The next night just after sunset, as he was unlocking Diablo's back door to start opening for business, Al Ailling saw a strange car pulling up next to him. He peered in to see the big sloppy vampire Lander at the wheel.

Lander put down the window. "Get in, Al," he said in a grumpy tone.

"I'm opening up, Mr. Lander," Ailling replied.

"Sandy Seacrest asked me to fetch you. This won't take a minute."

Ailling looked around, hesitating. "Mz. Seacrest?" he asked, like he was looking for the small, stern vampire.

"She's up the road at the King's new hotel," Lander explained, then added with impatience, "C'mon."

Ailling didn't trust vampires as far as he could throw them—and at his age, that wasn't far at all. He glanced around hastily; no one in sight. He stepped slowly around the car and got in. As Lander pulled away fast, Ailling hoped he didn't notice the keys he'd left in the door of the bar.

Ailling said, "Mz. Seacrest has never met me anywhere but at Diablo's…"

Lander laughed gruffly and slapped Ailling on the shoulder. "Well, now, you might just be meeting the King of Nevada."

Ailling knew immediately that something was wrong; Sandy had never indicated that the vamp King met with humans—Ailling had asked her about it, wanting to broker the deal on his bar himself. He saw that Lander was driving fast—in the wrong direction.

Keeping his voice even, Ailling said, "You've made a wrong turn, Mr. Lander; this isn't the way to that hotel."

Lander cursed and spun the car off the road, into the driveway of a trailer park. He ground the car to a stop behind a small stand of scrub. Before the car had even settled, Ailling threw open the door. He was too old to move quickly and the vampire grabbed his arm—Ailling tried to slip out of his jacket, but Lander's grip was like a hungry grizzly's on a salmon.

"Whoa, now!" Lander blustered.

"We're not going to see the King! Let me go!" Ailling opened his mouth wide to yell, but Lander whomped him in the neck and he fell from the car door, gagging.

With head-spinning speed, Lander was beside him, grabbing Ailling around the neck and dragging him into the scrub. Ailling struggled to shed Lander's hands, but he had no breath.

Lander dropped him to the ground like a bag of garbage. Ailling struggled to sit. "What do you want?" he croaked through his damaged throat.

Lander laughed; Ailling cut his eyes around to see if there was anyone who might hear. Lander was on his knee, thrusting his big face in Ailling's. "I want that thumb drive." He wiggled his hand in one of Ailling's pockets, and Ailling grabbed his wrist, wrenching with all his strength. His efforts just made Lander laugh again. Ailling silently prayed someone would hear the raucous sound.

"What do you need it for?" Ailling tried to buy some time; someone would see them there—the scrub afforded little cover.

Enjoying his moment of power, Lander puffed up, just as Ailling thought he might—he glanced around, gathering his breath to holler at the first sign of anyone. Lander was strutting now, "That pompous ass Eric Northman sent that frigid bitch a fax, but I intercepted it. The bar is doing better than the King thought, but if he finds that out, he won't give it to me." Lander hauled Ailling to his feet, yelling in his face, "I NEED THAT THUMB DRIVE! NOW!"

"I don't have it. It's…" Ailling tried to think. "It's in my office." If he could get Lander to take him back to the bar, someone else would be there, someone would have seen his keys in the lock—Rio! No, he couldn't endanger the girl! He amended, "Or in my car, yes! Parked at Diablo's."

"Okay," Lander said, shoving Ailling toward the car. "Let's go."

Ailling stumbled and then righted himself. He could see some lights down the road where he thought the trailers might be. He took off at a lumber, making it a few steps before Lander hit him.

The force of Lander's swing knocked Ailling to the ground. Before he could roll over to face his attacker, Lander was on his back. Ailling felt his jacket and shirt tear across his shoulders at the same time that Lander's fangs drove into his neck. Ailling howled his pain and fear. He struggled with all his might, but Lander's grip was like a polar bear. Ailling felt the suction on his neck like the world's largest shop vac, and was vaguely aware that Lander was humping against him as he drank.

