Like, I’m totally proud of my body, but I don’t make a habit of walking around au naturel, and so this freaked me out almost as much as getting sliced and diced.
Frantic, my gaze darted around until I saw a stack of folded sheets. In the blink of an eye, I’d wrapped myself in one and was desperately looking for an exit while the pathologist and his assistant stood there, stunned. Then my brother rushed in, Dr. Mandy on his heels.
“I’m so sorry,” Mandy blurted. “I was on break when they came to get the homeless woman that was brought in yesterday. They misread the files and took you and—I’m just so sorry. Ohmigod,” she shrieked. “You’re bleeding!”
“It’s all right, babe.” Jack slid his arm around her. “It wasn’t your fault.”
“It was. I should have been more careful, but I was really dragging. I needed coffee and they’re not supposed to check anyone out unless I’m there.”
“It’s somebody else’s mistake. You did your best.”
“You’re not mad?”
“Why would I be mad? You didn’t do anything. You can’t help it if someone else breaks the rules. You’re still as conscientious, as dedicated as ever.”
“That’s so sweet.”
“You’re sweet.”
“No, you’re sweet.”
“Excuse me?” I hiked the sheet up more securely under my arms. “I hate to interrupt this warm fuzzy moment, but I’m naked and bleeding, and these guys want to chop me into little pieces.”
“Oh, they don’t chop you up. They just open you up and remove the internal organs.”
“Oh. Well, that makes me feel much better. Not!” I stepped toward my brother. “I was on the sharp end of a scalpel while I was asleep and totally vulnerable.”
“That’s a touchy situation for us,” Jack told Mandy. “Lil’s upset.”
“And mad.”
“But not at you,” Jack assured Mandy. “She’s just upset in general.”
“Your ass. You said I was safe.”
“I thought you were.” Mandy sniffled. “I’m really sorry.”
Her eyes brightened and before I knew it, I heard myself say, “It’s okay.”
“Really?”
“Really. I’m sure you didn’t purposely set me up for an autopsy. That would totally kill your chances at impressing my folks.”
She smiled. “Exactly.”
“She didn’t have a pulse,” the receding hairline said, his trembling voice drawing everyone’s attention. He’d finally zoned back to the situation at hand. “I checked myself and she didn’t have a pulse and now she’s talking and bleeding and talking.”
“This is some weird shit,” the camera guy muttered. “Twisted.”
“She had no body temperature, either. I checked that myself, too.” The hairline shook his head as if trying to make some sense out of everything. “She was cold. Ice cold.”
“You try sleeping in a refrigerator,” I said. His eyes widened and he stumbled backward.
“I—I have to call security.”
“Lil,” my brother said. “Could you do something please?”
Me? What was I supposed to do—oh, yeah.
I took a deep, calming breath, ignored the burning in my chest, and fixed my gaze on receding hairline who was backing his way toward the door.
“Don’t move,” I said as I stared deep into his fear-filled eyes. He stopped. His expression went from shocked to surprised. “You’re not really here. You’re in the lounge taking a nap and all of this”—I motioned around us—“it’s all a dream.” I smiled and gave him a seductive look. His features eased and a hungry light fired his gaze. “A fantasy. An X-rated fantasy.”
The guy had seen me naked.
“W—what are you?” the camera guy mumbled.
“I already told you.” I shifted my attention to him where he cowered between two large metal shelves. “A fantasy.”
“You’re not my fantasy…” His words faded along with the brightness of his gaze. I got a glimpse of a skinny woman with mousy brown hair and lots of freckles. His wife.
My own fear eased and my heart gave a little double thump.
“I’m what happens after one too many salami sandwiches.” Okay, so I got a glimpse of today’s lunch, too.
“You mean, like indigestion?” the camera guy asked.
My brother snickered and I shot him a shut-up-or-I’ll-make-forever-seem-like-a-really-long-time look.
“Exactly,” I told the man. It wasn’t very glamorous, but hey, I was a matchmaker, not a home wrecker. Besides, you had to give props to a guy who fantasized about his significant other.
