Midnight Hunter Book One in the Midnight Hunter Trilogy

Donna was a half hour late picking up Mo, and Mo insisted Donna was purposely dragging her ass because she didn't really want to go to The Dark Side at all. Donna decided Mo was probably right about that, but she didn't admit it out loud to Mo.

  The Dark Side was so busy that Donna had to park her Mustang several blocks away.

  “Oh no,” she moaned.

  Mo clapped her hands. “Ooooooooh yes!”

  “This is terrible. What if somebody messes with my car?”

  “Stop being such a boring old lady,” Mo scrunched her hair and made a pouty face.

  Donna bit on her pinkie nail. “Look at all these cars. There must be a million people in that stupid club. Do we really want to deal with all of them?”

  “Of course we do, and only you would even question it.” Mo flipped down the visor mirror and made smooching faces at herself. “Donna, you're too uptight for your own damned good. I've been telling you for years that you need to live closer to the edge. Now here you are on the verge of twenty-one, with a new car and an entire club full of guys, some of which might even be your age. I say, it's now or never.”

  The thought of checking a guy's ID before asking his name made Donna feel queasy, but Mo was right. She needed to at least meet some guys. All through high school she'd had only one boyfriend, if you could call Justin that. They went to the movies a few times and he once took off her bra in his Dodge truck. Then last year Rochelle had introduced Donna to Matt, and he'd liked her just fine until she'd made him stop after their clothes were off. After that, he’d called her “Virgin Donna” and left in a huff. It was embarrassing to think she'd get in a bar before she'd ever get in bed with a guy, but that's certainly how it was turning out. Mo claimed no college girl had any right to be a virgin on her graduation day, and Donna knew she was right, but still…

  I was watching boys instead of taking care of my brother.

  Mo said one had nothing to do with the other, and that certainly by now, almost a decade later, the universe wouldn’t still be punishing Donna for paying too much attention to the opposite sex. But Mo had been an only child her whole life. How could she ever understand?

  A familiar blue Toyota slowly passed behind the Mustang.

  “Mo!” Donna hollered.

  “Geez, don't yell,” Mo yelled. “You damn near made me poke myself in the eye with my mascara brush.”

  “Sorry, but it's that blue car again. It just drove by. Slow.” Mo hopped out of the Mustang and scanned the street.

  “All I see is a goldish truck and a yellow PT Cruiser. Oooo, and a guy on a motorcycle that just went that way.” She pointed toward the sound of a motorcycle engine. “No blue car. You must be seeing things.”

  “Why is it that when you see things I'm supposed to believe you but when I see things, you scoff it off?”

  “I'm not scoffing it off,” Mo shrugged. “I just didn't see a blue car.”

  “So that automatically means I didn't, either.”

  “You don't have to get huffy about it,” Mo snapped. “It's just getting too dark to see.” She sat back down, squinted at the mirror. “Does my face look all right?”

  Donna smiled. “You look great.”

  Mo grinned. “You look great, too. Well,” she reached deep inside the peace sign bag and shuffled around until she found a brush.  She fluffed and sprayed Donna’s hair and said "Now you look great, too.” Donna coughed at the hair spray smell. Mo grinned then bolted from the Mustang, slamming the door shut behind her. They were only steps away from the car when Rochelle skipped up, calling Donna's name and squealing with delight.

  “Oh great,” Mo rolled her eyes. “Your old roommate. Isn't she too old for this place?”

  Donna crossed her arms and glowered at Mo. “Aren't we?”

  Rochelle looked gorgeous, even for Rochelle. Her hair, blonder than Donna's by about 12 shades, was coiled in a French twist. She wore a gold sequined dress that would light up the darkest room and a smile that was framed in by sparkling, ruby lips. Icing on the cake.

  “I never expected to see you here tonight,” she exclaimed. “How are you doing? How's life back at home? Did you find a job yet?” She gave Donna a wide hug that smelled like the same perfume her mother had been wearing that morning.

