Sucks to Be Me

by Painter, Kristen

  “Thank you.” But she made no move to take the basket as a little alarm started ringing in her head. Not only was Yuri a Russian name, but this guy had enough of an accent to confirm that heritage. Not straight off the boat, but he’d been born in the motherland, that was for sure.

  The alarm, however, wasn’t because she’d been unaware that Joe had known any Russians. Of course, after finding Joe’s secret room, very little should surprise her.

  The alarm was all about the other things she knew. Three in particular. One, the Russian crime syndicate was alive and well in New Jersey. Two, they were exceptionally ruthless. And three, the Russian mob and the Italian mob were sworn enemies.

  Yuri continued to hold out the offering. “I was wondering if he ever mentioned me?”

  “No, I’m sorry, he didn’t.” She tipped her head toward the porch. “You can just put that down.”

  “I see.” Yuri frowned, still clutching the basket. “I am afraid he left behind some unfinished business.”

  Annoyance tensed her whole body. She was not going through this again. “That’s too bad. I have to go now—”

  Yuri dropped the basket, then his slab of a hand flattened against her door, and he shoved it open, knocking her back as he stepped inside.

  She retreated out of surprise, raising the gun. Her hand was shaking. “Get out of my house.”

  He shut the door and came toward her, hands up. “There is no need for that. This is a simple business matter. Your husband owes my boss money.”

  She took another step back, sending one longing look at the alarm panel. It was too far away now. And Yuri was in the way. She might actually have to shoot him. “Take it as a loss. Joe can’t help you with that. Now go.”

  “My boss wants the money back.”

  “I’m sure he does, but it’s not my business. Get out of my house.” She pulled out her phone with her free hand. “Or I will call the police.”

  Yuri ignored her threat and came close. “Do you know how much your husband owes my boss?”

  “Not a clue, and I don’t care.” She almost wished it had been Big Tony at her door. She’d much rather shoot him. Hmm. Big Tony. “You know, my husband’s boss might like to hear about this. You know who I mean? My brother-in-law.” For the sake of the moment, Donna was willing to claim him. “Big Tony Villachi.”

  Yuri nodded slowly, which might have been the only speed at which he was capable of moving his cinder block head. “I know who he is. But this is about your husband and my boss.”

  “Who is your boss?” She figured she might as well get a name. One more thing to tell Rico.

  “Boris Reznikov.” In the speaking of that name, everything about Yuri changed. All pretense of friendliness disappeared. The glint in his eyes darkened, and the set of his mouth turned cruel. “And Boris wants his five million dollars.”

  Five. Million. The familiar figure caused the pit of her stomach to fall to her knees. She sucked in a ragged breath. “That’s a lot of money. That I know nothing about.”

  He popped his knuckles by clenching his fists. “Then you don’t mind if I have a look around?”

  That assumption ticked her off far more than she could have imagined. “Of course I mind. This is my house. And you are an uninvited guest. Actually, you’re not even a guest, because that would imply you might somehow be welcome, and you’re not.”

  She tapped her phone with her thumb to bring the screen to life. “I’m calling the cops.” But in the split second she took her eyes off him to look at the screen, he lunged.

  He swatted both the phone and gun out of her hands. They went flying in different directions. “No, you are not.”

  She stared at him, incensed at this intrusion for more reasons than she could count. Her stomach growled, but she had no time for the hunger right now. Especially because anger was the only thing she had to feed it. “Get out. Now. Or I will make sure Big Tony knows that you threatened his sister-in-law. Do you understand me?”

  Yuri’s beady eyes narrowed. “I understand we are going to do this the hard way.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Yuri grabbed her arm. “Where is your safe?”

  “Let go of me.” She yanked back, almost getting free. Anger filled her like flame-heated air lifting a hot air balloon. It rose through her with an odd mix of pure calm and hair-trigger crazy. She’d never felt anything quite like it. Except maybe when everything had gone wrong at the drop-off.

