I'll Be Slaying You(5)

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.

The gun clattered to the floor. Simon didn’t even glance at it. He wouldn’t need the weapon. The gun really would be too easy, and so not his style.

Simon grabbed the squirrelly bastard, wrapped his hand around Frankie’s throat, and pinned him up against the wall. Frankie’s fat legs dangled a good two feet off the ground.

“How the hell—”

Simon smiled.

Frankie started to shake.

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” Simon whispered, the scent of his own blood clogging his nostrils. “You had your chance.”

Now, it was his turn.





Chapter 2




“Ready for a new case?”

Dee glanced up when Jason Pak strolled into her office. The guy had on one of his fancy suits—always, the fancy suits—and he was smiling.

A smile from Pak was never a good thing.

Dee slowly eased her feet off the desk. “What kind of case?” She’d been thinking about taking a break. Maybe heading over to Biloxi and staying at one of the casinos and enjoying the beach.

He shut the door. No sound. Pak was good at not making any noise. He’d told her once that he’d learned to hunt and track with his Choctaw grandfather.

And that he’d learned to kill by trailing his Korean mother.