Page 3 of Vanessa’s Bravery

His last insinuation was an educated guess. Her curse earlier was most likely directed at an unruly patient.

“You have no idea!” she agreed with a huff, but her voice began to change. “Sometimes, I really don’t know why I’m still working here.”

“I’m sure the place would fall apart without you,” Cole said as sweetly as he could without sounding sarcastic. “But there are people who need you.”

“You’re right. I wish all patients were so considerate.”

He smiled to himself. She was on his side. Now he had a chance to get to see the doctor.

“You said that tonight he’s all booked. Do you have any openings in the next few days at all? I don’t care what time, if only you could squeeze me in.”

He heard the faint tapping of fingers on a computer keyboard. “Oh, actually, looks like we had a cancellation. We have availability tomorrow at 8:15pm.”

Did this doctor see all his patients in the middle of the night? Maybe this guy was a charlatan who wanted to fly under the radar. He probably didn’t even have a medical license. But who was he to judge? He had to find out why his father had Dr. Drake’s number in his journal. Maybe the guy knew something that none of the other medical professionals Cole had consulted knew. It was worth a try. All he had to lose was a few hours of sleep.

“Eight fifteen tomorrow night? That’s perfect. I don’t think I have your address.”

“I’ll text it to you. Is this a good number for you?”

“Yes, this is my cell. Perfect.”

“Enjoy your night, Mr. Whitlock. We’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Thank you, uhm, Miss…?”

“Please call me Marilyn,” she said, her voice suddenly sounding like a kitten.

“Thank you, Marilyn. Have a good night.”

He disconnected the call, and about thirty seconds later, he received a text with the doctor’s office address. He tapped on it to see where in San Francisco it was located.

“Nob Hill.” It wasn’t far from his condo.

Cole let out a breath of relief. One hurdle was past him. What he needed now was something to relax him, or he’d explode with nervous energy. He wouldn’t be able to sleep right now. He wanted company, female company.

He scrolled through his address book. The high-class establishment he’d frequented in Chicago had recommended a similar place in San Francisco. A place where as long as a man paid the right price, he wouldn’t be turned away. And money was no object for him. His misgivings about having to pay for physical pleasures had long ago vanished. It was the best approach to deal with his need for sex, and it guaranteed him relief, which visiting a nightclub to pick up a woman didn’t.

Cole stopped scrolling. He read the note he’d made. Vera’s, the sign says Executive Services. The address was noted below it. He tapped on it. It was right at the border of Nob Hill and Chinatown. He put his cell phone in his pocket and walked into the bedroom, where he glanced into the full-length mirror. He wore casual but expensive pants, and a shirt that hugged his broad chest. He was neither overdressed nor underdressed for a visit to a brothel. All he needed was his wallet and his jacket. He slipped into his jacket, placed his wallet in the inside pocket and marched to the door. From a hook near it, he snatched his keys, and left his condo.

When he reached the underground garage of the small condo building, he walked past his Land Rover and straight to his Aston Martin and clicked the remote. He didn’t drive it very often, since it was really meant for a smaller man, not one who was 6’3” and looked more like a bodybuilder than a computer wiz. Working out and bulking up had been a survival mechanism for so long that it was second nature by now. He wasn’t the little kid anymore that had been every schoolyard bully’s prime target. He’d learned to defend himself, and he didn’t take shit from anyone anymore. Nobody could hurt him anymore, because he didn’t let them get close enough to inflict pain.

But tonight wasn’t about pain. It was about pleasure, and he was determined to take what he needed so desperately. It had been a while since he’d touched a woman, and ever since he’d arrived in San Francisco, he’d felt his need for sex rise faster and higher than anywhere else. And tonight, it wasn’t just the need to decompress before his appointment with Dr. Drake that sent him to a brothel, but a little voice inside him that kept nudging him to seek his pleasure in the arms of a woman and forget everything else for a couple of hours.

And that was exactly what he would do tonight.

3

“Bring her in here,” Vera ordered, ushering Vanessa to a room at the end of the corridor, past the opulent staircase that led to the upper floors of the Queen Anne mansion that had once belonged to a railroad baron.

Vera held the door open, and Vanessa carried the unconscious Ginger into the room and placed her on the bed. “She lost consciousness a couple of minutes ago.”

Vanessa continued pressing her hand over the gash on her neck to stop the blood loss. Ginger looked white as a sheet already, and she hoped that she wasn’t too late.

“What happened?” Vera asked while she grabbed a towel from the ensuite bathroom, folded it, and pressed it over Vanessa’s hand. “I’ll put pressure on it.”

Vanessa removed her hand, extended her fangs and bit into her wrist. With her other hand she pried Ginger’s mouth open and let the blood from her wrist drip into the injured woman’s mouth.

“She was attacked by a vampire.”