Page 25 of Blood Owed (Blood Mafia 1)
“Are all vampires this stupid or is it specifically Blood Mafia vampires that are daft?”
Grayson sucks in a breath, glancing toward the corner of the room. I follow his gaze and squint at the tiny black speck.
No, not a black speck.
A camera.
“You should choose your words carefully.”
This makes me chuckle. “Or what, you’ll kill me?”
Grayson doesn’t answer. His focus is on the camera, and I’m starting to worry I’ve crossed a line with my uncontrollable mouth. To be fair, he and Colt are pretty arrogant. Mr. Mafia Boss has to realize this.
I tap a finger against my hip, making a clicking noise with my mouth. “What’s next on the agenda?”
Grayson shakes off his moment of seriousness and gives me what would be a panty-melting smile. Too bad the bastard kidnapped me.
There will be no sexy vampire D in this V.
“Next you come with me to answer some questions.”
I close my eyes, drop my head back, and groan. “I don’t have anything useful for you people. Why are you prolonging this? Kill me now and get it over with.”
“It’s not so simple, tiger. You’ve got the attention of some very important people.”
“Lucky me,” I mutter.
He holds out the warm clothes again. “Please take them.” This time it sounds as though he’s truly begging me.
“I’m fine.”
Grayson lets out a resigned sigh and nods. He sets the clothes on the edge of the dark red comforter. “He’s not going to like this.”
“Frankly, my dear, I don’t give a damn.”
He twists his mouth to the side and shakes his head. “Do me a favor and don’t quoteGone with the Windwhile you’re being interrogated.”
Challenge accepted.
Colt’s waitingin another room with one of those one-way windows. I scowl at the pane of glass, hoping whoever is on the other side can feel my anger. Grayson sits next to Colt, leaving the chair on the opposite side of the white table—the one facing toward the mirror—to me.
“What took you so long?” Colt asks Grayson.
Grayson tilts his head. “She was showering.”
Colt looks at me for the first time since I’ve entered the room, narrowing his eyes on my damp clothing. “She took a shower in her clothes?”
“He looks as if he knows what I look like without my shimmy!”
“Demi, stop,” Grayson whispers.
“Fiddle-dee-dee.”
Colt glances at whoever is watching.
The intercom crackles, and I grin like a fool, loving that I’ve somehow pressed buttons even though I don’t entirely understand how.
“Someone shut her up before I come in there and do it permanently.”
