FANGS FOR THE MEMORIES
The Young Brothers Series, Book 1
Kathy Love
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Time for my long list of thank yous ...
I want to first t hank my editor, Kate Duffy, who has once again taken a big chance on me. Thank you so much, Kate! Thank you to the Tarts. I'll do better next time. Really.
Thank you, Mom and Dad. You help me more than you will ever know.
Thank you, Bill and Mary Ellen.
Thank you, Teresa, Gary and Megan.
Special thanks to Lisa, Julie and Treena - for listening, plotting, sympathizing, and telling me to get this darn thing done.
And another special thanks to Cindy, Toni, Beth, Cat and Julie for lots of encouraging e-mails and chats.
And all my love to Emily and Todd. Especially to Em, you are a very patient two-year-old. Mommy loves you.
CHAPTER 1
"Hey, baby, you looking for a little holiday cheer?"
Rhys paused on the sidewalk in front of a rundown bar and glanced over at two women leaning against the side of the building. They both smoked cigarettes, the smoke escaping their red lips, mingling with the steam of their breath in the icy night air. Their shabby winter coats were opened wide to reveal their thin bodies clad in skimpy, clinging dresses. One shivered, but still managed to shoot him a desperately inviting look.
And he thought he was having a shitty Christmas Eve.
"I'm looking for a drink," he told them, gesturing to the bar's door with a slight jerk of his head.
"Oh, come on, honey," the one who had voiced the invitation coaxed, "I've got some mistletoe right here." She threw down her cigarette, shoved away from the wall and waved a plastic sprig toward him.
It was imitation holly, but Rhys didn't see much point in mentioning that fact. "Sorry, no."
"Well, after you've had yer drink, gorgeous, I'll be waiting for ya ." She smiled, reaching out to trail the fake greenery down the lapel of his coat.
Rhys didn't respond and stepped past her to push open a windowless door sporting a tattered wreath. Before slipping into the smoky darkness of the bar, he stopped and looked back at the two prostitutes.
Even though they were young, if his senses were correct only in their late teens, they looked old, haggard. The reverse of him-with his youthful body and ancient existence.
On impulse, he reached into his pocket for his wallet.
The one closest to him watched his movement, the tip of her tongue running hungrily over the unnatural red of her lips. The one still against the wall stepped closer, her eyes also fastened to his movement, avarice burning in her dark eyes.
No, not the reverse, he realized. Not at all. They were truly just the same. Hunger ruling them, making them do things they never believed they would. The only difference was their bitterness was etched into their skin, where his was deceptively hidden, eating at his insides.
Rhys's hand stilled for a moment, but then he did pull out his money. He supposed he deserved to pay for feeling sympathy for these two. It must be that it was the season. He wouldn't let his hard-learned lessons slip his mind again.
He withdrew two bills. "Find a warm place to stay tonight."
The one near him snatched the money from his hand. Her eyes widened as she noted the denomination. "Thanks, mister." She immediately walked back to her coworker. "Come on, girlfriend. Let's go party!"
