jenny handed over her twenty. There was one bartender who wasn’t getting a tip. Jerk-face.

She ate her nachos slowly, feeling stupider and stupider. What had made her think she could walk into a bar full of strangers and just ask them random questions? The guy on her right was totally into his girlfriend, and had his back to her. There was nobody on the other side, just those guys staring at her and freaking her out.

As if her thought was a magnet, one of them sauntered over to her, his friend a step or two behind. She couldn’t tell what he was—there were too many scents in here. From his lean build and lithe movement, maybe some kind of cat, like her.

“Hey darlin’,” he said. “Whatch’all doin’ here alone? Lookin’ for someplace to stay tonight?”

Oh, God. Right to the sex. Not even “can I buy you a drink?”

Just go away, she thought. Go way go way go way, her cat echoed.

“Not exactly,” she said, not making eye contact. “Looking for an old friend.”

“I c’d be your new friend.” He reached over to her plate and scooped up a cheese-filled nacho.

Eeuw. Gross. And rude.

“No thank you.” She pushed the nachos toward him. She’d suddenly lost her appetite. “You could maybe tell me where to find him, though. He’s in the Bad Blood Crew.”

His friend, standing behind him, spoke up in a deep rumble. He was big—and hairy, with a beard that went halfway down his chest. Bear, probably.

“Bad Bloods?” he said. “Pretty l’il thing like you don’t want to mess with them. They’re fucked up.”

Her nacho thief nodded vigorously. “Fucked up.”

She was getting tired of hearing that.

She turned to look at the bear. “Do you know where their territory is?”

He shook his head. “Nobody goes to their territory. Not without an en-graved invitation.”

Damn. That let out appearing on Xander’s doorstep.

The nacho thief moved around to her other side. She didn’t like that—now she was hemmed in between them.

Get out, her cat said.