  “Where is your safe?” he repeated.

  Her stomach grumbled again. She stared at Yuri, challenging him with her gaze, but keeping her tone calm. “You need to take your hand off me.”

  “Or what? You do not control this situation. I do.” His grip tightened, and he pulled her close. His breath was sour. Like pickled onions. This close, she could see a vein pulse in his forehead. It was oddly fascinating. “You are a very attractive woman. After you give me the money, I think I will show you just how much I am in control.” He grinned lasciviously. “Perhaps you will even enjoy it.”

  His insinuation made her feel ill. The thought of him touching her more than he already had…she shuddered. “You’re not going to lay another finger on me, do you understand?”

  He shook her hard, rattling her teeth. “I will do with you what I want.”

  She shoved at him and kicked him in the shin.

  He backhanded her and for a moment, she saw stars. He leaned in. “I am in control. Understand? I am your boss now.”

  Beside the shock of his assault, his assumption almost made her laugh. It was like her anger had gone all the way around to amusement. He had no idea who he was up against. She tipped her head to the side and back so she could make eye contact with him. His throat was right in front of her. She smiled at him. “Are you, though? Are you really in control?”

  A moment of confusion drifted through his gaze. No doubt he’d expected her to be scared. Or maybe he’d expected her to break down and take him to the safe. But he wasn’t getting anything close to what he’d anticipated.

  For the third time, her stomach complained. Her gums joined in with a familiar ache. And the hunger inside clawed at her belly, trying to take over. She held it off. Just.

  She spoke carefully, composing her mouth in such a way as not to reveal anything that might show up suddenly and frighten him. She wanted to keep him close just a little while longer. “I’m going to tell you a secret.”

  His confusion passed. He nodded. “Good. Where is the money?”

  “It’s in a safe-deposit box.” She shook her head. “But that’s not the secret.”

  “What, then?”

  She smiled again, tight-lipped this time, and nodded to the urge that was quickly becoming her driving force. Any moment now. “I’m starving.”

  He frowned. “Why should that—”

  She gave way to the hunger. The possession was instant. Her vision sharpened as if a tuning filter had been placed over her eyes. Her fangs punched all the way through her gums, and she opened her mouth, smiling wider.

  Yuri yelled something in Russian and jerked back, but she grabbed hold of his sport coat and launched into him, knocking him to the floor.

  She rode him down, knees in his gut, taking the air out of him as they landed. He gasped, trying to breathe. His eyes were wide, uncertain, desperate. Hands grasping, reaching for her.

  In that moment of helplessness, with his head arched back, she attacked.

  Something inside her took control. Something more than the hunger. Something she refused to give a name to. But in this instance, nothing mattered except that she feed.

  Her fangs sank into his throat, piercing the vein beneath his skin and giving her exactly what she craved.

  He grabbed her arms, trying to wrench her off. His efforts were futile. Her strength was superior, and his fate was sealed.

  Time slowed. His heartbeat thumped in her ears, drumming through her with a rhythm that drove her. She drank to satisfy a thirst that came from deep w
ithin her. With the kind of abandon that might have been caused by a hot day and a long run.

  Yuri’s life force spilled through her. Fleeting images flickered across her mind’s eye like old movies shown on a hastily hung bedsheet. They went by too fast to catch much. Then the hunger faded, replaced by a sense of well-being that surpassed anything she’d felt before.

  At last, her fangs receded. The hunger was gone. Warmth suffused her. She tingled with it, like champagne ran in her veins.

  Or sunlight.

  She sat back, wiping her mouth with her fingers. She still sat astride Yuri, who’d gone very still. Something hard and metal dug into her knee as she shifted. His gun.

  She took it out of the holster and pointed it at him as she got to her feet. She nudged his leg with her foot. “Get up. It’s time for you to go.”

  He didn’t move.

  She nudged him again. He was probably in shock. What she’d done to him was enough to stun anyone. “Blockhead. Yuri. Get up.”

