Would you look at that… karma. The prick’s having a heart attack.
I smile down at him, wanting nothing more than to press the heel of my boot into his aching chest. Instead, I run my fingers through my hair, put my pants back on, fix my top, and wink down at him. “Thanks for the fuck, Tommy.”
He’s in too much pain to respond. He grimaces up at me, then grabs at the air, trying desperately to get me to help him.
As if I’d help a douchebag like him.
He’s only a feeble, Alexis.
Rolling my eyes, I move toward the bathroom’s exit and force my smile off my face.
If there’s one thing I’m good at aside from sex, it’s acting.
I unlock the door, swing it open, and run out into the crowd. “Help, someone! He’s having a heart attack!”
Chapter 7
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By the time the police and paramedic lights come flashing down Second Street, I’m walking with my head held high, my aviator sunglasses on, and a smug smile on my face.
God, I feel refreshed.
Nothing like an afternoon fuck to pump me up.
I hop up the stairs of Jamieson’s Palace, one of the fanciest hotels in the city. It’s also the hotel Jamieson owns. The moment I walk inside, Miguel, the hotel’s youngest concierge, beams at me as I make my way to the elevators. They’re made entirely of glass, so when I turn around, I catch him checking out my ass.
He looks away, his cheeks growing pink, and he goes off to help an old lady bring her luggage inside.
“Alexis,” Jamieson says the moment I enter his office.
He waves to his security guards, signaling them to leave the room, then stands and stretches his arms out. “So lovely to see you.”
Today, he’s clad in a blue suit with shiny brown shoes that look like they’ve been scrubbed about a hundred times by house elves. Not only does Jamieson have an attractive British accent, but he’s also charming in every sense of the word. It’s no wonder all the ladies want him.
All the ladies but me.
He offers a slight bow, his salt and pepper hair pointing my way, and rubs the stubble on his face. “Are you all right?”
I plop myself down into the oversized leather chair across from his deck and kick my feet up. “I’m good. What’s up?”
He clears his throat. “I believe this conversation may be better entertained in my private room.”
I nod, allowing my sunglasses to slide down my nose. “Private room? Jamieson, I already told you. You aren’t my type.”
He smiles, revealing overly white and perfectly aligned teeth. “Come.”
“Buy me dinner first,” I say.
Shaking his head, he leads me to the back of his office and through a thick, mahogany door. The space looks more like a lounge room. A red leather sofa sits invitingly against a black wall, reminding me of my therapist’s office, and in front of it is an oval glass coffee table. At the other end of the room stands a humongous fridge and a few feet away from it, a gigantic television.
Is this where he lets loose?
“I’ve never brought you here,” he says, “but believe me… you want to see this.”
I’m about to say, No shit… If you had, I’d come over more often, but I follow quietly.
Where the hell is he taking me? He reaches behind his television and pulls back on something—assumedly a lever. Out of nowhere, part of the wall next to his fridge sinks in and disappears altogether, revealing an opening the size of a doorframe.
He smirks back at me. “Come.”
I’m too intrigued to bother retorting with a sexual joke.
The moment we step inside, bright lights flash overhead, illuminating the entire room. It’s filled with computer monitors, machine guns, and a rack of weapons.
My jaw hangs loose as I gaze around. “Is this where you work?”
He nods.
I walk up to the weapons rack and brush my fingers along the crossbows, the axes, and a brown-handled sword that looks sharp enough to cut someone without even touching them.
“Why are you only showing me this now?” I ask.
While I’m thrilled to be seeing such a cool place, I’m a little annoyed that he didn’t show me sooner. I could have used some of these weapons.
“How long have we known each other, Alexis?”
I shrug. “Couple years.”
“You’ve completed sixty-two jobs for me,” he says.
“Sixty-three,” I correct him, and he smiles.
“What if I told you I had the most challenging job yet?”
All right, now I’m curious.