  Mo glowered at Rochelle. “Damn, where are my sunglasses? That outfit is bright.”

  Rochelle smirked. “As opposed to the one you're wearing?”

  “I'm a bold statement.”

  “You're a walking billboard for tacky.” Rochelle looked at Mo with contempt. Then she noticed the Mustang.

  “New car, huh? When are you going to take me for a ride?”

  Mo snickered. “I was under the impression that you gave rides, not took them.”

  “And word around campus is you couldn't give a ride if the words 'free taxi' were sprawled across your butt cheeks,” Rochelle snapped back.

  Donna cleared her throat. “How are we going to even get in that stupid club? I saw the line when we drove past. It's halfway around the block.”

  “Leave that to me,” Rochelle winked. “I know the bouncer.”

  “I'm sure you do,” Mo mumbled. Donna nudged her.

  “Just follow me.” Rochelle sauntered around parked cars then through the crowd, her dress shimmering like a golden Christmas tree. Mo and Donna followed, Donna trying not to attract attention.

  We’re just a couple of ugly ducklings behind a fabulous swan.

  At the front door, Rochelle whispered something in the bouncer's ear. He gave Rochelle a gap-toothed smile and let the three of them through.

  “That was easy,” Donna said.

  “Easy as Rochelle,” Mo sneered. Donna jabbed her in the ribs.

  “Well,” Rochelle smiled at Donna and curled her lip at Mo. “You guys have fun.” She turned away and faded in with the mass of people on the dance floor.

  “At least her reputation was good for getting us in here,” Mo yelled.

  Donna rubbed her ear. “You don't have to yell. Your voice carries for miles.” Mo must have not heard that because her next comment was just as loud.

  “I see somebody from work I need to talk with.”

  Donna waved her off. “You know me, I'll find a seat in the back.”

  Mo rolled her eyes. “Fine. I'll find you no matter where you hide. And Donna?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Be careful.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  But Mo had already filtered in with the crowd, and because so many of the people in it had weird hair too, she filtered in well. Donna wandered to the bleak, back area where she liked to sit. It was generally known as the “make-out corner”, though it wasn't that way for her. It was nice and quiet, which explained why Mo preferred to avoid it. Donna found a table in the darkest corner and within seconds, a chill wrapped around her.

  Somebody’s watching me.

  Donna scanned the shadows. Nobody was paying the least attention to her, except for a young couple who'd come in right after her. She'd apparently taken their make-out spot.

  “Sorry,” Donna shrugged.

  The girl made a snarly face and then the couple left, but the feeling of somebody watching didn't go with them.

  It feels like eyes are boring into the back of my head.

  She shuddered and turned around.

  Nobody’s there.

  A minute passed, and then a skinny waitress, wearing black and red striped leggings and looking just like a Gothic fairy, trotted up to Donna and smiled.

  “What ya havin'?” she asked between bubble-gum chomps.

  “Just an iced tea.”

  “Okay.” She rolled her eyes and tried to skip away but Donna stopped her.

  “I know this sounds weird,” Donna said, “but can you tell me if somebody's watching me from behind?” The waitress popped a bubble. Her eyes widened and her gaze darted above Donna's head. She frowned.

  “Nope, nobody but a brick wall is back there is watchin
' ya. But the guy over there,” she tilted her head to the left, “seems to not be able to keep his eyes off ya. He's been lookin' at ya since ya sat down.” She chomped cheerfully. “Do ya wanna buy him a drink?” Donna surveyed the dark corners and only saw a blonde girl in pink pants making out with a tall, blue-haired guy.

  “I don't see a guy looking at me.”

  The gum-chomping waitress turned, her black hair shimmering purple against the black lights. “He's right - well, sonofabitch, he's gone.” She placed her hands on her hips and rolled her eyes again. “Too bad, he was barely contained - like lightnin' in a jar.”

  “What did he look like?”

