Blood Bourbon

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Ryker

Ryker glared at the cartoonized vampire staring at him through the window of the store he walked into while on a mission to drink himself into a comfortable state of oblivion. The damned thing boasted a cape, slicked back hair, pale face, little Maltese cross thing and bats flying around for effect. Thank god humans were idiots when it came to vampires and other supernaturals.

And thank god Halloween was once a fucking year.

Granted, it allowed a supernatural to be a little less restrained with one's self but the obnoxious people in costumes, the screaming kids high on sugar and the twisted, commercialized concept of all-hallows eve had begun to grate his nerves over a decade ago. Lucky for Ryker, he was back home and a really well-known partier was having an exclusive party in a suburban part of the city.

But that was tomorrow, actually on Halloween.

Tonight he had to deal with the pumpkins and ghosts floating around as he walked by displays of candy and cheap costumes toward the liquor section. And the reason he was in a store and not in a bar was more aggravating than seeing a trivialized version of the more primal part of himself plastered all over the goddamned world.

Ryker had gotten home from a mission a few hours ago and walked into one of his favourite bars in hope of a little alcohol and company, only to find it full of... cowboys.

All of them were new to town, all of them wearing their full regalia, some of which showing off bright, shiny buckles and walking around like they owned the world, hitting on every woman in the place.

None of them were the cowboy he wanted to see.

The cowboy that he had been angry at for a couple weeks and then realized that he also felt something he had thought he left behind a long time ago. Regret.

Not to mention the added insult when the bastard Tim had barred his access from any documents even mentioning the man. Not that he could ask about it, but he couldn't even look into Daryl's file for a phone number. Ryker knew Tim was waiting for him to ask about it, but Ryker was just planning on cracking the sophisticated security protocols that Knight Corp employed to get it.

He had tried, several times over the last several weeks. And he was getting close.

But Ryker had not stumbled across mention of rodeos on a frequent basis around New Orleans. So when he saw all the fucking po-dunk assholes wandering around, he had stalked to the bar and ordered a beer out of sheer spite to the whole breed of idiot human. He had not been prepared for the reminder of Daryl, without the ability to see or talk to the man.

His favourite bartender had given him a hard look along with the pint. "Don't go fighting, Ryker... these boys are here for the circuit. It's good business."

The god damned circuit. How many rodeo circuits could there be?

Which meant that somewhere, out there, Daryl was in this city.

Contemplating that, Ryker had downed his beer with a scowl then headed for the Tavern. Which was free of any cowboys, had been all night, according to Cally.

When she had asked what he wanted, he had surprised them both by just leaving. He was restless and he knew that if he drank in public, he would get into a fight that would end up with him in the hot seat with his bosses. So Ryker tried to do the mature thing and spend the rest of his time sober, until he could go to the party.

While he was walking towards his car to do just that, Ryker saw the huge billboard advertising three days of rodeo starting the 1st and stumbled to a stop. The damned rodeo had not even started, wouldn't start for two days. Which meant that Daryl could be here for the next week. It was that discovery that had prompted him to drive to the all-night convenience, pick up a bottle of the cheapest whiskey he could find and drive back to his apartment to drink himself stupid.