Dee stared up at the man before her. Darkness.
Black hair, hair much longer than her own. Sharp-edged, hard features. Cold, gray eyes, thin lips. Cheekbones that jutted too sharply.
And his body…his weight pinned her to the ground. His body was tight with muscle, heavy with strength.
He felt hot against her. His flesh so warm and—
Ah, fuck it.
Dee rammed up with her elbow, catching him hard and fast in the chin, sending his head snapping back as she scrambled beneath him, twisting, jerking, and punching.
“Stop it! Shit—I just saved your ass!” He clamped down harder on her, freezing her movements. “Woman, someone just tried to shoot you!”
And some big and thick asshole had tackled her.
But the crack she’d heard had registered in her mind now and the cry of pain—
If it hadn’t been hers, then it had been…
Damn. Her neck craned and she glanced back. The idiot lay on the ground, moaning. Not with passion anymore. Pain. Blood soaked his shirt and pooled around him.
The vamp was gone.
But was the shooter? Only one way to find out. “Get off,” she gritted.
His jaw clenched but he rolled to the side. “Your funeral, babe.”
She’d lost her stake. Whatever. She had plenty more in the car. Dee jerked her gun free of the holster. She scanned the buildings, the darkness.
It was at times like these when being a human was a real vulnerability for her. The shifter hunters who worked for Night Watch would never have been caught off guard like this. They would have caught the shooter’s scent on the wind, heard him creeping up for the shot.
Even the demons would have gotten more warning than she had.
But when you played with the big boys, you didn’t get to piss and moan about the extra senses you didn’t possess.
So she scanned every building. Every shadow. Then, staying as low and keeping as much cover as she could, she went to the idiot.
“Help me! I’m dying! You’ve got to—”
Her gaze darted over him. A lot of blood. Huh. And the vamp had run away from that? Who ran when the buffet was free?
“Help me! I can’t die like this, I can’t—”
“You’re not dying.” Jeez. She yanked out her phone, then pressed the button that would send an SOS to the surveillance team at Night Watch. “It’s a flesh wound, moron.” She’d sure had her share of them.
“Dispatch.” A soft, modulated voice flowed over the line.
“Need an ambulance.” She didn’t identify herself. Why bother? Stella would recognize her voice. “Four fifteen Brantley. Human down and—”
Sirens wailed in the night. Of damn course. The shot would have attracted attention.
Her fingers tightened around the phone. “Never mind.”
Hell.
Time for explanations.
Or, okay, lies.
“What do we say?”
The deep, rumbling voice came from the left. From Mr. Tall, Dark, and, yeah, Sexy, who’d tailed her over to the victim. She spared him a glance. “You can get out of here. I’ll handle the cops.” She’d had lots of experience with the Baton Rouge PD. Most of the uniforms owed her, anyway.
One black brow shot up. “It’s okay, you don’t have to thank me.” A grin flashed, one that showed a lot of strong, white teeth. “I was happy to save your life. Really. Think nothing of it. Yeah, I nearly got shot, but I’m okay. No need for concern.” His right hand lifted and gingerly rubbed his chin.
A patrol car rounded the corner, screeched to a stop, and Dee clenched her teeth. “Thank you,” she managed.
“Not very gracious, are you?” he murmured, and he knelt, his hands going toward the moaning guy’s wounds. “You should work on that.”
Her eyes slit. “I didn’t need saving.” Cops were approaching. She could see them from the corner of her eye. Their guns were up, their steps slow.
“Yeah, you did.”
She almost growled at him. Any minute now, the cops would be saying—
“Put your hands up! Nice and slow and—”
Ah, good. She recognized that voice. “Harry, we’ve got a gunshot vic here. He needs to be routed to Mercy General.”
“Dee?” Not real surprise. More like horror.
“Yeah. Be careful, the shooter could still be around.”
Harry and his partner immediately crouched. Harry jerked out his radio and barked some commands.
