Sucker for Love by Kimberly Raye Page A

out.
    “On paper it keeps up the charade well enough. I don’t put in too many personal appearances. Knock, knock,” he said.
    “Excuse me?”
    “Not Excuse me. You’re supposed to say Who’s there? It’s a bloody joke.” His eyes twinkled and I fully expected him to belt out a Ho, ho, ho. “Don’t you like jokes?”
    “Yes, but—”
    “Then say ‘Who’s there?’ Knock, knock.”
    I rubbed at my shin. “Okay, I’ll bite. Who’s there?”
    “Dot.”
    “Dot who?”
    “Dot’s for me to know and you to find out.” He started to laugh. His stomach heaved and shook with the effort. “Wait, wait,” he finally managed after several loud, boisterous seconds. “I’ve got an even better one. Knock, knock.”
    “Who’s there?”
    “Ears.”
    “Ears who?”
    “Ears some more knock-knock jokes for you.” He roared and I did my best not to roll my eyes. “Isn’t that the bloodiest funny thing you’ve ever heard?”
    “A riot.” I pulled my chair upright and tried not to look freaked. “So what are you doing here?”
    “You called me.”
    “On the phone,” I pointed out.
    He shrugged. “I prefer taking my calls in person.” The humor fled his expression and his brown eyes hardened. He went from easygoing to formidable in the blink of an eye. I had the sudden feeling that I’d just been hauled into the headmaster’s office.
    “You have information for me. Is that correct?”
    “Yes.” Sort of. I launched into the story I’d told Ash, beginning with the matchmaking party and ending with the bloodstained couch.
    A puff of smoke and a file folder appeared in his hand. “I know all of that already. It’s right here.”
    “Yeah, well, the more an eyewitness tells a story, the more of a chance she has of recalling something she might have missed in the first place.” Or so Ty had once told me.
    He leafed through the folder. “Anything new?”
    “Maybe next time.”
    He frowned, his expression darkening, and I glimpsed the legend himself. Awesome. Larger than life. I braced myself, fully expecting him to shout Abracadabra and turn me into a toad or a raccoon or something such.
    He stared at me a long moment, but nothing happened. Finally, he shook his head.
    “What?”
    “You’re a vampire.”
    “And?”
    “A born vampire.”
    “And?”
    “And I’ve never met such an uneasy born vampire. Most of them are very cheeky and full of themselves. And they’re certainly not afraid of me.”
    “Should they be?”
    “Perhaps.” He grinned. “I do have a vast and colorful history involving possums.” When I arched an eyebrow, he added, “Toads are slimy and I’m allergic to raccoons. Vampires make good possums because they most resemble bats.” When I didn’t look convinced, he added, “They both hang upside down.”
    I shrugged. Hey, it made sense.
    I quickly noted that I was still upright. Designer shoes. Two legs. Great outfit. My luck was obviously changing, so I decided to go for broke. “What about Mordred? Do you have any idea where he might be?” When he didn’t answer, I added, “I Googled him and found a list of past addresses. You might want to check them out—”
    “We already have, and we already know where he’s taking her. He arrived in Austin last night and rented a car.”
    I did a quick mental of the list. “That means he’s headed for Lonely Fork.” It was such a small town, it hadn’t even had a mention on Texas Online. “He is, right?” He nodded and relief bubbled through me.
    “Mordred lived there about fifty years ago,” Merle went on. “Rumor had it that he was thisclose to getting married, but then he abandoned the chit at the altar and disappeared. The fiancée died several years ago from Alzheimer’s. He obviously didn’t share his beauty secrets with her.”
    “Your men will be there waiting for him? For an ambush? A takedown? What ever you guys do, right?”
    “Waiting for him, yes. A takedown? I think not.”
    “Why not?”
    “The