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"They'll
catch us at this rate," Madison shouted, between
gasps. "Gotta split up."
"No!" But before
Reggie could tighten her grip, her younger sister pulled
free and swung left, sprinting west away from the downtown
area.
Reggie glanced back at the
group of six men closing in behind her. If she played
her hand right, they'd follow her and leave Madison
alone. The fastest runner on the team at the Paranormal
Investigative Agency, she could outrun every man, except
perhaps the boss. Tanner was made of iron and muscles.
No one could outrun, out gun, or outsmart him.
But if she wanted to live,
Reggie had better make it her goal to beat all of his
records and then some. She just hoped the hell Madison
got away.
Summoning every last ounce
of energy, she punched out, running straight for two
blocks to ensure the bad boys behind her wouldn't branch
off and pursue her sister. Just as she was about to
veer east, a shot rang out and something hard and fast
slammed against her left shoulder, spinning her around
so quickly she crashed into the brick corner of an office
building.
Surprise numbed the pain for
the first five seconds until her heart resumed function,
kicking her blood through her body and out the small
hole the size of a quarter on one side of her shoulder.
A glance backward confirmed the exit point was a lot
bigger. Her stomach lurched, and the pale glow of the
streetlamps dimmed. No. She couldn't pass out. Not now.
Have to run. Have to get farther away from Madison.
As fog crept in around her
peripheral vision, Reggie rounded the corner she'd been
aiming for and set off at a swift jog, her pace slowing
more each time her heels hit the pavement.
No. This couldn't happen. She would not be another one
of the victims she risked her life to protect. No way
would the gang members or bloodsuckers take her down
like they'd done her father.
Heartless bastards! All of
them.
Although Tanner said there
were good vamps out there, Reggie had it firmly in her
mind that the only good vampire was a dead vampire.
She repeated the words like a cadence, motivating her
legs to keep pumping and her feet to continue moving
away from her attackers.
The only good vampire is a-"
With only half a block between her and the six men,
she reached the end of the street and swung a hard right,
running into a solid wall of steel. Her forehead made
contact and then her chest, knocking what little air
was left from her lungs. The force of the collision
made her bounce backward, her head snapping up. With
no air to sustain breathing and her vision blurred,
the ground sucked her downward. As her knees buckled,
her mouth completed her sentence, "-dead vampire."
"I like to think of it
as the living dead." A deep voice with one of those
guttural, and incredibly sexy, foreign accents filled
her senses, and strong arms reached out to catch her
before she hit the pavement.
Her brain cloudy from blood
and oxygen loss, Reggie was thankful for the strength
of the man in front of her. But she had to get away.
Those men would catch up and do who knew what to her.
How the hell had the ambush they'd set up for the gang
turned into a trap for her and Madison? Where was the
rest of her team.
The gang had been waiting
for them as if they knew she and Madison were the bait
and they'd be alone. How had they known? The entire
situation stunk. Could there be a snitch on the inside
at PIA? Would Reggie and Madison end up missing like
the thirteen young women to date?
Bull shit.
She and Madison weren't victims.
They were the good guys sworn to catch the filthy scum
taking advantage of lone women.
Reggie struggled against the
vice grip holding her chest-to-chest with the stranger.
When she tried to right herself, her head swam, and
her knees refused to engage enough to hold her upright.
"Let me go," she said with more bravado than
conviction that she could stand on her own once released.
He chuckled, his chest vibrating
against hers. "If I do, you'll fall."
Footsteps rang out on the
streets behind her, and her body stiffened. "Let
me go!" No matter how strong this guy was, he couldn't
go against six men and hope to win. For that matter,
Reggie didn't know if he wasn't one of them. Had she
run right into the enemy?
The men rounded the corner
and skidded to a stop, their leader at the front-Cesar
Dominguez, a man Reggie knew from the mug shots on file
at the agency and the snake-dragon tattoo on his right
arm. He carried a nine-millimeter pistol and had it
pointed at the man holding her.
That settled one question
in Reggie's numb mind. Her rescuer wasn't one of the
gang she'd set out to capture. She would have sighed
her relief, but she still didn't know who the hell he
was.
"Let me have her, and I won't shoot you,"
Cesar said, stepping forward.
Her captor paused, not like
a hesitation, but as if to make sure his answer was
understood. "No." A single word, no negotiation,
and no compromise.
Reggie could like a guy like
this if she wasn't so uncertain of his alliance. Anyone
as incredibly gorgeous and sexy, with an accent that
could melt metal, had to be a bad guy. What had he said
to her? He liked to consider it living dead? What the
hell had he meant by that? Thoughts swirled around inside
her head like melting whipped cream in a stirred latte.
Why couldn't she focus?
Could it be the gallon of blood she'd lost running down
the street? Reggie trained her blurry gaze on Cesar
and clung to sexy man's chest to keep from slipping
to the ground.
"If you don't turn her
loose, then you die." He pointed the weapon at
the dark man's chest.
Before Cesar could squeeze the trigger, tall-dark-and-sexy
dropped his hold on Reggie, smacked the gun from Cesar's
hand so hard it flew high overhead and crashed through
a window. And he was back so fast he caught Reggie before
her knees gave out.
"What the fuck?"
Cesar shook his empty hand, his eyes wide.
"My friend, Nic, is a
show off," another voice said from behind them.
So her captor's name was Nic.
Reggie leaned her head back to peer around the man holding
her up, which proved to be a big mistake as the world
spun several times before it settled in place.
