Dead Sexy by Amanda Ashley
Unlocking the door, she stepped inside and closed it behind her. For a moment, she just stood there, grateful to be home again.
Dropping her bags on the sofa, she glanced at the window Mr. DeLuca had replaced. No doubt it had been broken the night Santiago had confronted Vasile. She lifted a hand to the back of her head, thinking she was lucky to be alive.
Going into the kitchen, she filled a pitcher with water and then went from room to room, watering her wilted plants. When that was done, she returned to the kitchen. She decided on French toast and sausage for breakfast. It took only minutes to prepare. She put her plate on the table, poured herself a small glass of grapefruit juice and a cup of coffee, and then sat down. She ate slowly, savoring every bite. It felt good to eat without Santiago watching her every move, and yet she missed having him there.
He loved her.
She loved him.
With a sigh, she pushed her plate away, her appetite gone. Why, out of all the men she had known, did she have to fall in love with a vampire? Talk about star-crossed lovers!
Rising, she rinsed her dishes and put them in the dishwasher. She took a shower, washed her hair, and then slipped into an old T-shirt and a pair of shorts. She turned on the radio, found a station she liked, and then spent the next hour and a half dusting, vacuuming, and sweeping—ordinary tasks to keep her from thinking of an extraordinary man.
It worked, until she changed the sheets on her bed, remembering that his were black satin, remembering that she had spent the night in his arms.
She pushed the memory away, gathered her dirty sheets, and shoved them in the washer.
Needing a distraction, she called Michael.
He answered the phone on the second ring. “Reggie! It’s about time. How are you? Where are you?”
“I’m fine, Mike. I’m home. Anything new?”
“Nada. Things have been as quiet as a tomb.”
She grimaced at his choice of words. “Thank God.”
“Yeah. Whoever the killer is, he seems to have left town.”
“For good, I hope,” she said fervently.
“Yeah. Listen, I’m off duty tonight. How about dinner?”
She hesitated a moment, doubts running through her mind. She was a werewolf now. What if Michael suspected? No, that was silly. She looked the same as always. She knew Joaquin wouldn’t like it, but he didn’t need to know.
“Reggie?”
She took a deep breath. “Sure. What time?”
“Six? Six-thirty.”
“All right. I have some errands to run before then. Why don’t I meet you at Mr. Charlie’s?” It was a small café on the other side of town, favored by cops and others in law enforcement of one kind or another.
“Okay by me. See you then.”
“All right.”
“And Reggie?”
“Yeah?”
“I missed you.”
She hesitated a moment before replying, “Me, too, you. See you at six-thirty.”
Regan stared at the phone in her hand, wondering what Santiago would say if she told him she had a date, and then she shook her head. She didn’t have to tell him anything. Even though he had said he loved her, even though she loved him, that was as far as it went. Try as she might, she just couldn’t see any kind of future for the two of them. She was a werewolf. He was a vampire. She lived by day. He lived by night. She was going to find Vasile and destroy him and when she did, she wouldn’t be a werewolf anymore. Joaquin would always be a vampire.
Vasile. She had no idea where he was or how to find him. But she would.
She spent the rest of the day pretending nothing in her life had changed. She did her laundry. She picked up her overdue cleaning and then went grocery shopping, wondering all the while what people would think and say and do if they knew there was a werewolf in their midst.
Returning home, she went into the kitchen to put her groceries away, surprised to find that she had bought mostly meat instead of the fruits, vegetables, and whole wheat bread that once made up most of her normal diet.
At five, she took another shower and shaved her underarms and her legs—were they hairier than usual? Standing naked in front of the mirror in the bedroom, she looked at herself critically. As far as she could tell, she looked the same as always. Needing to feel feminine, she decided to forego her usual slacks and a sweater in favor of a dress and heels.
At five forty-five, she picked up her handbag, checked to make sure her gun was inside and loaded, and left the house. If she hurried, she could drop off Santiago’s car, catch a cab, and get to the restaurant by six-thirty.
Her heart began pounding a bit erratically as she pulled up in front of Santiago’s lair. From the outside, the building was disreputable. The windows were boarded up and there was so much indecent graffiti scrawled across the walls, you couldn’t see the color of the building’s original paint. She wondered how long Santiago had lived there, and where he would go if some developer came along and bought the property out from under him.
After locking the car door, she picked her way across the sidewalk and ducked through the doorway.
She stopped just inside, wishing she had a flashlight. With the sun setting, what little light there was disappeared as she went deeper into the building.
She had almost reached the staircase at the far side of the building when she realized she wasn’t alone.
Someone was following her.
She glanced over her shoulder, her gaze searching the shadows. “Who’s there?”
Who’s there, who’s there, who’s…? Her voice echoed off the stone walls.
Had she imagined it? She was about to turn back toward the stairs when a man stepped out from behind a cement pillar. She couldn’t see his face clearly in the darkness, but she could smell him. He reeked of old sweat and alcohol and some sickly sweet smell she didn’t recognize.
“What are you doing in here, girlie?” he asked, staggering toward her.