“Why am I not surprised that the cops know you?” Dark and Sexy murmured.
She spared him a withering glance. Then she leaned in close to the victim and whispered, “If you want to stay out of the psych ward, don’t say a word about the vampire.”
He blinked once, then gave a quick, jerky nod.
Good. Because the cops on scene didn’t understand the paranormal score in this town, and if the vic started rambling about Dee trying to take down an undead bloodsucker, things could get tricky.
She eased back into her crouch. So much for an easy bag. The guys at Night Watch would be giving her hell about this one for days.
And who’d been out there with the gun? Why had the shooter been aiming for her?
She’d find out. As soon as damn possible.
Because no one took a free shot at her and got away. No one.
Sandra “Dee” Daniels was small, grubby, and she really, really shouldn’t have been attractive.
Her blond hair barely skimmed her chin and it looked like the woman had taken scissors to it herself—leaving the hair in short, twisted layers. Her nose was a little off center, her bottom lip a little too big, her chin a little too pointed.
No, she shouldn’t have been attractive.
The jeans she wore were ripped and faded. Her white T-shirt clung too tightly to her small breasts, and her black boots were scuffed pretty much to hell and back.
But—
But she was damn sexy. Maybe it was the eyes. So big and dark. Chocolate. Once upon a time, he’d loved the stuff.
And that mouth. The lips were lush, soft, so red. Okay, so maybe he liked her mouth.
A lot.
She had her hands balled into fists on her hips. Cops were everywhere, running like ants as they searched the scene. He’d already been questioned three times, and both he and Dee had been given the all clear to leave.
But the woman wasn’t moving, and if she wasn’t moving, neither was he.
After five minutes of silence from her, she finally deigned to glance his way. “Harry said you could leave, buddy.”
“Simon. Simon Chase.” She knew his name. She’d been right there when he spelled it for the uniforms. Each time.
She grunted.
He almost smiled. Almost. “Ah, I can’t help but notice, Sandra—”
“Dee.” Her voice snapped like a whip.
He’d been there when she had to spell her name, too. He’d rather enjoyed her gruff, “Harry, you know this shit, S-A-ND-R-A…oh, fuck off.”
“Dee,” he allowed. But he’d be calling her Sandra again soon. He liked that. Liked the way her cheeks flushed so red when she heard the name. “You don’t seem too upset that someone tried to kill you tonight.”
The victim had been hauled away in an ambulance. Blood still soaked the ground, but Simon didn’t glance at it. His nostrils twitched, just a bit, but the scent was starting to fade.
She rolled her shoulders in a little shrug. “Not like it’s the first time.”
He let his eyes widen. “Really.”
A grunt from her. She seemed to like that sound.
“And you have no idea why folks want you dead?”
A furrow peaked between her golden brows. “No clue.”
Right.
Her hands lifted, then fell in a vague little gesture. “Well, it’s been fun, Chase, but I’ve got work to do.”
He pulled the wooden stake from his back pocket. “Just what kind of work is it that you do, Sandra?”
/> Red flush. She lunged for him and locked her fingers around the stake, but he didn’t let go. She was close now, close enough that he could see light flecks of gold in her dark gaze. Close enough that he could see the pulse pounding at the base of her throat. Close enough that he could almost taste those lips.
He tightened his hold on the stake. The wood was smooth and hard. The woman had obviously spent some time honing her weapon.
“Give it to me.” She glanced back over her shoulder. “I don’t want to have to explain this shit to all of them right now, not with the last silver shooting still hanging over me.”
Silver shooting? Sounded like an interesting story.
Slowly, he released his hold and she jerked the weapon from him. Kneeling, she shoved the weapon into some kind of custom holster near her ankle.
When she lifted the ragged hem of her jeans, he caught sight of her leg. Nice. Smooth and pale and—
She shot back up, nearly clipping him in the chin. Again.