“At least they waited until evening for the autopsy,” I said a few minutes later as Mandy led me into the ladies’ locker room, after she’d doused my half-inch cut with antiseptic.
I know. Vampire. Immortal. But Mandy was freaked and I didn’t blame her. I was sort of frantic myself even though I knew that twenty-four hours from now I would be back to my usual perfect self.
“Don’t forget these.” Jack ducked his head into the locker room and set the suitcases he’d retrieved from the Hummer just inside the door. He winked at Mandy and then the door closed.
Still wrapped in the sheet, I sat on a bench while Mandy grabbed one of my suitcases and hauled it over to me.
“A few minutes more and I would have been history,” I added.
“Dr. Morrow likes to stay ahead of schedule.” She set the suitcase on the bench and unlatched it. “He’s a real go-getter and he’s gunning for a promotion. You weren’t scheduled until tomorrow morning. The transient, I mean. She wasn’t scheduled until then, but he figured he would get her out of the way this evening before he called it a day.” She eyed the sheet I clutched around me. “I’m really sorry about your clothes.”
“I’ve got plenty more.” I swallowed against the lump in my throat, flipped open the suitcase, and retrieved a pair of jeans and a sequined Guess T-shirt.
“Take your time. The second shift doesn’t check in for a few more hours.” She flashed me an apologetic smile and left me to change.
A few minutes later, I met Mandy and my brother in the hallway.
“You can stay at my apartment,” Mandy told me as we headed for one of the rear exits. “I’ve got a large storage closet that’s pretty dark.”
“My apartment will probably be too risky since I’m your brother,” Jack added. “The police are sure to check me out.”
I’d thought the same thing. But if they met the were-Chihuahua or anyone else who might have seen Jack and Mandy, they would be paying her a visit as well. Which meant chilling in Mandy’s large, dark storage closet might not be the smartest thing to do, either.
I shook my head. “Thanks, but no thanks.” I handed Jack the keys to my parents’ Hummer and patted the ATM envelope stuffed into my front jeans pocket. “I’ve got cash now, and the night is young. I’ll find someplace until this mess gets sorted out.”
Jack gave my shoulder a squeeze. “I’m sure if you lay low long enough they’ll find the real killer.”
Maybe.
And maybe they would just keep looking for me.
The last thought followed me down the back alley and around to the side of the building where a cab waited. Darkness had fallen, and the city had come alive in a blaze of lights.
“Where to?” the driver asked once I’d stowed my luggage and climbed into the backseat.
The question swam in my head for several minutes as I contemplated my options. I couldn’t go to my family. And I couldn’t go to my friends. I could go to an out-of-the-way hotel room for now. While I would more than likely be safe, there was still a chance that I would wake up to find myself handcuffed and in custody.
If I woke up at all.
The cut on my chest burned and I shuddered. I could run and try to hide, all right, but there was no guarantee that I would be safe.
Unless…
“Lady? You okay?”
“No.” I shook my
head. “I’m not. Not yet.” But I might be, with a little help from a certain tall, dark, and megadelicious bounty hunter.
“Are you sure this is the right place?”
“You said Washington Street, lady. This is Washington Street.”
I stared at the worn numbers printed next to the large steel door that led to what had once been a massive warehouse. My stomach clenched because I knew I was about to realize my worst fear.
Okay, so it wasn’t my worst. But it ranked right up there with pale blue polyester pants, a management position at Midnight Moe’s, and vamp detectors at Barney’s.
We’re talking a ten on my holy-shit-o-meter.
See, Ty is a major babe. Good looking. Sexy. Tasty. Whenever I’m around him, I tend to let my desperate need for a few fantastic orgasms do my thinking for me. Not a good thing since I’ve given up meaningless sex and mindless biting, and that’s all Ty and I could ever share on account of his being a made vampire and I’m a born vampire and, well, it’s just one of those tragic Shakespearean things. Forget taking him home for the weekly hunt. My parents would stake first and talk later. As for me…I am so totally saving myself for The One.
I know. Major goober alert. But after five hundred years of instant gratification, I want to give eternity a try.
