Thanks again to Murgatroid for being there when I needed her and doing an excellent job as usual.

The haze of smoke and stench of cheap beer hung like a miasma over the interior of the bar. My eyes began to sting. As a barmaid I should be used to it. The Red Ladies was not what you could call a high end establishment. The dim interior lights and flashing stage lights could not hide the worn down varnish on the paneling and the faded posters on the wall. Even through the haze it was evident the club had seen better days.

Despite the thin crowd, there were three fabulously thinly clad girls rolling effortlessly upside down and around poles. As much as I love to dance I didn't think I could ever claim to be good at it again.

Horace and Dwayne, father and son, came in behind me and pretended to check out the girls. They picked a table while I took a seat at the bar.

"What can I get you, Blondie?" The bartender's unkempt beard was a foot long. A dirty, blue bandanna was tied tightly on his head, no doubt to hide what he was making up for with the beard.

I opened my mouth to order my usual gin and tonic and stopped. I couldn't. But what business would an apparently single woman have in a bar ordering a diet coke? I opened and closed my mouth like a goldfish.

"You here for the audition?"

"Yes!" I had no idea what I would be auditioning for but it seemed like a good idea, so I went with it.

"Then you'll need to speak to Mark over there." He nodded toward the tables next to the stage. The man sitting there had hair that would give the bartender's beard a run for its money.

I looked over at the father and son duo, strategically located to get a good view of the whole place. I made eye contact with one of them and walked over to the mountain of wilderness in a leather jacket. As I approached Mark's table, I could see the corner of a design on the back of his jacket. It wasn't visible enough for me to decipher, but what I saw seemed strangely familiar.

"You here to show us what you got, sweetheart?"

I guessed that was Mark. It wasn't hard to get from his head that they were auditioning strippers. It explained the number of girls on the poles with such a thin crowd. Me dancing on a pole wasn't going to happen, with or without the baby.

"Actually, I'm here about a waitressing job." I could only go with what I knew at this point.

"You sure about that?" Mark asked. He stared at my tits like they were on sale.

"Don't know nothing else and, besides," I smiled and turned on my brightest southern charm, "Nobody wants to see some baby's momma on the stage." That quenched any desire Mark had for me in an instant. His attention quickly turned back to the stage.

My fact finding mission was going no where fast and I was getting a little annoyed.

"Sweetheart, you have to show us more skin before the song is over! This ain't a fucking cabaret," Mark shouted. Without glancing in my direction he asked, "So who told you about the job?"

I could only tell the question was directed at me because he wasn't hollering. This was the opening I needed.

"Oberon."

I had all of Mark's attention. "Obie? Really? How's the old devil these days?"

Mark's performance was Oscar worthy. I would've been fooled by his congeniality, too, if I hadn't heard the lightning response in his head. Oberon had dropped off the face of the earth after the Gilbert brothers were sent to ruffle him up. The word was they'd stabbed him to death. By the time they heard he was still alive and tracked him, the trail was cold. Mark couldn't wait to get his hands on the double crossing scumbag.

"Oh, he was just some trucker who came into the diner I was working at. I told him that I needed some extra cash with the baby on the way and he told me you guys might be hiring. It's not like we're bffs or anything, if you know what I mean." I knew I had my stupid smile plastered on my face and I hoped my words were convincing enough. They weren't.

Mark believed he'd spooked me. He didn't know what my deal was, showing up at the bar like I had, but they weren't going to let any connection to Oberon go that easily.

"Let me buy you a drink. Any friend of Obie's is a friend of mine. What's your name sweetheart?"

"Hadley." It was the best I could come up with on the fly.

"Well, nice to meet you Hadley. You just sit tight for a second here and I'll just take care of our new hires and be right back." Mark motioned to another guy in a leather jacket and he came over.

"Clay. This here's Hadley. She's a friend of Obie's."

Clay's eyes widened and he said, "Oberon? Really? No shit?" Clay's acting wasn't even in the same hemisphere as Mark's.

"He was just a passing customer really-not even an acquaintance. Maybe I should come back when you're not auditioning so many lovely ladies…" As I got up to leave, Mark pushed me back into the chair.

He clapped Clay on the shoulder. "Keep her company while I get hold of Dax."

Mark didn't bother to keep up the friendly façade. This situation was devolving fast. This was not good. As Mark got up I got a look at the patch on the back of his jacket. The picture was a large skull with a spindly crown on it. A snake protruded from its mouth like a tongue and underneath was the title "Lords of Mayhem".

Shit!

I wasn't anyone who was abreast of the criminal underworld, but even I'd heard of the Lords of Mayhem. They were a national biker gang with involvement in drugs, weapons, prostitution—you name anything illegal, they had hands in it. Most recently the motorcycle club had come up in the news about some violent turf wars with rival gangs; most notably a massacre in the basement of a gang club right here in Dallas. The papers said the carnage was so severe, the coroner had trouble identifying the number of victims until DNA results came back. That's how I heard about them, but I'd never seen the club logo until today. That's why the skull on Mark's jacket looked familiar.

The same design was tattooed on Oberon's back.

The most important thing was to get out of the bar; I could digest what I'd learned later on. As Clay stood there, arms crossed, towering above me, I stole a glance in the direction of Horace and Dwayne. They had already sensed something. Their eyes were alert and poised for action. I glanced at Clay and pretended to touch my necklace, subtly making a slicing motion around my throat.