  “Like a Greek god who ditched his chariot, grabbed a crotch rocket and crash-landed his sexy ass in a 21st century Goth club.” She snapped her red bra strap and chomped her gum some more. “Seriously, he was somethin’. Tall, dark, and handsome. If ya like that type, which I obviously do. How 'bout ya?” She stared pointedly at Donna with big, dark eyes. “Maybe tall, dark, and handsome Greek gods aren't yer type. Okay, then, are ya into blonds?” Her eyes opened wide. “Or maybe yer not into guys at all. Then ya might like my cousin, Amie.”

  Donna smiled politely. “I'll just take the iced tea, thanks.”

  The waitress shrugged. “Whatever blows yer skirt up.” Then she trotted off.

  The blue-haired guy and his date filtered back toward the dance floor. Once they left, a heavy cloud descended on Donna from behind. Her heart thundered. She jumped from the chair and took a step forward. Before she could take another, a tall, dark shadow approached from the front and blocked her path. The skinny waitress had been right. His jaw line was chiseled just like the statue of every Greek god Donna had ever seen. In addition to that, his pale skin was offset by ebony hair and eyes to match. There was a scent surrounding him, too. Spice? Everything about him was lonesome and brooding, just like everybody else in The Dark Side. But even so, he seemed out of place. Probably because he looked old enough to buy a real drink, but here he was anyway.

  “Go home.” He broke the silence like lightning.

  What succulent lips…

  Donna bit her fingernails to keep from clamping her face to his, which, for some reason, she had the inexplicable desire to do.

  “Did you hear me?” His eyes were black diamonds and familiar. “Are you listening to me?” His nostrils flared.

  What perfect nostrils...

  “I'm quickly losing what little patience I was born with.”

  “You were born with more patience than manners,” Donna finally said.

  He raised a perfectly shaped eyebrow. “I don't care much for your sarcasm.”

  “I don't care much for your arrogance.” She chewed harder on her fingernails.

  “My arrogance could be the only reason you're not dead right now.”

  “Well, that's an arrogant thing to say.”

  “It's a true one, too. Go home.” He stepped away and melted into the shadows. His piercing black eyes were the last thing about him to disappear.

  Donna yelled at the darkness. “I'll go home if you'll stop having that guy follow us.”

  He whispered in her ear, from behind. “Who's following you?”

  Donna whirled around. “How in the hell did you get behind me?”

  His breath touched her shoulder. It made her tingle. “Tell me who's following you.”

  “Your creepy friend in the blue car.”

  He exhaled sharply. “I don't have any friends like that.”

  “With your attitude, I'm surprised you have any friends at all.”

  He snarled, and looked utterly gorgeous doing it. “I said go home. Do it now.” He evaporated into the darkness again. Perspiration trickled down the back of Donna’s neck. She hurried toward the dance floor, scanning the room for Mo. She found her tucked in a humid corner at a tiny table, talking with an attractive, brown-haired guy. Donna stepped up and stood there, but neither of them noticed her until she drummed her fingers on the table.

  “Oh, hi Donna,” Mo smiled casually.

  “Yes, it's me,” Donna shouted through the music noise. “Your friend, who you said you'd find no matter where I hid, but instead, I see you've decided not to bother even looking.”

  “Sorry,” Mo shrugged, but she looked a little guilty doing it. “I got sidetracked.” She indicated toward the guy. “This is James.”

  “Hi Donna,” James yelled.

  “Hello,” Donna yelled back.

  Mo smiled at James. “I'll call you tomorrow.”

  James got up. “Okay then.” He looked at Donna again, this time with caution. “And it was nice to meet you.” He strolled away, looking behind him twice to wave at Mo, who grinned and waved back.

  Once he was out of view, Donna cleared her throat.

  “I'm officially pissed,” she said.

  “What the hell for?” Mo frowned and it made her forehead pucker.