And so Ty was definitely O-U-T.
But while I knew all the reasons why it shouldn’t happen, I seemed to forget about them whenever he and I were in the same room. Or floating midair and watching kinky sex acts (a story all by itself).
So you can see how desperate I was to even consider cohabitating with him. But I needed a safe place and someone who didn’t top the police’s she’s-gottabe-here list. Ty, with his mucho connections to the New York Police Department, not to mention the FBI, surely cruised below everybody’s radar. The guy hunted criminals for a living. No way would the police think he might harbor one.
A desperate, sex-starved female vamp with fantabulous taste and a weakness for violence? A great big fat yes, as it turned out.
I’d called and explained the situation to him (in great detail, complete with several surprised gasps and lots of justified indignation). And, okay, so I’d cried a little, too, but I’ve been under major stress and so it only stands to reason that I would be understandably upset. We’re talking murder.
He believed me, of course, even before the waterworks. How could he not? We’re, like, mind-fused. See, ever since I’d tasted his blood, I’d found myself mentally linked to him. I could hear his thoughts when he wanted me to, and he could hear mine.
I wasn’t one hundred percent comfortable with this new ability and so I’d pretended otherwise and blurted out the whole story. I’d asked for a place to stay. He’d agreed and given me his address.
Turns out, he lived in the heart of New York’s meatpacking district. I know, right? It sounded totally rough and tough (which fit Ty to the proverbial T), but the place had recently evolved into one of the trendier sections of the city. The district was now home to gourmet restaurants, art galleries, fab boutiques, and even a few name designers, including one of my ultra-faves, Carlos Miele over on West Fourteenth. We’re talking chic.
And so on the ride over, I’d actually entertained the possibility that Ty wasn’t the yang to my yin. Maybe, just maybe, he was merely a (horrified gasp) retro sexual (think metro sexual with oodles of trendy style) masquerading as a cool and macho bounty hunter.
While I’m ridiculously attracted to cool and macho, guys with pedicures and more hair products than me just don’t punch my buttons. I could so totally room with a retro sexual for an unspecified period of time (until I could figure my way out of this mess and prove my innocence) and keep my fangs to myself. No problemo.
But a bona fide, hard-edged, rugged, naturally sexy alpha vamp?
Problem.
“Ain’t no stars out tonight,” the cabbie said as my nerves started to buzz and the initial panic I’d felt when I’d first called Ty welled up inside me. “It’s kinda dark.”
“Very.” Not that it hindered me. My vamp vision cut through the shadows and drank in the monstrous warehouse.
Obviously the chic stopped several feet away, because this small section of Washington Street looked virtually untouched by New York’s trendsetters. The porch light had been knocked out. Shadows crowded near the large, garagelike door. Rust caked the hinges. Graffiti covered the metal walls. The place screamed alpha.
Big problem.
I took a deep, easy breath, paid the cabbie, and climbed from the backseat.
“You want me to wait here, lady?” he asked as he retrieved my luggage from the trunk. “In case you need to make a quick getaway?”
I swallowed a yes and shook my head. “No, um, thanks.” I turned to stare at the building again. “I’ll be fine.”
Or so I desperately hoped.
“I don’t mind waiting,” the guy—Norm, according to his license hanging on the partition—told me. “You’re a really pretty lady and it just wouldn’t be right to leave you out here all by yourself.”
Okay, so I knew he was just responding to my vamp charm, but there was something really sweet about the offer.
I stared into his eyes and read the details swimming in his head. Norm Walker. Fifty-seven years old. Proud father of five. Even prouder grandfather of eight. Happily married to one Earline Walker, his high school sweetheart. While I was the prettiest thing since sliced bread, Earline had given birth to his kids and cleaned his house, and made pot roast once a week for the past thirty-eight years.
Does Norm totally rock or what?
I smiled. “I’ll be fine.” I will, I added silently, or so I hoped. I gave Norm an I’m just a really great dream and you’ll forget all about me tomorrow look, gathered up my luggage and walked to the front door.