Horace and Dwayne got the message. I watched as Horace, pretending to be drunk, tripped into Clay, subsequently blocking his view of me. Dwayne whisked me at super human, or half Were, speed toward the door.

"Ma'am, next time you're going to get us mixed up in biker business, we're going to have to charge more."

I found that statement strange. Why would Weres be apprehensive of humans, regardless of what gang they belonged to? But I never got a chance to ask Dwayne, or Horace.

I never made it to the door.

Despite its run-down décor, the Red Ladies strip club had a substantial amount of patronage. Just as we approached the main entrance of the club, Horace sped past Dwayne and me to get out of Dodge before the bikers could realize what happened. The entrance was crowded with people and Dwayne moved in front of me to lead the way. Just as Dwayne slid between two people, the opening between them closed and I was knocked back a few steps. It was like running into a wall.

What the hell were vampires doing here?

The vampires intentionally blocked the door. I looked up at them and didn't recognize either of them. I hoped their arrival wasn't related to me. I scuttled toward the wall and tried to blend into the crowd by the entrance. One of the vampires looked young, probably in his twenties when he was turned and, judging by the length of his sideburns and his hairstyle, he was turned in the last century; sixty to seventy years ago tops.

The other one was short, no taller than five foot three and he was definitely older. His arms and upper body were muscular, as though he'd been strength training; like an archer, or a farmer like Bill. He could have come from any point in history over a century ago.

I could see Horace and Dwayne looking through the door trying to gauge my position. However, with my back against the wall trying to hide from the bikers and the vampires, I was out of their line of sight.

"Where the fuck is Mark?" The younger vampire bellowed, his voice almost sonic, making it crisp and clear over the noise of the music and the crowd.

Everybody fell silent.

"What the fuck do you want, Jerome?" Mark grinned as he pushed through the crowd.

The younger vampire looked livid. "What the fuck do I want? I want you to FUCKING…"

Smash. All the liquor behind the bar was destroyed.

"…PAY…"

Crash.

All the poles on the stage came crashing down.

"…YOUR FUCKING…"

Screams. People were running a trampling over each other, further pushing me against the wall and away from the door.

"…DUES!"

Between each word Jerome said, the other vampire wrecked part of the bar and people were panicking and clearing the place out. As soon as it looked safe, I edged toward the entrance again.

I could see Eric through the doors, engaged in a heated argument with Horace. Dwayne caught sight of me and tried to get back into the club against the current of people running out.

Suddenly, Mark whistled. Out of nowhere came shots that brought Jerome to his knees and his partner face down on the floor. Only one thing could keep a vampire down like that-silver bullets. In a move that was almost synchronized, Mark pulled out a stake and stabbed. Jerome's partner began flaking away into ash.

With silver bullets flying around, I doubted Dwayne would be coming to my rescue anytime soon.

"You…?" Two pools of blood seeped onto the floor from Jerome's knees. They'd shot his kneecaps. Ouch. I didn't need to look at his face to see that he was in considerable pain.

Mark walked up to Jerome and spat in his face. "How about we reverse the deal? Now you and yours pay us dues and we'll leave you alone? With your sheriff out with the fishes, I'm sure he needs some protecting.

Laughter came from every direction in the bar.

I finally understood why even Weres were wary of the bikers. Throughout this whole showdown, the vibe I got from the room was triumph and excitement. I didn't hear a drop of remorse or disgust. The strongest emotion in the room was the biker who wanted to take a leak. Just because Weres are strong and scary didn't mean they could deal with an organized group of ruthless sociopaths.

I stayed plastered to the wall hoping to not draw attention to myself.

Mark raised a handgun to aim at Jerome's heart. "Or, we could just send back a jar of ashes and let your sheriff figure it out for himself?" I had no doubt those bullets were silver as well.

Like a flash, Jerome was next to me and holding me as a human shield.

Fuck.

He gripped me by the neck, but his grip was weak.

"Don't think I won't do it," he said to Mark.

"What are you some kind of retarded vampire or something? Why should we give a shit about a girl?"

I knew instantly why Jerome came after me rather than one of the bikers. His knees were well and truly shot. His tibias dangled by the sinew from his kneecaps and weren't supporting him at all.

Jerome could fly.

He hovered against the wall, making it appear that he could stand. I was, conveniently, the only person near that wall.

The bikers were picking up their shotguns and other weaponry. They were closing in on us.

"I have information he wants. He won't want to kill me just yet," I whispered, trying not to move my lips. "If you take me with you, I'll let you know where the skylight is."

Jerome weakly tightened his grip then loosened it. We had to act fast; he was getting weaker by the second.

"Skylight, in the men's bathroom," I whispered softly. I had seen the mental picture of the men's bathroom from the biker who wanted to pee when someone was getting killed. I hoped the recollection was accurate.

With a grunt to draw his last strength, Jerome was in the toilet and we broke through the skylight. The voices behind us faded, but we were going too fast.

I had half flown/hovered with Eric before and it wasn't a pleasant experience. This one was no better.

"My friends are in the parking lot. If you could just drop me off at the side of the road, I can make my way back to them."

Jerome ignored me. I jabbed him in the ribs, causing us to veer hard to the right, almost flying into a tree.

Okay. Not a good idea to mess with your ride.

"Can't. Stop. Can't take off again."

I looked down to see that Jerome's legs were hanging at a God-awful angle by strips of skin. I took a deep breath and let out a deep, long sigh.