She didn’t answer. Instead, she reached into her handbag and withdrew her gun.
“Get out of here,” she said. “You’re trespassing.”
“Trespassin’?” He barked a laugh. “You gonna tell me you live here?” He laughed again. It was an ugly sound, filled with menace.
“I mean it,” she said. “Get out of here, or I’ll shoot.”
“Nah, you don’t wanna do that,” he said, and lunged toward her.
Heart pounding, Regan squeezed the trigger—and still the man came toward her. She couldn’t have missed, she thought, not at this range. And then there was no more time for thought.
Before she could fire again, the man was on her. He yanked the gun from her grasp and tossed it away. She struggled against him, fighting with every ounce of strength she possessed, but he was impervious to her blows. Once, her fingers touched something warm and sticky and she knew then that she hadn’t missed, and that he was high on something stronger than whiskey.
Muttering obscenities, he wrestled her to the floor.
She screamed when his filthy hands groped under her skirt, inching up her calf to her thigh. Why had she worn a dress? She jabbed her knee into his groin but to no avail. He only laughed that awful laugh. She gagged when his mouth covered hers.
Ad then, suddenly, he was gone.
She heard a startled cry as he was lifted off of her, a sharp sound of pain, and then all was quiet. The air filled with the sharp stink of urine—and the scent of blood.
Scrambling to her hands and knees, Regan searched the floor for her gun, sobbing with relief when she found it.
Gaining her feet, her pistol clutched in a two-handed grip, she moved as silently as she could toward the doorway. If she could just make it outside…
She screamed as a hand closed over her arm.
“Regan.”
Relief washed through her at the sound of his voice. Turning, she threw her arms around his neck.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
She nodded. ??
His hand stroked her hair. “I always know when you are near. Come.”
Taking the gun from her hand, he slipped his arm around her waist and guided her down the stairs to his lair. Inside, he eased her down on the sofa, then dropped her gun on the coffee table.
“You are bleeding.”
Regan glanced down at her legs. Blood was oozing from a cut just above her left knee. She looked up at Santiago, thinking that bleeding in front of a vampire wasn’t a very smart thing to do. Fear skittered down her spine when she saw the faint red glow in his eyes.
“Stay here,” he said, and fled the room.
Returning a few moments later, he handed her a damp washcloth, then turned his back to her, his hands clenched at his sides, while she wiped away the blood, grateful it was just a scratch.
“Does it bother you that much, the sight of blood? I thought you could go a long time without feeding?”
“The need to feed grows less with age. The desire never goes away. Seeing your blood…you have no idea how tempting it is, or how it arouses me.”
Quickly blotting the last of it, she wadded the bloody cloth up and placed it on the table beside her gun, then pulled her skirt down over her knees, glad that it was long enough to cover the wound. “I’m through.”
He hesitated a moment before he turned to face her.
“I have to go,” Regan said, getting to her feet.
“Then why did you come?”
“I borrowed your car this morning. I hope you don’t mind. It’s parked outside. I thought you might need it.” She didn’t realize how silly that sounded until she said it. He was a vampire, the master of the city. He didn’t need his car to get around. Why not admit that she had wanted to see him again? The car had just been an excuse.
The look in his eyes told her he knew it, as well.
“Can I use your phone?” she asked. “I need to call a cab and I left my phone at home.”
“There is no need. I will take you wherever you wish to go.”
“No, I…” Her voice trailed off. She couldn’t tell him why she needed a ride. How could she have ever thought coming here was a good idea? Was she subconsciously hoping he would talk her out of her date with Michael? Why had she even agreed to go out with Michael when it was Santiago she wanted to be with? The words, because Mike’s not a vampire, whispered in the back of her mind. Vampire or not, it didn’t change how she felt about Santiago. “Just let me call a cab.”
He looked at her, his eyes narrowed. “Regan, what is going on?”
She blew out a breath. She might just as well tell him the truth and get it over with. “I have a date with Michael.”
“Indeed?” The word was clipped, cold. “Is that why you came here? To tell me you are going out with another man?”
“No, I…” She glanced at her watch. “I’m sorry,” she said miserably. “I shouldn’t have come here. I’ve got to go.”
“Take my car,” he said curtly.
“No.”
“Cab drivers will not pick up fares in this part of town.”
“Joaquin…”
“Go! I would not want you to be late.”
“The body…”
“I will take care of it.”
Afraid anything she said or did from that point on would only make matters worse, she grabbed her gun and hurried out the door. The scent of blood and death enveloped her when she reached the ground floor of the building.
She averted her eyes as she passed the dead man, thinking how differently things would have turned out if Santiago hadn’t come to her rescue. Of course, she wouldn’t have been there in the first place if it wasn’t for him.
After unlocking the car door, she slid behind the wheel, locked the door, and punched in the ignition code, only to sit there, her hands trembling on the wheel as she fought the urge to cry.
Taking a deep breath, she pulled away from the curb, wondering what excuse she could give Michael for being late.