  Still no response.

  She sighed and knelt beside him. She shook his shoulder. “Hey. Snap out of it.”

  His head lolled to the side, eyes open. Unresponsive.

  “Uh-oh.” Panic set in. She tossed the gun to the side, grabbed his shoulders, and shook him again. Hard. He jiggled with the kind of flaccidity that could be described only as lifeless.

  What had Claudette said? Listen for the heartbeat?

  Donna pressed her ear to his chest and did just that. Nothing. She sat back on her heels. What else had Claudette said? Don’t drink too much.

  Holy Mother. Donna feared that was exactly what she’d done. She gasped as the full reality of her actions hit her. “Oh no.” She’d drunk from a human. Which meant, according to Claudette, that Donna had completed the transition.

  Her internal temperature rose as she ran to the half bath. She turned on the light and stared at herself.

  She was radiant. Her eyes were a clear, whiskey brown, unlike the dark coffee color they’d been before. Her skin had a translucent glow that made her seem lit from within. Something was happening. Something inside her.

  Energy coursed through her, causing her to tremble.

  She went back out to look at Yuri. He’d gone ashen. There was no question about it. He was dead.

  The air around her buckled with heat waves. She made it to the couch before her knees gave out. Something was taking place deep within her. A change.

  Then everything went dark, and she drifted into immortality.

  Lucky’s weight on her chest brought her around. He was standing on her, staring down at her with great expectations of something. She squinted at him, barely opening her eyes. “Hi, baby.”

  She closed her eyes again. She’d dreamed while she was out. Crazy things. Lucinda and Yuri and Joe. Feverish, impossible things.

  Lucky pawed at her. She opened her eyes again, wider this time.

  Every individual hair on Lucky’s black and white body stood out in sharp detail. Flecks of brown and orange decorated his green-gold irises, colors she’d never noticed before. He was purring like a little motor running. The sound filled her ears and carried through her until she could feel it in her chest.

  Even his pulse and breath sounds were plain to her.

  “Hungry?” She wasn’t. She was as satisfied as she’d ever been in her life. More than that. She felt whole in a way she’d never experienced. She sat up, taking Lucky in her arms as she did. His fur was silk and velvet.

  She nuzzled her face against his side, luxuriating in the sensation. “Wow, you’re soft.”

  Everything was different. Better. Sharper. Clearer. More real.

  She stood, Lucky cradled against her like a baby. Yuri still lay where she’d left him. He’d meant her harm. And yet, she was the one who had caused it. She hadn’t meant to. Hadn’t understood what she was doing.

  Hadn’t really been in control.

  No excuse, she supposed. But what was done was done. She wasn’t going to torture herself over it. He’d been a criminal. Just like the men at the drop-off. Just like her late husband.

  She took Lucky into the kitchen and gave him a fresh can of food, then went back out to the living room. She stood there, staring at Yuri’s body.

  How on earth was she going to move him? He must weigh two fifty. Maybe more. But he couldn’t stay where he was.

  There was room in the back garden, she supposed. But that meant digging a hole. And then there was his car to think of.

  Calling the police would have been the logical thing to do, but logic had left this equation days ago. This problem was hers to solve.

  She reached for her crucifix, running her fingers over the metal to comfort herself.

  A buzzing sound pulled her out of her thoughts. Her phone. Where had it landed when Yuri had knocked it away? She found it half under the couch. Just an incoming text from Martin’s Cleaners.

  Her mouth opened slightly. Rico. He was coming at three. And it was ten after two.

  Okay, that was a good thing. She’d explain to him about Yuri, and he could help her. He would, wouldn’t he?

  She looked over her shoulder at the body. How was she going to explain the twin punctures in his neck? “Oh, and by the way, Rico, I’m a vampire.”

  She swallowed as the last word left her mouth. She’d said it so easily. Maybe because there was no denying it. Not now. Not after all this.

