"We're riding in back?" Frankly, the thought of being alone in a confined space with him frightened me, and not for concern of my arteries.
"Yeah, here. Old Ted doesn't want to risk being seen with me. Values his health, he does. Keeps our friendship a secret. Smart bloke."
"Smart," I muttered as I climbed into the trailer's interior. Ted closed the door with a decisive click and sound of a lock turning. "I envy that."
I refused to sit back in the car where my blood stained the seats and a body lay in the trunk. Instead, I was as far away from Bones as the tight interior of the truck's trailer could manage. There were crates toward the front, filled with God knows what, and I huddled into a ball on one of them. Bones perched contentedly on a similar box as if he hadn't a care in the world.
"I know this isn't a concern for you, but is there enough oxygen in here?"
"Plenty of air. Just as long as there isn't any heavy breathing." His brow arched as he spoke, while his eyes told me loud and clear that he hadn't overlooked an instant of our earlier moment.
"Well, then I'm safe. Absolutely safe." Damn him for the knowing twist of the lips he gave me in reply. What would I have done if he'd moved closer before? If he'd separated that last inch between our mouths? Would I have slapped him? Or...
"Shit." Oops, said that out loud.
"Something wrong?"
That half smile still curled his lips, but his expression was serious. My heart started to beat faster again. The air seemed to close in around us, and desperately I searched for something to break the tension.
"So who's this Hennessey you were asking about?"
His expression became guarded. "Someone dangerous."
"Yeah, I gathered that. Sergio seemed pretty scared of him, so I didn't think he was a Boy Scout. I take it he's our next target?"
Bones paused before answering, seeming to choose his words.
"He's someone I've been tracking, yes, but I'll be going after him alone."
My hackles rose at once. "Why? You don't think I can handle it? Or you still don't trust me to keep this secret? I thought we covered this already!"
"I think there are certain things you'd do well to stay out of," he replied, evasive.
I switched tactics. At least this topic cut the strange mood from earlier. "You said something about Sergio being Hennessey's best client. What do you mean by that? What did Hennessey do to whoever hired you? Do you know, or did you just take the contract on him without asking?"
Bones let out a soft noise. "Questions like that are why I won't tell you more about it. Suffice it to say there's a reason why Ohio's been such a hazardous place for young girls lately. It's why I don't want you chasing after vampires without me. Hennessey's more than just a sod who bleeds someone when he can get away with it. Beyond that, don't ask."
"Can you at least tell me how long you've been after him? That can't be top secret."
He caught the snippiness in my tone and frowned. I didn't mind. Better to be arguing with each other than, well, anything else.
"'Round eleven years."
I almost fell off my crate. "Good God! He must have a real fancy price on his head! Come on, what did he do? He pissed off someone rich, obviously."
Bones gave me a look I couldn't decipher. "Not everything is about money."
From his tone, I wasn't getting anything else out of him. Fine. If he wanted to play it that way, fine. I'd just try later.
"How did you become a vampire?" I asked next, surprising even myself with the question.
A brow arched.
"Want an interview with the vampire, luv? It didn't turn out too well for the reporter in the movie."
As I murmured, "I never saw it. My mother thought it was too violent," the humor of it made me laugh. Bones grinned as well, and cast a meaningful look toward the car.
"I can see that. Good thing you didn't watch it, then. Heaven knows what might have happened."
Laughter fading, it occurred to me that I really did want to know, so I looked at him pointedly until he let out an acquiescing noise.
"All right, I'll tell you, but then you'll have to answer one of my questions. Got an hour to burn anyhow."
"Is this quid pro quo, Dr. Lecter?" I scoffed. "Fine, but I hardly see the point. You already know everything about me."
A look of pure heat was shot my way and his voice lowered to a whisper. "Not everything."
Whoa. Back came that awkwardness in a flash. Clearing my suddenly dry throat, I fidgeted until I was scrunched up even smaller.
"When did it happen? When you were changed?" Please just talk. Please stop looking at me that way.
"Let's see, it was 1790 and I was in Australia. I did this bloke a favor and he thought he was returning it by making me a vampire."
"What?" I was shocked. "You're Australian? I thought you were English!"
He smiled, but with little amusement.
"I'm a bit of both, as it were. I was born in England. It's where I spent my youth, but it was in Australia that I was changed. That makes me part of it as well."
Now I was fascinated, my earlier consternation forgotten. "You have to go into more detail than that."
He settled back against the side of the trailer, legs casually splayed in front of him. "I was twenty-four. It happened just a month after my birthday."
"My God, we're almost the same age!" As soon they were out, I realized the absurdity of the words.
He snorted. "Sure. Give or take two hundred and seventeen years."
"Er, you know what I mean. You look older than twenty-four."
"Thanks ever so." He laughed at my obvious chagrin, but put me out of my misery. "Times were different. People aged far more rapidly. You bloody folks don't know how good you have it."
"Tell me more." He hesitated, and I blurted out, "Please."
Bones leaned forward, all serious now. "It's not pretty, Kitten. Not romantic like the movies or books. You remember you told me you slugged those lads when you were young because they called your mum a whore? Well, my mum was a whore. Her name was Penelope and she was fifteen when she had me. It was fortunate that she and the madam of the place were friendly, or I never would have been allowed to live there. Only girl-children were kept at the whorehouse, for obvious reasons. When I was little, I didn't know there was anything unusual with where I lived. All the women doted on me, and I would do house chores and such until I got older. The madam, her name was Lucille, later inquired as to whether or not I wanted to follow in the family business. Several of the male customers who were so inclined had taken notice of me, for I was a pretty lad. But by the time Madam approached me with the offer, I knew enough to know I wouldn't want to perform such activities. Begging was a common occupation in London then. Thieving was as well, so to earn my keep, I began to steal. Then when I was seventeen, my mum died of syphilis. She was thirty-three."