After my shower, I’m sprawled out on my bed watching what’s left of the eleven o’clock news, getting ready to doze off when I hear a familiar name.
Daniel Armentrout?
I immediately sit up, grab the remote, and push the back button so I can catch the beginning of the story, turning the volume up just a bit.
Late this afternoon, special officers from the New York State Interagency Task Force on Human Trafficking, along with state BCI officers, and agents from the F.B.I. executed search warrants on several locations throughout the city. Those who have been taken into custody are fifty-seven year old Dr. Daniel Armentrout, his wife, thirty-three year old Kandace Armentrout on multiple federal charges of conspiracy to engage in sex trafficking of a minor and transportation of a minor for prostitution. Along with those charges, they are also being investigated by the state in the disappearance of eighteen-year-old Diane Forrester, purportedly an employee of the Armentrout’s. More information will be forthcoming pending a thorough investigation of that matter. Multiple arrests were made during today’s raid on a business owned and operated by the Armentrouts, which is purportedly a private sex club known as The Sanctuary. Investigators were tipped off to various addresses throughout the city thought to be part of the Armentrout network of sex trafficking of minors and prostitution rings. Arrested for Obstructing Justice are twenty-two year old Shelby Parker, forty-eight year old Grady Monroe, and thirty-six year old Derek McNabb. More arrests are anticipated as both state and federal investigators dismantle the network and prosecutors present their cases to a Federal Grand Jury. According to a source who wishes to remain anonymous, this sex trafficking operation spanned several states, which, if confirmed, could spawn additional charges for R.I.C.O. violations. We will have more as this story develops.”
I sit in stunned silence as familiar faces flash before me on the television screen.
My cell phone trills. It’s Krew.
“Hey,” I answer softly.
“Did I wake you up, Princess?” he asks.
“No. Did you see the news?”
“I did. That’s why I called to see if you’d seen it. My God, Carson, this is some major shit going down, right?”
“Yeah. Exactly what I was thinking just now. It sure as hell caught me by surprise. But don’t you think it’s a little strange?”
There’s a pause.
“Well, I’ve been thinking about that,” he starts, “Do you suppose it’s possible that place has been under surveillance for a while? I mean this kind of a bust doesn’t happen over-night. I’ll be honest, Princess, I’m relieved. Now you have no reason to worry or get further involved. You can move on knowing that justice will be served.”
“Maybe,” I reply, “But it’s hard to move on not knowing exactly who it was who put me in the hospital, fighting for my life.”
I hear his sigh over the phone. “I know sweetheart,” he says softly, “I know you need closure, and I'm sure in time, that will happen. But look at it this way, those people are likely shitting their drawers right now. And in order to get some sort of plea deal, they'll surely rat one another out in order accomplish that. So chances are very good it will all come out. Just be patient. What you need to do is let me pick you up in the morning and take you down to provide your statement to the authorities, to refresh them about your case, so they properly link it to those bastards, okay?”
“Yeah,” I say with a sigh, “You’re absolutely right. Patience never has been one of my strong suits."
“Are you lonely?” he asks, changing the subject.
“Kind of,” I say, a smile forming on my lips.
“Want some company?” he asks.
“What?”
“I’m parked outside of your dorm. So you have a choice to make - is it gonna be your place or mine?” he asks mischievously.
“You are something else,” I say with a laugh. “Let’s do your place. Give me five and I’ll be out.”
Later, after Krew and I properly made love, and yes, it definitely was lovemaking, I curl up against him. My fingers lightly brush a path across his taught belly. “Krew,” I say softly, “I didn’t mean to come off so bitchy earlier this evening. I sometimes have trust issues, and well, I thought maybe you were up to something shady, taking that call when you were right in the middle of -”
“Eating your pussy?” he finishes for me with a wide grin. “Yeah, not my best moment, I know, but trust works both ways, Carson. I’m not a player. I’m not an asshole out to get laid. I care very much for you, and I want to see where it goes. Trust is earned. And I promise, I will do everything in my power to earn yours, if you’ll just stick around long enough so I can show you. How about it, Princess?”
And I know he’s right.
“Yes,” I reply, “Now kiss me, my Prince.”
THE END
About Andrea Smith
Andrea Smith is a USA Today and Amazon Best-Selling Author of the G-Man Series! She has a wicked sense of humor, and no matter the genre, she is able to infuse laughter throughout.
She self-publishes Contemporary Romance, Romantic Suspense, Romantic Comedy, New Adult Romance, MFF Romance, True Crime Fiction and Sensual Romance with a paranormal twist. She has collaborated with Author Eva LeNoir on three M/M Romances! Many of her books are also available on audio!
http://www.andreasmithauthor.com/
Night Moves
CJ Pinard
Newly-turned vampire Daniela has taken up bounty hunting for work. But there's something about her newest target, a sexy human named Judson, that isn't quite right. It's possible he's innocent and now Daniela has to choose whether to bring him in, or take him on the run.
Copyright
Night Moves by CJ Pinard
Copyright 2020 ©
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales, or organizations is entirely coincidental.
