Since she was supposed to be into the scary shit instead of disgusted, Miranda smiled at the men and strolled forward. She eased onto the bar stool and let her skirt drift up an inch or two.

They were undead, but they were still men.

The hunger that lit their faces told her they were men who could still be stirred by a woman.

“I was actually supposed to meet a friend here tonight,” she murmured, tapping her index finger to her lips. Slowly, she swung around on the bar stool until she faced the crowd. Her gaze shifted around the room, as if she were searching for someone—

And found Cain’s bright stare locked on her.

She swallowed and kept her expression light and flirtatious.

He was watching out for her, guarding her back.

And looking like he’d seriously enjoy ripping the vampires apart.

“Another friend like the bastard shifter?” asked the blond on the right with a trace of disgust.

“Oh, no.” She turned her gaze to him but then glanced quickly away. Cain had warned her to be careful with the vampires. Apparently, the older ones could use some kind of hypnosis thing called Thrall to control humans and some of the Other. “Paul is a vampire.” Tossing them what she hoped was a secretive smile, she admitted, “Paul Roberts is the one who turned me on to vampires.”

“Then you must have a serious taste for pain, my dear.” The deep voice, accented with an Irish brogue, came from a few feet away. Miranda jerked her gaze over to the stranger. A tall, muscled guy with brown hair and sky-blue eyes stared back at her, arms crossed over his chest. “Paul Roberts is a twisted prick who gets off from torturin’ women. Human women.” A pause. “Now is that really your idea of a good time, Miranda Shaw?”

Oh, hell, he knew her name.

His stare shifted to the vampires. “Leave.”

Two against one, like that was going to work—

They left. Irish smiled at her then, flashing those vamp teeth. He took the stool next to her and brought his legs close to hers, so close she could feel the muscled threat of his body. “The performance was very good, you know. Fooled most of the idiots here.”

As fear began to trickle up her throat, Miranda studied the vampire before her. Handsome. Classically so, really, but with eyes that seemed to be ancient.

And maybe he was.

“Ah, here comes our brave bodyguard, rushing to the rescue.”

She didn’t look, but she knew Cain was on his way.

The vampire smiled at her. “Why are you really here, human? Not for the fucking. And I don’t think you like the idea of yourself as food.”

No, she didn’t. Not one damn bit. She dropped her act and got down to business. “Paul Roberts attacked me a little over a week ago.” The guy in front of her might notparticularly give a damn about her attack. Hell, he probably couldn’t care less. Were all vampires sadistic killers?

“Um . . .” He turned slightly on the stool. Gazed at two women who were dancing nearby.

No, he didn’t look overly concerned.

“He’s killed four other women.” Christie’s still face flashed through her mind. “I want to stop him.”

The vampire turned his attention back to her. “Do you now? Easier said than done, I’d wager.” He reached out and touched her cheek. “Even for a tempting one like you.”

“Get your hands off her, Sullivan.” Cain stood beside them, body tense.

“Ah, relax, shifter. I’m not going to hurt your pretty.” Taking his time, he withdrew his hand.

“What the hell are you doing here, Sullivan? I thought you went back across the damn ocean—”

“I did.” A little shrug. “Got bored.” A brow lifted. “And I thought you had given up the crime fighting? What happened? Did you decide life without the kill just wasn’t worth living?”

Okay. She didn’t like the sound of that. Miranda stood, placing her body between the two men. “He decided to save my life.”

“Um. A life certainly worth saving.”

Yeah, she liked to think so. “We’re trying to stop Paul Roberts. Do you know anything that can help us or not?”

“Not,” Cain snapped. “The vamps stick together, he’s not—”

“What have I ever done,” the one called Sullivan asked, cutting through Cain’s words, “that makes you think I condone the killin’ of innocent women? Vampire, I may be.” A delicate pause. “But unlike other of my brethren, and yours, I might add, I don’t get my jollies from tormentin’ the helpless.”

Cain just stared at him.

Sullivan shook his dark head. “And I don’t drain my prey. A sip here or there.” He shrugged. “But no murders. My conscience is clean on that.”

“So you’ll help us?” Miranda pressed. She didn’t know if she believed the guy. Cain seemed damn antagonistic toward him, so no telling what kind of history was between the two men. Now that Cain had crossed back to her side, they were getting either suspicious or downright hateful looks from the other vampires in the room, and some of the humans who were picking up on the tension were starting to throw them dirty stares, too.

They’d need to get the hell out of there, soon.

But first . . .

“You won’t find Roberts in any of the rooms in Miami, or any other city.” The vampire seemed absolutely certain of that.

“Why not?” Miranda asked.