He reaches for a remote and turns the monitors on. Images of a woman’s silhouette appear on each one, all from various angles and seemingly different eras. It’s odd—not a single image shows her face. Some are black and white, others sketches, and some 3D creations. In one image, she’s clad in attire from the late 1920s, and in another, she’s sporting a pantsuit.
“Who is she?” I ask.
“Someone who is getting in my way,” Jamieson says.
While Jamieson portrays himself as a highly educated and peaceful English man, he’s beyond dangerous. He’s nice to me, but that’s because I work for him. The truth is, I wouldn’t want to cross him, and that’s saying a lot being that he’s a feeble.
He owns over half the city in real estate and has made it clear that if anyone stands in his way, he’ll cut them down. He’s corrupt in more ways than I can count, but I choose not to ask questions. All I care about is getting paid.
“So you want me to take her out?” I ask. “Why’s she so interesting? Is she important or something?”
“Don’t worry about the details.” He stares at the images. In a flash, his charming smile transforms into a spiteful grimace. Then, he tugs at the collar of his expensive overcoat and says, “Five million dollars.”
My jaw drops.
“Five million—”
“Five million,” he confirms.
“What’s the catch?” I ask.
“No catch—only risk. Veerka Vanmorte. She’s incredibly dangerous.” He throws his chin out toward the rack of weapons. “You’ll be needing some of those.”
Dangerous? How dangerous could this woman possibly be? Some of the images look over a century old, and in each picture, she looks the same. The woman doesn’t age, which means she’s likely a vampire. She could be fae, but if Jamieson wants her dead, it means she’s implicated in some shady shit… which, let’s face it, most vampires are.
And if that’s the case, so what? I’ve killed hundreds of vampires. That still doesn’t explain why she’s such a threat.
Unless…
“Before you ask… This job is highly classified, but I’m told it’s been shared exclusively over the last few weeks.”
“So others have already tried and failed,” I say, matter-of-factly.
Jamieson nods.
That explains why the price tag is so high. No one’s been able to kill her. How come? Does she have protection? Is she some super ancient vampire with incredible power? I know Jamieson won’t talk about the whole vampire thing, so I don’t bring it up.
“What makes you think I’ll succeed?” I ask.
“You’re the best I’ve ever had.”
Although flattered by his compliment, I can’t help but wonder why he didn’t come to me first. Why let others go after her if I’m the best he has? Over the last few months, Jamieson’s made it quite clear that I’ve earned his top position, meaning I get offered jobs before anyone else does. If I’m his second choice on this one, it means something’s up.
“What aren’t you telling me?”
Clenching his jaw, he sighs. “She’s a vampire.” He almost snarls the last word.
I’m shocked to hear that word come out of his mouth. Jamieson doesn’t talk about demons or vampires. He likes to pretend they don’t exist. He knows all about the magical world, and he hates it. He also ha
tes that vampires run the Underworld. It’s a power thing. I’m willing to bet that if he had the chance, he’d take them out so he could rule over all of San Halos.
So is that what he means when he says this woman is getting in his way? It must be political, which means he has to tread carefully. After all, he can’t have his name on this kill if he wants to keep running shit. He might not like vampires, but he needs to keep the peace with them, which means he needs me to do his dirty work.
“I didn’t want to implicate you in this, Alexis, but you’re my only hope. Take her out, and the five million dollars is yours.” He crosses his arms over his chest with a twinkle in his eyes. He knows I love a challenge as much as I love money. That being said, I’m insulted that he’d send me out on a suicide mission, especially since he thinks I’m a feeble. He either doesn’t give a shit about my life or he does have that much faith in me. It’s hard to believe either of those options. Maybe he’s so blinded by his hatred for this woman that he can’t see past his own nose.
When I don’t answer, he tilts his head. “What do you say, Alexis? I know you can do this.”
