“No,” Kist said from his corner, and they hesitated. “I said no!” he shouted as he got to his feet and started over, his fast pace jerking into a slower one to hide a new limp.

Their faces twisting to an ugly promise, they stopped, making a ring about me a good eight feet back. Eight feet, I thought, feeling ill as I remembered my and Ivy’s workouts. That was a living vamp’s reach.

Crotch-boy got to his feet, his shoulders hunched and his face pained. Kist pushed through the circle to stand opposite him, hands on his hips and feet spread wide. His dark silk shirt and dress pants gave him more sophistication than his usual leather. A bruise spread upward across his lightly stubbled cheek to just miss his eye. By the way he held himself, I guessed his ribs were hurting, but I thought the real damage was to his pride. He had lost his scion status to Ivy.

“He said bring her down, not rough her up,” Kist said, his lips going bloodless as my gaze lingered on the fingernail gouge behind his bangs.

Though Samuel was bigger, Kist’s demand for obedience was unmistakable. A hard, bad temper had replaced his usual mien of casual flirtation, giving him a rough edge that I’d always found attractive in men. Like every manager, Kist had problems with his employees, and somehow the fact that he had to deal with crap just like everyone else made him more appealing. My gaze roved over him, my thoughts following my eyes. Damn vamp pheromones.

Still panting, the larger vamp darted his eyes to me and back to Kist. “She needs to be searched.” He licked his lips, looking at me to make my pulse race. “I’ll do it.”

I stiffened, my thoughts going to my splat gun. There were too many of them.

“I’m doing it,” Kist said, his blue eyes starting to vanish behind a swelling circle of black.

Swell.

Samuel sullenly backed off, and Kist held out his hand for my bag. I hesitated, then seeing him arch his eyebrow as if to say, “Just give me a reason,” I extended it. He took it, roughly setting it on a nearby table. “Give me what you have on you,” he said softly.

Eyes on his, I slowly reached behind me and handed him my splat gun. There wasn’t a sound from the surrounding vampires. Perhaps some respect for my little red paint-ball gun? They didn’t know what it was loaded with. I had known the moment I tucked it behind my waistband I’d never get to use it, and I frowned at lost chances that never really existed.

“The cross?” he asked, and I worked the clasp of my charm bracelet, dropping it into his waiting hand. Saying nothing, he set it and my gun on the table behind him. Stepping forward, he put his arms out wide. I obediently mimicked him, and he came close to pat me down.