Part 7 (1/2)

”W-what are you?” the camera guy mumbled.

”I already told you.” I s.h.i.+fted 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-s.h.i.+rt.

”Take your time. The second s.h.i.+ft 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.

Chapter Eight.

”Are you sure this is the right place?”

”You said Was.h.i.+ngton Street, lady. This is Was.h.i.+ngton Street.”

I stared at the worn numbers printed next to the large steel door that led to what had once been a ma.s.sive 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-s.h.i.+t-o-meter.

See, Ty is a major babe. Good looking. s.e.xy. Tasty. Whenever I'm around him, I tend to let my desperate need for a few fantastic o.r.g.a.s.ms do my thinking for me. Not a good thing since I've given up meaningless s.e.x 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 s.e.x 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-gotta-be-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, s.e.x-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 Previous Top NextMiele over on West Fourteenth. We're talking chic.