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
Copyediting: Amabel Daniels
1
This whole sunlight allergy thing was going to be a problem.
Okay… it wasn’t an allergy, rather, a side effect of my new “condition.” Not that I asked for this ailment, but there was no use crying over spilled milk. Or, in my case, spilled blood. I paced the floor, looking out through the peephole of my small townhouse, hoping the damn sun would sink behind the mountains so I could go the hell outside. I needed to get paid and I could only work at night… obviously.
“Off to work?”
I turned around to see my roommate, Angie, staring curiously at me, as she always did when I was pacing the tiled entryway to our shared townhouse. “Yeah, like always.”
She had a plateful of pizza rolls and a big, fizzing cup of soda in her hand. I sighed whimsically at them. God, I missed junk food. She set the items on the side table next to the sofa and picked up the remote. Before sitting, she pointed the device at me and said, “You should get a day job. Working nights blows. I’ll never do it again.”
Resisting an eyeroll, I forced a smile to my bright-red painted lips and said, “Well, I can’t get my ass up in the morning, so I’ll stick with the night shift, thank you very much.”
She plopped her butt down on the couch and said, “You’ll get sick of it, trust me.”
I glanced outside to see the sun had just fallen behind the Rocky Mountains’ horizon, and with my hand on the doorknob, I said, “Have a goodnight, Ang!” as I sprinted outside and got into my Audi SUV.
Yes, the townhouse had a garage. No, I couldn’t park in it. Angie owned the place, and I just rented a room, so the one-car garage space was hers. It wasn’t like I could argue with that. What would I say? “Hey, girl, I can’t go in the sun, could I park in the garage?” No. It was bad enough the woman thought I worked at a bar.
As far as the SUV went… ever try to shove a body into the trunk of a Honda Accord? They may be roomy, for like, groceries and strollers. A 250-pound man with a love of bacon cheeseburgers? Not so much.
Sure, I could have opted for the Kia SUV but where was the fun in that? The 250-pounder had yielded me a big chunk, so I’d got myself a used Audi with a few more miles on it. Zero regrets.
I slammed my stilettoed foot on the gas and headed toward the east side of town. The orange glow of the sun sinking behind the mountains was definitely a sight to behold—and not one I would ever tire of. But to see a sunrise—even without Colorado’s mountainous aesthetics—would be so damn amazing.
The look in his eye was just downright murderous. “You’re fucking late, Dani.”
Refusing to show fear, I calmly swallowed and lifted my chin. “And you’re fucking ugly. What’s your point?”
Before I could blink, Ringo was in my face, his vise grip squeezing my cheeks. “Bitch, watch the way you talk to me.”
I wasn’t going to back down to him, so I stared deep into his soulless black eyes and smirked despite the pain. “You like it.”
The look in his eye told me I was right. The murderous glare was gone, replaced by a fiery lust. “Jonas has your job.”
Jonas was his nerdy lackey who did whatever the damn demon wanted. My cheeks were on fire, burning from where he squeezed, but I continued my smirk. “Good to know. Master.”
That asshole had turned me. Therefore, he was, indeed, my sire, but I refused to serve him like he thought I should. In fact, I was going to kill him at the first opportunity. Until then, I’d take the $5,000 he was paying me to kill his targets.
The guy had an ego the size of Texas, but don’t think for one minute I didn’t do a background check on each and every one of the targets. No way was I killing for no reason. Fuck that.
Ringo finally let go of my face and I stepped back a couple of steps but didn’t break eye contact. When one of his cronies called his name from the other side of the warehouse, I took the opportunity to use my vampire speed to reach Jonas’s office.
Without looking up, the small man shoved a manila envelope at me from across his desk and said, blank-faced, “Your next target.”
I slowly picked up the envelope while looking at Jonas and said, “Aren’t you a barrel of fun today?”
Lazily looking up from his desk, he pushed his glasses up further on his nose. “And when am I ever?”
“You need to get a life, Jonas,” I quipped, putting the envelope under my arm and strolling out of his office in my shiny red stilettos and mini skirt. Yeah, it was slutty, but it got the job done without me having to turn any damn tricks.
Once I reached the breakroom area of the warehouse, I plopped down into a chair and opened the envelope. I spread out the papers on the table, I gazed at my next target.
“Judson Creed. Geez, sounds like the newest boy band member,” I murmured to myself.
“Did someone say member?”
I turned around to see Talon, a douchebag vamp who wore too much hair gel and guyliner.
“Go away, dick,” I said under my breath, trying to ignore him.
In true Talon fashion, he grabbed a chair and flipped it around. Then he straddled it and pulled the chewed-up toothpick from his mouth. “Why?”
I sighed and looked up at him. “Why what?”
“Why you so mean to me?” He grinned and replaced the toothpick.
“Because I don’t like you,” I deadpanned. I looked down at the paperwork. “Now, I know you don’t know what it’s like to read the same line over since you can’t read, but it’s annoying and I have shit to do. So, go… fall on your knife.”
I heard the sound before I saw the knife whiz by my head and land into the corkboard behind me. I grinned. “Nice throw.”
Talon walked over and pulled the weapon from the wall. “You’re lucky I missed.”