I push my tongue against the inside of my cheek, mulling everything over. Five million dollars is life-changing, but so is getting involved with vampires… and I would know. Been there, done that. This isn’t about not being able to; it’s about not being dumb enough to do it. At the end of the day, I’ve fought long and hard to build a life for myself here in San Halos without upsetting the Vampire Mafia. If I succeed in doing this and I get caught, vampires won’t stop hunting me down until I’m dead—permanently. I could flee to Mexico and it wouldn’t matter. Vampires communicate all around the world, and if this woman is as important as Jamieson is making her out to be—which, obviously, she is if she has a five-million-dollar bounty on her head—killing her is a death sentence.
Now biting the inside of my cheek, I shake my head. “Sorry, James. Not this time.”
He parts his lips, clearly wanting to convince me otherwise, but I turn around before he can use his British accent against me. Right before exiting his secret room, I reach for leather cuffs hanging on the wall and strap them on. With a flick of my wrists, two sharp six-inch blades come tearing out of secret compartments and lock into place.
“Holy shit, that’s cool,” I say.
Jamieson is likely too stunned by my rejection of the job to say anything.
I’m about to step out when I glimpse a slick black crossbow that caught my eye earlier. It’s made of coated metal, an elastic that looks indestructible, and a large scope at the top.
I can sense Jamieson watching me, so I hesitate.
Ah, fuck it. I think after everything I’ve done for this man, I deserve a bonus.
I snatch it off the wall, sending mounting equipment flying across the room. Then, I grab the black leather quiver sitting next to it, filled with a dozen silver bullet arrows.
“What do you think you’re doing?” he blurts out at last. “That’s a five-thousand-dollar—”
So much for my bonus.
Without looking back, I wave the crossbow over my head. “You can dock this off my next pay.”
Chapter 8
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Mr. Mushroom bolts off Drax’s lap and heads straight for me, his little nails ticking against my parquet flooring.
I bend down and am greeted by slimy kisses. “Hey, buddy.”
“We were cuddling,” Drax says dryly, his expression flat.
“Well, excuse me,” I say. “What’re you still doing here, anyway? Don’t you work today?”
Drax shakes his thick horned head. “Jake canceled my shift.”
“Jake as in the manager?”
He nods.
I’ve heard about Jake countless times. He’s the manager of TruMart and tends to treat his employees like garbage. Well, most of them. He’s overly nice to the young, pretty girls. Guys, not so much. And especially not to Drax.
Feebles see Drax as a tall guy with messy brown hair, torn jeans, plain T-shirts, and Converse. Jake, more importantly, views Drax as a punk who can’t quite seem to find his path in life and treats him accordingly. Or, more bluntly… he thinks of him as a stoner with no ambition in life. I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t entirely true. While I love Drax and consider him family, he needs to get his shit together. Ever since he got rejected by his parents after trying to reach out again, he’s spiraled down a dark path.
That was eight years ago. He was nineteen.
All right, maybe I shouldn’t judge. We’re on the same path, and I’ve been around for over a thousand years. I guess that makes me the one who needs to get my shit together.
I pull off my sunglasses and toss them on top of a pile of jackets I stole last week. “I’m sorry Jake’s being such a dick. I can kill him if you want.”
That’s my way of saying, I’m sorry about this, buddy. I’m here if you need to talk.
Drax smiles. He knows I’m only joking. “Thanks, Alex. Do you mind if I crash here for a while?”
Planting my hands on my hips, I tilt my head. “You mean you don’t already live here?”
This time, he laughs. Drax has an apartment… somewhere. He’s never there. Most of the time, he’s here. So the running joke is that he’s my roommate, but he doesn’t pay me any rent.
“Stay as long as you need,” I say. “You know you’re always welcome here.”
The words feel mushy coming out of my mouth, so I clear my throat, head to the fridge, and pull out a beer. Cracking it open, I jerk my chin out at him. “Want one?”
“It’s ten in the morning.”
I take a gulp. “What’s your point?”
When he doesn’t answer, I make my way back into the living room and plop down across from him. “Do you know who Veerka Vanmorte is?”