“You sure?” Norm leaned out the window.
“Positive.” Go home, I willed silently. And don’t forget to stop and pick up some flowers for Earline. And candy. And offer to give her a foot massage.
Hey, we’re talking five kids and pot roast. It was the least I could do.
“Well, okay then.” Norm didn’t look very convinced, but another long, lingering glance from me and he finally nodded, slid back across the seat, and gunned the engine.
I ignored the urge to turn and bolt after the cab as it rolled away.
So what if Ty wasn’t a retro sexual? There was still hope. Maybe he just looked cool because I didn’t really know him. Sure, I knew he smelled good and felt good (all hard lines and solid muscle) and kissed good and had a very tasty blood type, but what did I really know?
Seeing him decked out in all his bounty hunter coolness was a lot different than seeing him in his natural element. What if the hot, sexy bounty hunter was just an illusion? A carefully constructed image to hide the fact that he was (please, please, please) a total slob?
What if there were empty bottles of blood sitting everywhere? What if he walked around burping all the time? Better yet, what if he answered the door wearing a wife beater, baggy boxers, and mismatched socks?
I pressed the intercom button next to the door, and Ty buzzed me inside. The warehouse was three stories, and Ty lived on the top floor. I followed a narrow hallway to a freight elevator at the rear of the building and headed for the third floor.
Ty answered the door wearing a pair of worn, faded jeans and nothing else.
Uh-oh.
The luggage slipped from my hands and landed at my feet. My mouth went dry.
He had broad shoulders, muscular arms, and a six-pack that would make Brad Pitt (à la Troy) envious. His dark, shoulder-length hair hung around his face in casual disarray, as if he’d been running his hands through it. A small scar bisected the edge of one eyebrow and my fingers still tingled from the feel of it. (Yesss, I’d felt it before, but, unfortunately, in a totally nonsexual situation.) Wait a second. Did I say unfortunately? Kill the prefix. He’d kept his distance and I’d kept mine. Fortunate, no un involved.
>
His blue gaze was bright and electric as it met mine. My hands immediately trembled. My tummy flipped. Electricity fairly sizzled in the air between us and my nipples immediately perked up. Oh, and a few other areas snapped to attention, as well.
I blinked against a sudden rush of tears and his image swam in front of me.
“Hey,” his deep voice slid into my ears and one strong hand touched my shoulder, “it’s okay. This is all just a mistake. A bad mistake.”
“You’re telling me.” I sniffled and blinked his image back into focus. Bad move. As the details grew clearer, my panic mounted, along with my lust. How in the world was I going to do this? I was standing on his doorstep, about to waltz inside and share the same space with him—the mega hot, half-naked made vampire who’d inspired more than one erotic fantasy with his whole bad ass, alphalicious cowboy image—and I wasn’t going to bite him. Yeah. Right.
My eyes misted again.
“Take it easy.” Before I could so much as sniffle, he pulled me inside the apartment and led me over to a small living area. “There’s no reason to get upset.” He eased me down onto a leather sofa. “We can figure a way out of this.”
We could? Of course we could. We were mature adults. There were oodles of things we could do to deal with the situation. We could respect each other’s personal space. We could sleep in separate rooms. He could wear clothes. I could wear a blindfold.
“I put in a call to this guy I know in the department.” He walked back to the door to retrieve my luggage. “He’ll give us a hand.”
“Does he know how to braid a garlic necklace?” Wait a sec. Ty was a vamp, meaning he couldn’t wear the blasted thing. Talk about a no-win situation.
He set my bags inside the doorway and shut and locked the door. “What did you say?”
“Never mind.” I settled on the soft leather while Ty plopped down in a nearby chair. Far, far away, or so I was trying to convince myself. The scent of him—fresh air and freedom and a hint of danger—teased my nostrils.
Yum.
Wait a second. No yum. This was not a yum situation and Ty was not going to sweep me off my feet and we were not going to have wild, monkey sex on the comfy-looking bed sitting across the room. And we certainly weren’t going to have a major drink fest to go with it.
Dead and Dateless Page 6
