She met his eyes. “I could go instead.”
“We both know that in this situation, my abilities trump yours.”
“I know. And it pisses me off. Big time.”
He laughed. “Not used to being the kid left behind, twiddling your thumbs.”
“You got that right.”
“I don’t think we should leave her alone tonight. And you don’t either.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Reading my mind, partner?”
“Nah. Just starting to understand you. I’ll report in.”
Chapter Forty-two
Wednesday, July 17
11:15 P.M.
Zach made a list of the bars on Mick’s map. He began on the Canal Street end of Bourbon, working his way toward the Esplanade Avenue end, planning to hook around to the Jax Brewery complex, ending his club crawl there.
Wednesday nights in the middle of July, he discovered, weren’t happening. Even the decibel of energy-chatter was low, like the hum of a fluorescent light.
He went into one club after another, in and out, crisscrossing the street as he imagined Miller and Putnam had. At each, he ordered a cocktail he had no intention of drinking, chatted with the bartenders, danced when the right opportunity presented itself, and generally worked his way around the room in search of the Dark Bearer’s energy.
Mr. Big-and-Badass was nowhere to be found.
Kudzu’s was the last on Zach’s list. Located on the second floor of the Jax Brewery complex, it had the biggest crowd he’d seen so far.
He entered the club and the hum in his head ceased. Just stopped dead, like a faucet had been turned off. Nada. Nothing.
Weird. Very.
Zach curled his way through the partiers, heading toward the bar and the open stool at the far end. He reached it and sat. Three bartenders, he noted. Two males, one female.
He caught the eye of one of the guys, signaled him. He noticed a slight tingling in the tips of his fingers and flexed them.
The bartender came over, set a coaster in front of him. “Hey, man. What can I get you?”
Twenty-something. Handsome. Dark hair and eyes. Easy smile, bright white. Fit the profile to a T.
“Club soda with lime.”
The smile widened. “You a cop, brother?”
“Why would you think that?”
“Club soda.”
He laughed. “Gotcha. You probably don’t serve much of that in here.”
“Especially from dudes out alone on a weeknight.”
Who, Zach wondered, was profiling who? “It’s my fifth stop, man. I’ve got to work tomorrow.”
The bartender fixed the drink, set it in front of him. Leaned against the bar. “What kind of work you in?”
“Sales.” Zach took the glass, curved his fingers around it. Cold, damp, and energy free. He took a sip. “Software.”
“Haven’t seen you in here before.”
“First time. I’m new to town.”
“Where you from?”
“California.” He took another sip. “This place has it going on. Everywhere else I stopped was dead.”
“We’re the place to be, no doubt about it.”
He started off; Zach stopped him. “How’s Friday night? Worth my while?”
“Depends on what you’re looking for. Trends young.”
“Like the just turning twenty-one crowd?”
Something in the bartender’s eyes changed, as if they were liquid pools of black. They seemed to dilate, become darker. Zach blinked. Gave his head a shake.
“You okay?”
An ordinary brown gaze. Nothing reflecting in them but curiosity. “Went a little fuzzy-headed for a moment.”
“Good thing you switched to soda water.” He smiled. “In this heat, you’ve got to watch out for dehydration. It’ll level you, partner.”
Partner. Mick. Why had he called him that?
He left to wait on another customer. Zach studied him discreetly. He noticed something about the man he hadn’t before. Every couple of minutes, he’d twitch. A very subtle jerk of his head or shoulder. Almost as if uncomfortable in his own skin.
Something about the guy’s vibes wasn’t quite right.
Zach reached for his drink. His hand shook slightly; he frowned and drew it back. What was up with that? Maybe he was dehydrated, he thought. When was the last time he’d had a glass of water?
A fine sheen of sweat formed on his upper lip. He wiped it away, catching the female bartender studying him. He reached for his glass again. It was full.
He didn’t remember ordering a refill. Or had he? Why couldn’t he remember?
“Last call. Refill?”
The female. Mid-twenties, steady gaze. Pretty. “Already?”
“I’ve been here since nine, darlin’. That’s not an already for me, it’s a finally.”
She had a southern twang. He thought of Micki. He should check in with her. He glanced at his watch. Three-forty-five A.M.
He blinked. That couldn’t be right. He’d been here about twenty minutes; he’d walked into the club at midnight.
“What time is it?” he asked.
“Quarter to four.”
“I guess time flies when you’re having fun.”
His words slurred slightly. She didn’t seem to notice. “What’s your name?”