Mr. Mushroom licks the condensation off my beer, and Drax stares at us like we’re some disgusting couple showing too much affection in public.
“Sounds like a vampire,” he says matter-of-factly.
“She is.” I take another sip. “But I’m trying to figure out who she is and why she’s so important.”
He plays with one of his horns—a habit of his when he’s thinking hard. “I don’t know, Alex. I haven’t exactly been social these last few years. You know I’m not involved with anyone from the Underworld aside from you.”
Sighing, I pat Mr. Mushroom on the head.
“Why are you asking me?” he says.
Drax knows what I do for a living. Typically, I don’t go into the gritty details with him. It’s more of a thing we don’t talk about unless I desperately need his help, like with my hit on Adam Shaw. We treat my profession as if I were a spy for the federal government. It isn’t talked about unless absolutely necessary.
“It’s a job I rejected,” I admit.
“Because she’s a vampire,” Drax says.
I nod. While Jamieson’s never sent me on a hunt after a vampire before, I’ve always told Drax that if he did, I’d reject the job. Drax knows how I feel about vampires, especially after what they did. This is the first time I’ve said no to Jamieson, so it isn’t hard for Drax to put two and two together.
“What was the payout?” he asks.
Again, this is something I’ve only talked to Drax about twice. Once, when I got excited about my ten-grand job with Jamieson, and again when I was offered fifty grand a few days ago to take out Adam.
“Five million,” I say.
Drax’s jaw drops and Mr. Mushroom barks in my face as if trying to tell me to take the job.
“Holy fuck, Alex. You need to take it.”
Glaring at him, I tighten my grip around my beer bottle’s neck and it cracks. “You aren’t on my life insurance policy, Drax. So I don’t know why you’re encouraging a suicide mission.”
He rolls his eyes. “Please. You can’t afford life insurance with how you keep throwing your money away. Besides, this isn’t about me. Think about how much your l
ife could change, Alex. You could get yourself a nice place”—he gestures upward, pointing out all the cobwebs and busted ceiling tiles overhead—“and not have to worry about bills for a while.” He leans back into the sofa, rests both arms on the back cushions, and gives me a sly smile that makes it impossible for me to be angry with him. “And I could quit my job and move in with you.”
I tear a couch cushion right out from underneath Mr. Mushroom’s butt and throw it at Drax’s face. He catches it with his brown clawed fingers and laughs—a rumbly sound I don’t hear too often.
“There’s a reason she’s worth that much,” I say.
With one claw, he scratches his chin. “Yeah, guess you’re right. Well, listen, before you say no to the job—”
“I already said no. Why are you trying to push me into this? You know damn well my Lure doesn’t always work on vampires. It’s a huge risk. And even if I manage to kill her, can you imagine the repercussions? I’ll have a huge price on my head.”
I want to add, “Besides, feeding off a vampire is like eating air,” but I don’t, because this debate isn’t about how much my kill will satisfy me sexually. It’s about the money.
He waves a hand in front of his face as if trying to erase everything that came out of his mouth. “Sorry… Look. Forget what I said. But, if you change your mind, I do know a guy—”
My eyes start to narrow.
Drax and I both know why I refuse to go after vampires. He should know better than to push me.
“You came to me, Alex. You were curious. So if you want your questions answered, I know a guy. That’s all I’m saying. But I totally understand why you wouldn’t want—”
“A guy who will know who she is?” I ask.
“He knows everything. He gets paid to share information. That’s what he does. I haven’t talked to him in years, but I know where he is.”
I finish my beer and place the cracked bottle on the coffee table alongside another dozen empties and my Dragon’s Tear whiskey. My gaze lingers on the whiskey longer than intended before Drax says, “Alex!”
“Relax,” I say. “I wasn’t going to have any.”
Especially not after it turned me into a raging bitch who almost knocked out an old lady.
Mortal Blow: An Urban Fantasy Series (Succubus Hitwoman Book 1) Page 5