Part 1 (2/2)

”I'm not sure what you mean,” she lied easily, s.h.i.+fting her body so that she could draw her gun without it being quite so obvious.

”My little dancer,” he repeated. ”I know you've seen her. I can smell her on you. I want her back.” He spoke slowly, politely, with just the wisp of an accent in his voice...Spanish? Smell her? ”Can't help you,” she said flatly. And even though the description she had gotten out of Dani had been basically worthless, she knew she was talking to the man who had been scaring her. ”I really don't know any dancers.”

”Do not lie to me,” he whispered. It sounded like snakes. Like a snake hissing, like snakes slithering against other snakes.

”Not lying.” She didn't really know Dani. Just because she was trying to help her out didn't mean she knew her.

He moved-from fifteen feet away to less than five-so quickly, in a blink. Her head was going foggy again.

Fortunately, her reflexes weren't. She stepped back-one step, two-while lifting her gun and pointing it straight at the man's nose.

”Don't come any closer,” she warned.

”Do you really think that silly gun can hurt me? Didn't she warn you? Tell you what I am?”

”A bullet that will rip your head from your shoulders will hurt you, I promise.”

”Rip my head from my shoulders?” he repeated, sounding amused.

His voice sounded like honey now, sweet, addictive. He moved another gliding step closer, and she wanted it. Wanted him to touch her, to taste her. Wanted to hear his voice. ”Yes,” he purred.

The honey was poisoned. She heard it and she narrowed her eyes. Concentrated. Focused.

The man's eyes narrowed and he c.o.c.ked his head, studying her-puzzled.

”Get away from me,” she said softly. ”Now.”

”No.” He said it just as softly, an evil smile curling his mouth. ”I think I've changed my mind. I don't want that silly little dancer now. I want you.”

A sick ball of fear curled in her belly but she only arched an eyebrow. ”Sorry. Charming as the offer is, I'll have to pa.s.s.” Her arm was starting to shake. She couldn't keep that gun aimed at his angelic looking face much longer.

”It'll be fun,” he promised, as if she hadn't spoken.

”You will be a fun toy, not just an appetizing snack. I bet you're a good f.u.c.k, as well. I bet you've got a tight, wet little p.u.s.s.y. I'm going to enjoy finding out.”

Color heated her cheeks and she fell back another step.

He laughed and lunged.

The bullet tore through his nasal bones, through his brain and out the back of his skull. He fell backward.

And lay on the ground, still breathing, still bleeding.

Still living-and cursing her.

Tori ran.

She holed up in her office.

She had food, bullets, a shower in the back and spare clothes. She had a crazy dancer in her bed. She could handle this.

He hadn't actually started trying to come after her. He hadn't really been rolling to his knees, his ruined voice swearing, d.a.m.ning and cursing her.

He had been dead. It was just her imagination going into overtime. He had just been so eerie.

So strange.

So scary.

He had scared her. Deep, gut wrenching, pee-in-your- pants scared her.

Tori paced the small confines of her office, trying to figure out what she was going to do.

Either he was what Dani had said or Tori had killed a man.

She whirled and grabbed the phone.

Declan.

She needed to call Declan.

He could help.

Of course, why she was so certain, she didn't know.

But he could help. He would help.

She had his pager number, and she was almost positive he always kept it with him, even while on personal time. Dialing the number, she listened to the soothing melody of his voice, and left a message of her own.

”This is Tori. As soon as you get this, call me. Declan, I need you.” She marked it urgent, sent it, an d slammed down the phone.

Curling in her chair, she settled down to wait, her eyes on the door.

Stupid, f.u.c.king b.i.t.c.h.

The d.a.m.ned bullet had almost taken his head off, and that would have killed him.

Manuel prowled the confines of his rooms, cursing the blue-eyed b.i.t.c.h and the pain in his head while he healed.

It was a good thing he had his rooms close. His human had been with him, watching with veiled jealousy while he searched for his little dancer. The tall, slim man had gotten him back to his rooms before sunrise, and eagerly ripped open yet another vein for him. Manuel had been tempted to drain him. He needed the blood, needed the energy to speed hi s healing. But the human may yet prove useful. After all, he had gotten him back here, fed him and protected him.

Which meant Manuel would live to find her.

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