  The sense of power it gave her was almost as overwhelming as the crushing weight of acceptance. But why should she feel powerful? What did it mean? A vampire? How was that possible?

  She didn’t know. Just that it was.

  Claudette. Claudette could help her. Or the therapy group. That card was upstairs in the pocket of her robe.

  Phone in hand, she jogged up the stairs to the bedroom and retrieved the card. She dialed the number. It rang three times before going to voicemail. The message repeated everything on the card. Group name, location, meeting time.

  Donna hung up. Maybe it was time to give Claudette a mental ring.

  Which was still weird, but whatever.

  Donna closed her eyes and sent out a thought. Claudette, are you there? It’s Donna. I need your help. I’m sorry about last night. I know it’s all real now. Please get in touch with me. I did something I shouldn’t have.

  Donna opened her eyes just to roll them. Did all newly turned vampires sound that pathetic?

  Rico was on his way. She’d throw herself on his mercy. He hadn’t failed her yet. But a dead body…was that something he could ignore?

  A dead Russian gangster, she reminded herself. Who’d intended to hurt her.

  She went into the bathroom and turned on the shower, then leaned against the bathroom counter. There was a little smear of blood at the corner of her mouth. She wiped it away. She’d just tell Rico everything. He was an FBI agent. There probably wasn’t much he hadn’t heard.

  If he believed her, great. If he thought she was crazy, then that would just become part of her defense.

  She stripped down and got under the hot spray.

  Thirty minutes later, she was dressed and back downstairs. She was in a pair of her new jeans, one of her new T-shirts, and an oversize mohair cardigan.

  She’d decided against moving Yuri. This was a crime scene, after all, and moving him would be considered tampering with evidence. Although she supposed she’d already done that somewhat by showering and changing clothes.

  Rico arrived right on time, pulling up in a step van with a faded plumber’s logo on the side. So that was how he was going to hide in plain sight. Smart.

  She watched him walk up to her door. He was in a plumber’s jumpsuit too. Not a bad look on him, the whole blue-collar thing. There was no sign of the second agent. Kowalski. She was fine with that, considering the circumstances.

  She opened the door before Rico could knock.

  He tipped his head at the black SUV sitting in her driveway. “You have company?”

  She opene
d her door all the way and stepped to the side so he could see Yuri. “You might say that. Or you might say I did.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  “I’m glad Kowalski got called to another case now.” Rico stood up from checking Yuri’s pulse. “He’s dead all right. You want to tell me what happened?”

  “Not really. But I’m going to.” She chewed on her lip. This wasn’t going to be easy. “Could we go in the kitchen? Kind of awkward talking over a dead body.”

  “Sure.”

  Rico followed her. She went straight to the fridge. “You want a drink?”

  “I’m fine, thanks.”

  She got a mineral water out and popped the bottle cap off with her thumb, then took a long sip. “I really don’t know how to tell you this, except just to tell you. But I first want to say that I don’t expect you to believe me. I didn’t believe it either. Until today.”

  He frowned. “Okay.”

  She set the bottle on the counter. “You might want to sit down for this.”

  “I’m good.”

  She nodded. “I’m…” Wow. This was really hard to say. “I killed Yuri. But it was an accident. I…I…” She sighed. This was only hard because she cared what Rico thought. But that was silly. He thought of her only as an informant. Nothing else.

  “Whatever it is, say it. I promise there’s not much that can shock me after seventeen years with the bureau. Just come out with it.”

  Why were these words so stuck on her tongue? “You say there’s not much that can shock you, but I don’t know…”

  “Let me guess.” His eyes narrowed. “You’re a vampire. Newly turned.”

  She stared at him like he’d just grown a third eye. “How…how did you know that?”

  “I’m right?”

  She nodded. She wasn’t sure what shocked her more, that Rico had guessed or that he was so nonchalant about it. “You seem so sure. But come on, how did you know?”

  He shrugged. “It’s my job to be observant and figure things out.”