  “First, we come to this stupid club that you know I hate, and you immediately ditch me. Second, I've been bored and alone in the corner while you've been over here chatting away with a cute guy. Third, I was just verbally assaulted by some stalker guy. And fourth -”

  Mo's eyes went wide. “Oh no, Donna! Are you okay?”

  “Of course I'm okay. He was just an asshole.” With succulent lips and the body of a god...

  Mo bit her bottom lip. “You should sit down.”

  Donna clenched her jaw. “Why does everybody here keep telling me what to do?”

  “I think you'll want to sit down for this. Really, Donna.” Mo indicated toward the chair. “Please.”

  “Fine,” she landed hard in the seat, which was still warm from James. Mo waved to the gum-chomping waitress, who trotted to their table.

  “Oh, there ya are!” The waitress smiled at Donna. “I took yer drink back to the bar when I couldn't find ya.” She motioned toward Mo. “Found one, huh? Good for ya!” She winked then took Mo's order and left.

  Mo pointed at the waitress and threw Donna puzzled look. “What was that about?”

  Donna shrugged. “She thinks you and I are a couple.”

  “Ew,” Mo squished up her nose.

  “Thanks. I find you repulsive, too. Now, tell me what I sat down for or I'll get back up and go away.”

  “I'm warning you, Donna. You aren't going to like this.”

  “I already don't like it.” She crossed her arms.

  “Remember the missing girls?”

  Donna slumped in her seat. “So we're back to that again?”

  “Just listen. It turns out they've all gone missing from this club. James just told me another girl has gone missing. That's why I wanted to come here tonight. I thought we could nose around, talk to a few people, see if anybody knows anything.”

  “Are you telling me that you knew tall blondes were being taken from here?” Donna's throat felt tight.

  Mo nodded. “I need you to tell me everything that guy said to you. He might be the one.”

  “The one?”

  Mo rolled her eyes. “The kidnapper, Donna. Get up to speed here.”

  “You knowingly left me alone to be kidnapped?” Donna's face burned. “Of all the stupid things-”

  Mo groaned. “I figured you'd react like this.”

  “How else would you expect me to react?”

  The spunky little waitress pranced back to their table. “Uh-oh,” she said in a lilting tone. “It looks like I walked in on a lover's quarrel.” She rolled her eyes and then tossed napkins and drinks on the table like they were pixie dust and magic potions. Then she stood there beaming, with her hand extended. Mo frowned, paid, and rolled her eyes as the waitress flounced away.

  “That's one annoying waitress,” she said.

  “That's an ironic thing for you to say,” Donna grinned despite her mood.

  “What is?” Mo sipped her soda and complained that it would be better with rum.

  “Never mind. What exactly are the police doing abou
t these kidnappings?”

  “The police have been doing exactly nothing. I told you that. Weren't you listening?”

  “So, I've just been engaged in an unfriendly chat with the most probable suspect,” Donna's tone hinted at her irritation. “And he likes my type. But he apparently does not like me because instead of kidnapping me, he warned me. For once, being utterly undesirable has a plus side.”

  “Well, there you go.” Mo burped. “Not that you're undesirable, but you do walk around with a don't-approach-me attitude.”

  Donna didn't really hear her, because another thought had come to her. “If he likes tall blondes, he's going to love Rochelle.”

  “He takes them when they're alone, such as in dark corners with nobody fawning over them. Have you ever seen little Miss Center-Of-Attention in that condition?”

  “No,” Donna admitted. “Still, we should tell her about this.”

  “No we shouldn't.” Mo slurped the rest of her soda, scooping the straw against the bottom. She picked up the empty glass, examined the ice cubes and snorted. “I cannot believe that little twit charged me $4.95 plus tax for four ounces of soda and twelve ounces of frozen water.” She turned to Donna. “I shouldn't have even told you about the missing blondes, but I'm confident you can keep a secret.”

  “Why would anybody want this story to be a secret? If blonde girls are going missing, then the public needs to know.”