Simon shook his head. She was so not what he’d been expecting. “You didn’t answer me,” he said and tried to ignore her scent. A heady scent, rich and dark. A woman’s sensual flavor.
She licked her lips. A quick swipe of her tongue that had his cock jerking.
Definitely not what he’d been expecting, but he wasn’t going to complain. No way.
“Trust me on this, you don’t want to know.” She shuffled back a few steps and tossed him a careless smile. “Thanks for watching my ass tonight, Chase.”
Then she was gone. Turning away and marching through the cops still on scene, and he kept watching that ass. Nice and firm, round enough to hold tight.
Yeah, he kept watching that ass, right until the moment she disappeared around the corner.
He waited a beat. Two.
Then he stalked after her because he wasn’t about to let his prey escape that quickly. There’d be no fun in such an easy exit.
He followed her, giving brief, polite nods to the cops as he made his way past their vehicles.
It only took a moment to realize that Dee wasn’t headed back to the main street. His eyes tracked her. No, the woman wasn’t retreating to the safety of her car. She was snaking through the back alleys, going even deeper into the underbelly of the city.
And she wasn’t even glancing back.
Because she was hunting, too.
What the hell? The woman had almost been shot, shouldn’t she be hesitating a bit? His hands fisted as he followed her. The night closed around him, her, and they both hunted.
The minutes ticked past. Another tight corner. Another alley. He kept her in his sights. His nostrils stung because these streets reeked. Garbage. Shit. Who knew what the hell he was stepping in as he trailed her?
The woman had better be worth this effort. She’d better—
He rounded another turn, one that led him between two thick buildings.
Dee had vanished.
He froze and stared straight ahead.
A soft footfall sounded behind him. Could have been a whisper, could have been—
Simon spun around and came face to face with Dee. She was armed, not with a stake this time, but with her gun, and the lady had it pointed dead center between his eyes.
He probably should have acted scared. Should have mumbled some kind of half-assed apology for following her.
Instead, he just stared at her.
“There a particular reason why you’re tailing me?”
The gun didn’t waver. Those sexy-as-sin lips pressed into a thick line.
“Yeah.” He allowed himself a glance down her body. He’d have to be careful with her. He kept forgetting how small and fragile she was.
Maybe because of the gun. Maybe that was making him forgetful.
She acted tough. But that body—soft curves and sweet, tender flesh.
“Eyes up, asshole.”
Apparently the lady didn’t like him ogling her breasts. Fair enough. “You left before I could get your number.”
Her jaw dropped. “What?”
He shrugged. “Your number. I mean, I saved your life. Shouldn’t I at least be able to get your number for that?”
She growled and finally lowered the gun. “Look, buddy—”
“Simon Chase.”
“Whatever. I don’t have time for this shit. I’m not going to screw you because you shoved me into the pavement. And, just so you know, I didn’t need you to save me. Not like it’s my first ball game, okay?”
I’m not going to screw you. Hmmm. “Don’t remember asking for a screw.” Though he wouldn’t refuse one with her. “Just your number.”
She barred her teeth. Pretty teeth. White and straight. Not too sharp, though, but then, she was human.
His tongue scraped across his own teeth. A bit sharper than hers.
“I’m working now, I don’t have time for this—”
“Yeah, you never did answer my question.” Simon cocked his head to the side. “Just what kind of work do you do?”
She holstered the gun. “The kind you wouldn’t understand.”
Doubtful. “Let’s see…you had a wooden stake and you were about ten feet away from a vampire the first time I saw you.” He paused. “I’d say that makes you a hunter.”
Her gaze raked over him. “So what? You know about vampires? Good for you.”
“Oh, I know about vampires.” Too much about them. “I also know about the demons and the charmers and the shifters that are running this city.” He even knew her boss, Jason Pak. Pak was the Night Watch Agency. He’d started the bounty hunting business almost twenty years ago, and Dee was one of his top hunters.
But she didn’t need to know that he’d already researched her.
