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keeping her safe. She didn't generally like his meddling, but they came up in a bad neighborhood and she often made even worse choices. And this last time, with this last guy, Diego had made the mistake of letting him take her away.
    He brushed his wavy black hair back and put his sunglasses on his forehead. Diego's right hand reached to his left wrist and patted the leather jacket sleeve, feeling the silver knife strapped beneath. Then he stepped up to the bar.
    Diego took the farthest stool to the left, trying to keep as few people behind him as possible.
    Mind your own business, bro.
    She usually said it half-jokingly, even when she knew he had saved her ass. And Diego had tried. But somehow Angelica had finally gotten herself into real trouble.

    ii.

     
    "You're new in Sanctuary, ain't ya?"
    Diego smelled cinnamon and looked up at the bartender. She had a milky complexion and long, dyed-red hair. She looked like a model with her high cheekbones and thin eyebrows. She wore bright blue jeans and a spiked black corset that clung tightly to her big hips and accentuated her breasts. Topping off her wardrobe were silk gloves running to her elbows and a choke collar loosely hanging from her neck.
    "I've only been here a few days," Diego answered, "but I feel that I've been productive with my time so far."
    "Oh yeah?" she asked playfully. "What have you been up to?"
    "Looking for a girl."
    She leaned her chest forward as she rested her elbows on the bar. "Isn't everybody?" Diego raised his eyebrows and chuckled. "What are you having?" she asked.
    "Do you have a spicy Bloody Mary mix?"
    "Everything's spicy here." The bartender grabbed a tall glass and filled it with a scoopful of ice and rested it and the pitcher of tomato juice in front of her. Then she picked up a clear bottle from the shelf behind her. "How about a Grey Goose?"
    Diego shook his head and pointed. "Just that."
    The voluptuous woman traced Diego's finger to the shelf but appeared confused. "Just the well?"
    "No, just the Bloody Mary mix."
    She laughed for a second then stopped, realizing he wasn't joking. "It..." she started, jutting her chin to the side, "I don't think that's in the system."
    The biker smiled. "That's fine. Just charge me for the full drink."
    The cute girl shrugged in acquiescence. "I'm Melody, by the way." The bartender poured the mixer and placed the glass in front of Diego. "What's your name?"
    He slightly bowed his head to the side. "Diego de la Torre, madam."
    "De la Torre?" she asked, her eyes lighting up. "What is that, Mexican?"
    "Not that I know of." Diego sipped his drink. It was a good, peppery mix.
    "Oh, man of mystery, huh? That means this girl you're looking for ought to be quite mysterious herself."
    Without seeing any other immediate leads, Diego figured the bartender was the best person to start with.
    "Her name's Angelica. Curly black hair, skin darker than mine. She came out this way with a guy from the motorcycle gang."
    Melody threw her head back and let out a robust laugh.
    Diego wasn't sure what was funny. "The Seventh Sons, do you know them?"
    The bartender kept laughing and waved her hands to excuse herself.
    "It's not like that," Diego said. "She's my sister."
    "No, no, I'm sorry," said Melody, finally taking a breath. "That's not it. Why, did you think I was jealous?"
    The girl really was determined to flirt. This was one of the few times where that insistence frustrated him. "What am I missing?"
    Melody pressed her body against the bar and touched her glove to his hand. He felt the tension leave him as he looked into her pale green eyes. Her face was the most serene and welcoming thing he could imagine. Then her gaze snapped to a fixed point behind him, and just for an instant, he recognized fear.

    iii.

     
    "You've got some balls coming back in here."
    Diego turned at the sound of the familiar voice. Somehow, the exact man he was hoping to avoid was standing at the front door.
    "Gaston."
    The man, who was in his