  “The last person who tried to make it public was Lance Barrington.” Mo burped.

  “Who's Lance Barrington?”

  Mo’s eyes rolled. “The deputy sheriff. You really should pay more attention to your local government, Donna. Anyhow, Lance was going to make an announcement in our newspaper, but now he's disappeared. His wife said he never came home from work the other night.”

  “So it's not just blonde females going missing.”

  Mo shrugged. “Well, it mostly is.”

  Blood drained from Donna's face when she considered it. “What is the kidnapper doing with his victims?”

  “Who knows,” Mo shook her empty glass at the Gothic-fairy waitress who trotted right past without looking in their direction. “That twit's not getting a tip. Anyway, there are no ransom notes, no clues, nothing. Just disappearing blondes that the cops do nothing about.” On the dance floor, people twirled, laughed, and kissed. Some of them were blonde girls.

  Donna looked hard at Mo. “Why didn't you tell me about the kidnapper being here?”

  “If I would've told you, would you have come tonight?”

  “Of course not.”

  “And there you go.” Mo tossed her hands in the air. “I'm not a tall blonde. How could I flush out the kidnapper without you?”

  Donna's temples throbbed. She wanted to be home enjoying a relaxing evening, in which the most intriguing aspect would be a burned-out light bulb. Instead, here she was discussing mysterious kidnappers who hid in dark corners.

  “I figured if I brought you here,” Mo coughed when an ice chunk went down the wrong pipe, “you being the way you are, maybe, we could flush him out.”

  “Flush him out?”

  “Well, you know. You are his type, and you do like to sit all alone.”

  “You were using me as bait?” Donna pushed back the chair and got up. “That's the reason you wanted to come here tonight? I can't believe you would do something so idiotic, Melissa Marie Bently.”

  Mo cringed at the use of her full name. She grabbed Donna's wrist, making Donna wince. Mo didn't notice. “Please, just let me explain. I figured you'd go find a quiet place to hide from everybody. That's how you are, you know that. You avoid people like the plague-”

  “This explanation is supposed to make me feel better?”

  “I thought that maybe the kidnapper would approach you and we'd catch him, and then you'd be a hero.” Mo grinned wide.

  “Or a missing blonde. Tell me something, Mo. Exactly how were you planning to keep the kidnapper here while you waited for the police?” The look on Mo's face told Donna Mo hadn't thought about that part of it.

  “I promise,” she stammered. “You were never going to get hurt.”

  “A little late for promises, don't you think?”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Mo said defensively.

  “It means that when I found you, it looked like you couldn't have cared less about anything except whatever that guy was saying. I could've been kidnapped and you wouldn't even have noticed until you needed a ride home and I was nowhere to be found.”

  Mo had only cried once in all the time Donna had known her. That was when she was eight years old and had jumped her bike off the roof of her house, with the intention of landing in the neighbor's swimming pool. Instead, she'd landed in the shrubs by the neighbor's dog kennel. Twelve stitches and a fractured ankle later, Mo finally cried when Jill took her bike away. But this was even bigger than plunging a bicycle off the roof, and Mo knew it. Her eyes watered over, and then the tearful cascade began.

  “I'm sorry.” She said it so quietly that Donna wondered if she'd misheard her. “All I wanted was to get the big story. Then maybe I would've made a name for myself - maybe gotten a job offer somewhere away from this stupid town. I never meant for you to get hurt.” She muttered something about her behavior being irresponsible and Donna couldn't argue with that, but she also couldn't stand to see her best friend cry. She placed a hand on Mo's forearm.

  “You may have done some stupid things in your life, but you've always been a friend to me and I know you weren't trying to get me hurt. You just weren't thinking.” Donna paused then added, “I forgive you.”

  Mo sniffed, brushed away tears. “I really am so sorry.”

  “I know you are.”

  “Thanks for understanding, Donna.”

  “What I understand is that you often fail to consider long-range consequences.”