His hands were loose at his sides now. “I know all about the Other.” The humidity from the hot July night had his shirt sticking against his flesh. “And I stopped being afraid of the monsters in the dark one hell of a long time ago.”
Her lips parted.
“Fucking hunter.” A snarl, high-pitched with fury.
Shit.
Simon’s stare shot over Dee’s shoulder. The vamp was there, blood dripping down her arm, her fangs bared and her eyes glazed black.
“I’m going to rip your throat open and drain you dry, bitch, I’m going to—”
Dee shifted her stance slightly. Simon’s gaze jerked back to her. “Sure you’re not afraid?” She whispered.
He gave a curt nod.
“I’ll slice your lover open! He’ll beg for death. He’ll—”
Dee spun around. The stake was in her hand. Wow—he hadn’t even seen her grab it and now the wood was in her hand, no—it was in the air. Flying end over end in a deadly arc.
Then sinking into the vampire’s chest.
The vamp gave a muffled scream and dropped to her knees.
“I wanted to take you in alive,” Dee murmured. “But you just couldn’t make this night easy, could you?”
The black faded from the vampire’s eyes.
Dee squared her shoulders and stalked toward the vamp. “And he’s not my lover.”
“Not yet,” Simon said and realized that he was impressed.
Sandra Dee had taken down her prey. She hadn’t let him distract her. She hadn’t given up and faded away when the cops appeared.
And when given a chance for the kill, she hadn’t hesitated.
Interesting.
Finally, exactly what he’d expected.
A team from Night Watch came to clear the alley. The vamp’s body was taken away, hell if he knew where. But, then, he didn’t really care.
Tonight’s exercise had been very fruitful. In all, Simon was pleased with the progress that had been made.
Of course, if he’d gotten Dee’s number, he would have been more pleased.
Next time.
Simon stepped into the shadows and rapped against the black door that waited in the darkness. It opened instantly and he crossed the threshold, already pulling out his
money.
The man inside was small, squat, and he had his gun cradled in his hand. Greasy black hair was slicked back from his forehead and his beady eyes gleamed when he caught sight of the cash in Simon’s hand.
The guy reached for the bills—
Simon snatched his fingers back. “You hurt the human.”
Sweat trickled down the man’s cheek. It was hot as fuck in there. But, hell, it was summer in Baton Rouge, it was hot as fuck everywhere. “D-didn’t mean to, when you took the woman down, the bullet clipped him—”
Clipped him, hadn’t killed him, and that was why the shooter was still alive. “I want you out of town, tonight.” Simon kept the money out of the guy’s reach. “If I ever see you again, you’re dead.”
A gulp.
Simon leaned in close, close enough for the shooter to see the intent in his eyes. “And it won’t be an easy death.” Those he delivered rarely were. “Do you understand?”
The man managed a quick nod.
Simon tossed the money to him. The bastard had done his job. He’d taken the shot at Dee. Given Simon the perfect opportunity that he’d needed.
The human’s injury just hadn’t been part of the plan.
Simon turned away from him and headed for the door. There was more work to do. Always more.
The bullet slammed into his back, a hard punch of fire that burned through skin and muscle, and tore right through the bone.
He hit the floor hard, his face slamming down and the blood pouring from his body. Dammit.
Should have seen that one coming. You just couldn’t trust killers these days.
He heard the creak of footsteps and caught the whisper of excited breath. “N-nobody threatens Frankie Lee.” Another shot. This one fired into the back of his right leg.
Simon didn’t cry out. He locked his jaw and battled the pain.
“You’re the one who won’t get an easy death, asshole.” Another shot. Left thigh this time.
Sonofabitch.
Frankie grabbed the back of Simon’s head and wrenched his face up. The gun barrel stared back at Simon and the scent of burning metal filled his nostrils. “Nobody threatens—”
Simon lunged off the floor. One jerk of his hand and he broke Frankie’s wrist.
“Fuck!” Frankie’s face bleached of color.