As Ailling's vision dimmed, he thought he saw a coyote in the distance watching the proceedings with interest.

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Rio got to Diablo's early. She wanted the chance to speak to Al alone. Eric's spurning her had saddened her. And his revelation about the bar's business had frustrated her; she knew from the moment she laid eyes on Eric Northman that time would compress to nothing, and she was angry at herself for trying to grab what little joy she could, now, before…

Rio's thoughts were abruptly interrupted at the sight of a bunch of keys in the lock of the back door. In the shadow cast by the door's recess, she couldn't see whose they were until she took them out. She had seen that worn red karabiner latched on Al's belt loop every night.

Rio looked around. Al's car sat off to the side, as usual. She listened; no human sounds in or around the bar. She reinserted the key and went in. The bar was dark, but she could see no one was there. She stood in the darkness, breathing slowly and fingering Al's keys. Then she stepped swiftly into the office.

Rio sat in Al's chair, waking up his computer. It didn't take long for her to find what she needed. She punched the numbers into the phone.

"Yes, Al?" said Eric's voice when he picked up. Of course he would recognize the bar's number.

"I wish it was Al," Rio said. "He's missing."

There was a second of silence, then Eric said, "What does that mean, exactly?"

Rio knew there would be no sentiment, no "why are you calling me?" from Mr. Eric Northman. But at the moment, she was glad for his briskness.

"I was supposed to meet him before the bar opened to talk about… you, actually." She paused, but Eric did not speak, so she pushed on, "His car is here and his keys were in the back door. The bar is dark."

"How did you get my number?"

"I found it on Al's computer."

If she expected him to say she was clever, she was disappointed. She could hear his aloofness: "I will come as soon as I am able. Call me if Al shows up." He clicked off.

Rio stared at the phone like it was Eric. She was irritated. He was pretending he did not ache for her as she did for him, and she intended to fuck his reticence right off his face. She got up when she heard staff come in through the back, to see if she could help get the bar ready for the night.

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When he walked in Diablo's right after midnight, Eric found Rio sitting up on the bar. Her braid reminded him of bell pulls in Victorian houses, sleek and shining where it hung down her back, almost brushing the bar top. Her long legs dangled from under a skirt made of clingy, silky material, and the heels of her cowboy boots drummed on the bar front. Her eyes instantly connected with his, glowing like a feral animal's in the bar's half light. He contemplated walking straight into the office without acknowledging her—just so he could compose himself—but that proved impossible as soon as she lassoed him with her look.

As he approached her, she moved her knees apart and, Hlin help him, he walked right up to the bar and stood between her legs. Her face was just above him, and she bent down to capture his mouth in hers. She probed with her tongue to see if his fangs had run out for her, and smiled against his lips when she found they had. She pulled back just enough to look him in the eye. "Hey Northman," she said.

Eric found his hands on her long, smooth calves, naked and warm above the tattered tops of her boots. A small part of his mind wondered if he was tied with strings to an unknown puppet master as his hands moved unbidden to grab her behind her knees, and her legs lifted to wrap around his butt, hooking her ankles together to draw him tight against the bar. His erection pressed hard against the wood, and he contemplated Sandy's reaction to his taking Rio right in the middle of the populated room. He suspected she would frown on it.

"Rio, we have to ta… " Eric was interrupted by her luscious mouth grabbing his again, and she murmured against his lips, "Take me outside."

Something in her tone meant there was no arguing with her. He grasped her waist in his large hands, almost encircling her slenderness, and lifted her off the bar. All eyes were on them as they walked out the front door to the parking lot. Once there, he looked at her quizzically, and she nodded in the direction of the dark far end of the pavement. Eric followed her gesture to see her big old truck parked in the darkness.