  “I know. I'm working on it.” Mo sniffed.

  “I know you are,” Donna encouraged.

  Mo’s tone lifted. “Now do you want to know what Jamie and I were discussing?”

  “Jamie?”

  Mo's eyes rolled. “The guy I was talking to.”

  “You mean James?”

  Mo nodded impatiently. Yes, James. Now listen. He agreed to meet me here tomorrow night.” Mo looked fiercely at Donna. “I don't suppose you'd like to help us?”

  “Help you how?” But the minute she said it, she knew. Donna shook her head feverishly. “Oh no you don't.”

  “Donna, just hear me out.”

  “No, you hear me out.” Donna's voice trembled. “What happened to not wanting to see me get hurt?”

  “I promise this time we'll be better prepared. I won't take my eyes off you for even a second. I promise nothing will happen to you.” Mo stopped speaking. Donna's head filled with the sounds of thudding bass from the dance floor, and she knew what was coming next. “Donna Anne McCormick. Don't you want to see this guy get caught?”

  “No fair bringing my middle name in to this.”

  “You did it first.”

  “Only because you're wrong.”

  “I'm wrong? Oh, really?” Mo's eyes grew extra wide like they always did when she thought she was right. “May I ask what's so wrong about trying to catch a guy who's stealing innocent blondes?”

  “If you want to pretend you're a crime-stopping, TV drama, investigative-journalist, that's fine by me, but I'm not going to become the victim of some deranged kidnapper who even the cops refuse to come out and play with.” Donna turned to leave. Mo grabbed her wrist again.

  “Please, just think about it,” she implored.

  Donna shook her off, painfully. “Let the police handle it. It's their job.”

  “They're a pack of idiots.” Mo caught her breath, looked pleadingly at Donna. “I need you. Our town needs you.”

  Donna turned away. She didn't want any part of this. She just wanted everything to go back to normal. Exactly how it was before girls got kidnapped an
d best friends decided to hunt down the perpetrator. Her gaze panned the back room. The Greek god was nowhere in sight. Had he already left? Or was he watching her from another part of the club? Donna carefully eyed every available space for a tall, dark, handsome, mysterious man.

  I know he’s still in here…I can feel it.

  She whirled back around and stared at Mo whose hopeful eyes were wide and focused.

  “I'll do it,” Donna said.

  “You will?” Mo leaped up and clapped her hands.

  “I will.” Donna felt as surprised as Mo looked, but the fact was, Donna wanted to prove to herself that the mysterious guy with the good looks and bad attitude wasn't attracted to her. It seemed a stupid thing to do, but Mo had said it best just a little while ago. “It's now or never.”

  Well, there you go.

  Mo grinned. “I'll come up with a brilliant plan, you just wait and see.”

  “Great.” Donna tapped her fingers on the table to keep from sticking them in her mouth. “But just for the record, I don't think he's the kidnapper.”

  “Who?”

  “The...” Donna searched for the right word to describe him. “The rude guy.”

  Mo belched. “Maybe the rude guy just isn't in a kidnapping mood tonight.”

  “Or maybe he just isn't in a mood to kidnap me.”

  “Cheer up, best friend,” Mo flashed her perfect teeth. “He might be in a better mood tomorrow night.”

  Donna put on a sarcastic smile. “Wonderful. I want to go home now.”

  Mo's features practically melted. “We barely got here.”

  “I've hated it here ever since high school.”

  “You never told me that.”

  Donna scoffed. “I tell you that every time we come here.”

  “If you say so.” Mo shrugged. Then she gestured excitedly. “Just think of the headlines, Donna. 'College Cuties Outwit Cops and Criminals.'”

  “Or how about this one? 'Dumb Blonde's Body Found after Agreeing to Best Friend's Preposterous Plan.'”

  Mo planted her hands on her hips and glared impatiently at her friend. “This is why I'm going to be a high-paid journalist and you aren't. Your headlines suck.”

  chapter four