Keeper of the Moon. Harley Jane Kozak

bar for Dennis. “And do me a favor?” he added. “No more pills tonight. Not even vitamins.”

      “Okay, but—”

      “You think no one’s looking?” Declan raised an eyebrow. “Look around you. Mirrors and magic. Everything you do, love, someone can see.”

      Declan watched her walk away, surprised at his own flare of temper, which had made him more sharp-spoken than he’d intended. But her talking openly about Keeper matters in a place like this and on top of that downing a second dose of síúlacht … What bad luck. The síúlacht would mask the effects of the Scarlet Pathogen all over again. That set them back two or three hours, hours that could have been spent tracking a killer by other means. Maddening. What a waste of time.

      But it was more than that. If he were to be honest with himself—and he worked hard to be honest with himself, to not turn into the arrogant bastard she thought he was—he had to admit that the one he was mad at wasn’t Sailor but himself. Because she stirred up something in him—she had just enough Elven in her to be his type, with her overt sensuality, her long golden limbs and red-gold hair—and the last thing he needed now was a romantic entanglement. Sailor’s path had crossed his because of this crisis, and it was the crisis that mattered. Finding the killer. Not her.

      Alessande’s warning came to mind. The Elven passion for portents and premonitions irritated him because he didn’t like being told what not to do, even by supernatural sources. This time the warnings were unnecessary, redundant, telling him what he already knew: Keep this strictly business.

      And it was hardly her fault that she’d messed up his evening’s agenda, because she had no idea she was part of it. Taking síúlacht wasn’t a bad call on her part; it was a perfectly reasonable response to her condition, taking more of what Alessande had given her hours earlier. Not everyone’s an addict, mate, he told himself. And even if she were, it wasn’t his business.

      How had she lasted this long, though? He and Alessande had underestimated her stamina. But she would show up at his club, he had no doubt. She wanted something from him.

      Would she be safe, though, driving the streets of Hollywood after midnight? Safe from what had attacked her this afternoon? Whether her assailant was a vampire or a shifter, neither was likely to enter her car while she was driving. And once she reached the Snake Pit she would be on his turf, and anyone trying to mess with her there did so at their peril. Let them try, he thought, and instinctively flexed his muscles.

      Damn. He was going to have to watch himself. Feeling this protective toward her was a bad sign.

      He signaled Dennis, who came over, wiping a shot glass with a bar towel. “Do me a favor?” Declan asked, pulling out a business card.

      “Sure.”

      Declan nodded toward Sailor, visible in the next room. “Sailor Gryffald. I don’t think she’s well. Call me at this number, would you, if she shows any signs of weakness? Maybe see her to her car?”

      “I’ll do better than that,” Dennis said. “I’ll follow her, see she makes it to the door of the Snake Pit.” He smiled at Declan’s look. “Acoustics, friend. I can hear everything at this bar.”

      Sailor watched Declan leave with mixed feelings. On the one hand, she’d been both unprofessional and immature, and she desperately wished she could rewind the conversation. On the other hand, no matter how gracelessly, she’d achieved her goal: he had agreed to talk to her about the murders, and Declan Wainwright was a major resource. The challenge now would be to extract from him everything he knew, not just the stuff he would tell anyone. And to get him to share his connections, which were vast.

      Okay, the real challenge would be to retain some self-possession in his presence and not act like a kid with a crush.

      Fortunately Sailor loved a challenge.

      The only thing she couldn’t figure out was why Declan Wainwright cared that she’d ingested some homeopathic twigs and leaves.

      And how she was going to survive hanging in the city’s hottest after-hours club dressed in her waitress uniform.