An even taller man, towering well above six feet, stood
behind her guy, wearing a black muscle shirt and black
jeans. Where her captor was as dark as a moonless night,
this new man was a vision of light. White hair fell
to his shoulders, and his pale blue eyes shown in the
limited glow from the nearby streetlamps. He was beautiful
and built like a Norse god, with muscles bulging beneath
the scrap of a shirt.
Even if she hadn't lost a
gallon of blood, Reggie might have swooned over these
guys. "Where do they come up with guys like you
and your buddy here?" Was that her voice, the one
that sounded like a drunken sailor? Her head lolled,
and her vision blurred.
No. She wouldn't pass out.
Good PIA's didn't crap out on the job. No, sir. "I'm
a good agent," she muttered and struggled to keep
her head upright.
"I'm sure you are,"
he said soothingly. "But could you shut up for
a moment?"
"No way to treat a lady,"
she pouted and leaned her head against the soft jersey
of the black T-shirt he wore, liking the feel of all
that muscle beneath her cheek. She could fall asleep
cradled as she was in his arms if her shoulder wasn't
aching so badly.
"Do you boys need more
convincing?" Nic called out.
Reggie's head jerked up, and
she glared across at Cesar and his gang of thugs. "Yeah,
what he said." If she weren't so dizzy from blood
loss and knocking into this man named Nic, she'd get
her ass in gear and fight.
"Please." Nic frowned
at her. "I can handle this."
"Just trying to help."
"I don't need your help,"
Nic said.
"Too bad." She pushed
away from him and faced Cesar. "You'd better slither
back into the gutter you crawled out of, or you'll be
the one to die, punk."
"Could you have been
a little more inflammatory?" Nic asked, shaking
his head.
The twinkle in his eye was
too cute, and if her shoulder wasn't hurting so badly,
she might be tempted to ask for his number when they
were done kicking Cesar's ass. "I aim to inflame."
"Seems you hit your mark. Let's hope he doesn't
hit his." The twinkle left Nic's eyes as Cesar
slid a knife out of his pocket and clicked it open.
Reggie's heart leaped at the
glint of steel flashing in the glare of a streetlight,
instantly regretting her taunting words. With a knife
that big and ugly, someone was bound to get hurt. She
hoped to hell it wasn't Nic. It would be a shame to
scar any part of his handsome face.
With a wave of his knife,
Cesar motioned his minions forward, and they circled
Reggie, Nic and the Norse god.
Blondie laughed out loud,
his mirth booming off the high rises. "Do they
really think they can frighten us?"
"You're not doing much
to persuade them otherwise, my friend." Nic's lips
twisted.
"Then let me demonstrate, since you seem to have
your hands full." He flexed his muscles and stalked
the man nearest him.
"Thank you," Nic
said, his voice dripping sarcasm.
Apparently these guys knew
each other well. Reggie watched in utter amazement as
the Norse god proved he was god-worthy and lifted the
man off his feet with one hand and tossed him twenty
feet. And he didn't even grunt or break a sweat.
Swaying slightly on her feet,
Reggie wished Nic was holding her steady. He'd seemed
so solid and strong. As if he could read her mind, his
arm snaked around her middle, and she gladly leaned
into him. She never leaned on people. Why did she want
to now? Maybe she was already unconscious and this was
all a really weird dream.
Cesar lunged at Nic, slicing
the wicked knife through the air. Nic dodged neatly,
shielding Reggie from the deadly blade. "If you're
through over there, I could use a hand here," he
called out over his shoulder.
"Just cleaning up the
little ones. You can handle him for a minute, can't
you?"
Reggie couldn't believe these
guys. She and Madison had high-tailed it out of Dodge
when they realized their backup had flown the coup and
left them holding the trap by themselves, six to two.
Not good odds when the six were mean looking, tattoo-bearing
thugs. But Nic and his Norse-god friend hadn't even
batted an eyelash.
Nic shifted her to his left
arm. Cesar took advantage of Nic's distraction and shot
forward, plunging his knife into Nic's gut.
"Ha!" Cesar said.
"Not as great as you thought you were, are you?"
Nic glanced down at his belly
as blood stained his shirt. Then he looked at her as
if annoyed. "Pardon me for a moment."
He stood her on her own and
then turned to Cesar. "You've irritated me long
enough, human."
Reggie's knees buckled, and she dropped to the pavement,
the jolt sending pain slicing through her injured arm.
Though the pain made her see squiggly bright lights
in the darkness of the night, she tried to prop herself
in a sitting position with her good arm.
Nic lifted Cesar off the ground
and flung him ten yards to the south as if he weighed
little more than a sack of sugar. How did he do that?
Some things about Nic and
his Norse friend weren't adding up. What had he called
Cesar? Human? And they were both incredibly strong.
She stared at the cut in his side as he dusted his hands
off. It wasn't bleeding anymore.
A cold chill shivered across
Reggie's skin. Something wasn't clicking, but her head
was too fuzzy to make sense of it.
Damn! Reggie slumped back
to the hard black surface of the street. At least Nic
and the Norse god were handling Cesar. She didn't have
the strength nor could she see straight enough to do
anything but lay back and watch the show.
And it was a terrific kick-butt
event, with Nic tossing thugs like firewood. She'd have
to remember to thank them for the entertainment when
she felt more herself. And maybe get the man's number.
He was a man a girl could sink her teeth into and so
vigorous, he'd probably be great in bed. What a babe.
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