I mock-gasped and put my hand over my heart. “You would never kill me.”
He re-sheathed the knife and walked out of the breakroom but stopped before he got to the door. “And I do know how to read.”
I snorted and looked down at my paperwork.
Judson Creed, age 26, guitarist at Bash nightclub. Real name Judson Daniel Smith.
“Geez, I was only joking about the boy band thing,” I muttered.
He and his sister were attacked by a vampire, he survived but she didn’t. He hasn’t kept his mouth shut about the attack and has even tried to lure vampires into alleys without success. Tells anyone who will listen about it. He’s been warned twice but is not giving up. Expiration date: October 31st.
I glanced at my phone: October 25th.
I had five days to find and kill this blabbermouth before he exposes us all. Which should be extra fun since he obviously hated vamps. I may be pretty but I was still the very monster he loathed.
Picking up his photo, I stared at it. Good-looking guy, longish, sandy blond hair, strong nose, nice lips, stubbly jawline. No fashion sense, though. Plaid button-up flannel. Shudder.
I memorized his home address and stuffed all the paperwork and photos into the envelope. Thankfully, I was able to leave the warehouse without being bothered by Ringo or any of his goons.
2
The music inside Bash was a literal assault on my sensitive hearing. I kept meaning to go get some of those moldable earplugs and keep them in my purse for occasions like this, but I seemed to be too busy avoiding the sun and killing people once it went down.
I’d only been a vampire for about six months. I’d just finished the night shift at the diner with Angie, and that night, her then-boyfriend had picked her up to stay at his place. When I’d gotten into my car, it hadn’t started. A nice-looking stranger—a demon wearing the face of a saint—had offered me a ride home. I foolishly had accepted. After all, he was dressed in a very expensive suit, wore a Tag watch, and drove a Tesla. I mean, what could have gone wrong?
But… he was a devil vampire in disguise. Devil wears Prada. Son of Sam. Where had my brain been?
I’d known almost immediately that something was wrong. The townhouse was only about two miles from the diner, and when Ringo had pulled over in a deserted alleyway, I knew I was in trouble. I tried escaping but the door wouldn’t unlock. He leaned over, looking like he wanted to kiss me, but I recoiled back from him.
“Just… just… take me home,” I stammered.
He grinned at me and brushed a stray piece of hair off my forehead that had escaped my bun. “What’s your name?”
I remember feeling relaxed at that point. There had been something in his eyes that had calmed me. “Daniela.”
“Such a pretty name. What’s your last name, sweetheart?” he cooed.
“Diaz,” I deadpanned, still fascinated by his eyes, which I could have sworn were brown but now looked silvery.
“Ah, muy bonita,” he replied in broken Spanish.
“Take me home, please,” I pled, a panic building up in my chest but still seeming calm on the outside.
“Shh, senorita,” he said, leaning in and putting his lips to my neck.
“Get off me!” I snapped, trying to push him off.
He covered his hand over my mouth and bit into my throat. I screamed but it was only a muffle. I tried biting his hand, but it was no use. I was growing weak. The harder he sucked, the weaker I became until the blackness finally took me.
I woke up three days later in his bed. I had no idea what he had done to me during those three days—and I never asked. What would be the point? He then drove me home and told me to, “Stay out of the sun.” That was it.
Living with Angie had become
a chore until I found a comfortable enough routine. She had quickly switched to the day shift after that and I told her I had quit the diner and was waiting tables at a nightclub (hence the slutty clothing I left in every night). I had installed some blackout shutters on my bedroom window after the one morning she had decided to throw back my curtains and tell me to, “Get up, sleepyhead.” I had had to cower under the covers and scream at her to shut the curtains. The lame lie about my eyes being sensitive to sunlight had barely passed as an excuse.
Admittedly, I hadn’t had much of a life before becoming a vampire. I had been casually seeing a couple of guys, didn’t have any kids, and was an only child. My parents lived in Lakewood and I visited them occasionally (at night, of course). I knew I was going to have to move out of Colorado in a few years, though. I’d cross that bridge when I came to it.
“Welcome to the stage, Innubis!”
I looked up to see a grungy-looking guy breaking me out of my musings by announcing Judson’s band.
With a bloody mary in front of me, I rested my hand on it as I sat alone at the table. I was dressed a little less slutty tonight, in just a pair of fitted jeans, a sleeveless black crop top, and flats so I wouldn’t stand out too much. I did have every intention of “meeting” Judson tonight, though.
I sat through a few sets, bored out of my mind, but watching his behavior. He made eye contact with me a few times, and I threw him a sexy smirk. I wanted him to think I was every bit the groupie as most of the girls in here hanging on every lyric and guitar riff they were putting out.
After an hour of that, I got up as they were finishing up their last song. I made my way to the bar and perched myself on a stool closest to the stage. I ordered another bloody mary and sipped on it slowly. I didn’t eat food. Alcohol did nothing for me and I could only take liquids other than blood and water very slowly and carefully or I’d violently vomit. No need to rehash the story of the time I learned that lesson the hard way.
Wicked Love Page 9