He was waiting for her inside the restaurant. He rose when she entered. Murmuring, “Hi, gorgeous,” he wrapped his arms around her and kissed her cheek.
“Hi, Mike. Sorry I’m late.”
“It’s okay.” Taking a step back, his gaze moved over her. “It was worth the wait.”
“Thank you.”
A hostess seated them a few moments later. Regan noted that most of the tables were empty, but that wasn’t surprising. Mr. Charlie’s was the kind of place that drew a late-night crowd.
“It’s been a long time,” Michael remarked. “And seems even longer.”
“Yes.”
He tilted his head to the side, his expression thoughtful. “You look…different somehow.”
Regan’s heart did a funny little flip-flop in her chest. “Different?” Could he tell that she had been bitten? Was it that obvious? “Different how?”
He sat back, his arms crossed over his chest. “I’m not sure.”
“I don’t know what could be different,” she said, forcing a smile. “I haven’t changed anything. Same hair, same perfume, same lipstick.”
“Probably just my imagination. Whatever the difference is, I approve.”
“So, how are things at work?” she asked, hoping to steer the conversation into another, safer direction.
“Same as always. Oh, Holloway was promoted to lieutenant on Friday.”
“Holloway! I thought you were next in line?”
“Yeah, me, too.”
“You deserved it more. Holloway’s an ass.”
“I can’t argue with you there,” Michael said, laughing. “Here comes the waitress. Are you going to have your usual?”
Her usual was a large Cobb salad and a glass of iced tea. “Not tonight. I think I’ll have a steak. Very rare. And a glass of red wine.”
Michael’s eyebrows lifted in surprise. “Rare? Not well done?”
She shrugged. “I decided to try it your way tonight.”
He looked at her oddly for a moment, then gave the waitress their order.
Regan fidgeted with her napkin. It seemed odd to be sitting there, though she wasn’t sure why. Maybe it was just odd to be with Mike after spending so much time with Santiago. She asked Mike about work, her mind wandering as he told her about the case he was working on.
When their order arrived, Regan stared at the slab of meat on her plate for a moment before cutting into it. What on earth had possessed her to order it rare? It was blood red inside, more like raw than rare. Stabbing a piece with her fork, she took a bite. Heaven, she thought, pure heaven. Why had she ever ordered her steaks well done?
She was halfway through her meal when she had the unmistakable impression that she was being watched. Slowly turning her head to the side, she saw Santiago seated at a table near the window. She felt a sharp pain in her heart when she noticed that he was with the same red-haired female vampire she had seen him with once before.
She was wondering how the redhead had eluded the barrier when Santiago looked her way and caught her staring. Her first instinct was to lower her gaze; instead, she smiled faintly, as if it was of no concern at all that he was out with someone else. And why should it matter? Santiago was a vampire. His date was a vampire. As her grandmother always said, there can be happiness only when like marries like, a saying that had never been truer than now.
Regan tore her gaze from Santiago’s and smiled at Mike while an impish little voice in the back of her head whispered that werewolves and vampires had a lot more in common than werewolves and mortals.
Chapter 21
Regan forced a smile as she bid Michael good night at the curb. They had enjoyed a leisurely dinner followed by coffee and dessert, and then spent the rest of the evening dancing. She had been all too aware of Santiago’s presence, all too jealous of the woman he danced with. Once, Regan had thought he was going to ask her to dance, but he had walked past her as if she didn’t exist.
He and the red-haired woman had lef
“I had a good time tonight, Reggie,” Michael said, taking her into his arms.
“Me, too.” It was partially true. She had been having a good time until Santiago showed up with the redhead.
“I’m off again tomorrow night. What do you say? Wanna catch an early dinner and a movie?”
She didn’t, not really, but the thought of Santiago and the red-haired vampire made her smile and say, “Sure, why not?”
“Great, I’ll pick you up at what, six-thirty, seven?”
“I’ll check the Net for showtimes and give you a call.”
“Sounds good. I’ve got court in the morning, so we’ll have to make it an early night. Hey,” he said, noticing the Speedster for the first time as she punched in the code to unlock the door. “When did you get that?”
“What?”
“The Speedster.” He whistled softly. “Those things cost a small fortune.”
“Oh, that, I…my car’s in the shop and I…uh, borrowed this from a friend.”
“Must be some friend.”
“Yes. Well, good night, Mike.”
He slipped his arm around her waist and kissed her good night. “See you tomorrow night.”
With a nod, she slid behind the wheel, closed the door, and started the car. She waved to Michael as she pulled away from the curb.
Distracted, she punched her address into the Speedster’s computer, then sat back and let the car do the driving. She wasn’t taking the car back to Santiago this time; she didn’t want to take a chance of barging in on him and the woman. If he wanted his car, he could darn well come and get it.
The Speedster pulled up to the curb and parked. The lights went out, the engine stopped, and the door opened.
Regan grabbed her handbag and got out of the car, only then remembering she hadn’t left any lights on in her apartment. “Stop being such a coward,” she muttered as she went up the stairs. “You’re a vampire hunter and a werewolf. What is there to be afraid of?”