As they walked to the truck, arms around each other, Rio began exploring his ear, her breath tickling, her tongue probing. A gasp escaped Eric's lips despite himself, and he reached around her to open the truck's door. She perched her fabulous rump on the edge of the bench seat, and rolled away from him, laying back. She linked her legs around his hips, and grabbed the seat release and lifted it; the seat slid all the way to the back of the cab. As his exploring fingers moved under her skirt, Eric couldn't believe she was already wet for him. He unzipped his jeans, setting himself free. He lifted her legs up to rest on his chest, one boot on either side of his face. Placing his hands around her hips, he lifted her up and onto his hardness, pushing in as far as he could go. Her heat and her tightness always astonished him—his urgency belied how very much he had missed her. As he began to move, Rio arched her hips against the seat to take him as deep as possible on every inward stroke. Her head thrashed from side to side, her mouth open and sighing, "Northman, Oh. Northnorthnorthman. Fuck me, Errrrrric!" If he'd had the ability to think at that moment, he might have wondered why she only called him by his first name when she was coming, but he was too engaged in honoring her request to think. He ground into her and her feet linked behind his head and pulled him forward onto her, using the momentum of his inward slam to slide them across the seat.

Rio hit the passenger side door lever, popping the door open so Eric's head wasn't banging against it, as his strokes took over any sense either of them had. Her boots were drumming against the roof of the truck, his feet were dangling out the door on one side, his head out the door on the other, and the noises they were making were like two caterwauling beasts. The sounds of their climaxing could have awakened the dead, but no one approached or even seemed to notice.

Shaking with the speed of his release. Eric righted himself, studying Rio's face hungrily as he zipped up his jeans. He'd been stupid to think he could shake her, and he could see she knew that; she had a slight, knowing smile on her gorgeous lips. He bent to kiss that smile right off, murmuring into her mouth, "Why were we fucking?"

Rio pulled back just enough to meet his eyes. She raised her eyebrows, grabbing his shoulders to pull him back, but he resisted. "You didn't like it," she pouted.

"Oh yes," Eric rumbled a bit, his eyes filling with passion. "I enjoyed it immensely. But I thought you called me because you were concerned about Al."

She cocked her head and said, "You caught me: I'm so worried, I'm just using you for sex to feel better. Can't you tell?"

"It could not have been because you… missed me," Eric said with annoying confidence. "However, if it makes you feel better"—he caressed her leg above her cowboy boot, tickling behind her knee—"perhaps I should take you home and make you feel even…"

Rio touched her fingers to his lips. "I am worried," she said. "He hasn't shown up and I've called him—no answer. Could he be with Sandy?"

"No. I was with her before coming here; she needed to know Al is missing. And I was also concerned—concerned that she might have shown my report to the King—but she had never seen it."

Rio looked puzzled, not following him. Eric explained, "When I faxed her the figures about Diablo's profits on the nights you play, I thought it was important enough to call Sandy and tell her to review it right away. Lander answered the phone and said he would give her my message."

Rio's brow creased and she frowned. "And where is he?"

Eric could not escape the accusation in her eyes. "I don't know. I have been looking for him."

Rio put her hand on his chest. "Maybe we need to fuck so you'll feel better," she tried to tease. Then she asked in a more serious tone, "You said the King might… try to hurt Al?"

"He still needs Al to sign all the paperwork on the bar; and I don't think Lander would have bypassed Sandy and given my report straight to Filipe."

Rio felt more uneasy than she let on, but Eric seemed to be picking up her emotions. "I will take you home," he motioned her to scoot over. "I need to know you are safe while I look for Lander."

Even as she handed him her keys, Rio said, "How will you get back to your car?"

"I'll fly," Eric said with a shrug. Rio sputtered and Eric grinned; he allowed himself a brief moment of gloating at paying her back for all the times she'd shocked the hell out of him.

"You can do that?"

He shrugged again.

With a shyness he never would have associated with her, Rio said, "Show me sometime?" He smiled at her, and drove her truck out of the parking lot toward her house.