Anita Blake, Vampire Hunter Colletion_ Books 11-15 - Laurell K. Hamilton [971]
I checked to make sure the gun was still loaded, because any time a gun has been out of your sight, you damn well better check. Never trust anyone else that a gun is either loaded or unloaded; check it yourself. Gun safety 101.
Towel tucked tight under my arms, and gun in hand, I opened the door. I thought for a moment the bedroom was empty, but then Clay and Graham stood up near the fireplace. They’d been sitting in the room’s only chairs.
“Clay, shouldn’t you be in bed somewhere? You just got off work at Guilty Pleasures.” I looked at the bed and found it stripped down to the slightly singed mattress. My gun had been there somewhere.
As if he read my mind, Clay said, “Your gun is in the bedside table.”
I didn’t check to make sure he was telling the truth. One, I trusted Clay; two, I had a gun in one hand and the other hand helped hold the towel in place. I was armed and out of hands. “Thanks, but why aren’t you in bed?”
“After they found the bugs in all the businesses, Jean-Claude asked us to do double shifts.” He ran his hand through his short blond curls. Early twenties looked better on no sleep, but he still looked tired.
“Don’t I even get a hello?” Graham asked. I looked at him and couldn’t fight a frown. He was about the same size as Clay: six feet tall, but his shoulders were much broader. Graham was muscled in a way that only serious weight lifting would give you. His black hair was so long on top that his dark eyes peered out from the hair. The bottom of his hair was freshly shaved, very short, so that it looked like two different haircuts put together. He wasn’t wearing the black T-shirt that was standard bodyguard wear. He was wearing red. The red shirt was a new addition to the bodyguard uniform. Most of them were still in black, some with the appropriate club name and “Security” written on them, or just plain black. Red meant the guard was okay with being emergency food for the ardeur. It had been Remus’s idea originally. He’d come up with it after I’d nearly killed Damian, Nathaniel, and myself from not feeding the ardeur enough. I thought the red shirt idea was a joke until the first guard showed up wearing one.
Strangely, since the red shirt policy went into effect, I’d gained a much better control over the ardeur. Let’s hear it for fear, embarrassment, and sheer stubbornness. Graham had been trying to get into my pants for months, so no big surprise that he volunteered. What creeped me out was some of the other guards who’d done it. Men I hadn’t known thought of me in a sexual way. I mean, it’s one thing to suspect a man lusts after you, but absolute confirmation, well, that made me uncomfortable.
“Hey, Graham, nice shirt,” I said, and I was happy that it sounded hostile.
“Why are you mad at me? It’s not my rule. Be mad at Remus, or Claudia, or Jean-Claude. It’s their rule that you are not to be alone in a room unless accompanied by a man willing to feed the ardeur.”
“Since when?” I asked.
“Since this mysterious bad guy came to town. No one’s giving details, but apparently the people who give us orders are worried that the bad guys will use magic to make the ardeur go out of control. So you have to have food at all times.” He didn’t sound happy about it. Maybe my being pissy was finally rubbing off on Graham. Good.
“We’re short of red shirts today, Anita,” Clay said.
“Why?”
“Because the guard is doubled around all of Jean-Claude’s businesses. He’s having to renegotiate with Rafael and Narcissus for more people.”
“I guess we pay more money, we get more men,” I said.
The two men exchanged a look. “Maybe,” Clay said.
I was getting cold standing there in nothing but a towel, so I went to the armoire for clothes. “What else could they be negotiating for except money?