by Tracy Ellen
Carrie swore ardently, “Oh fuck me, but I thought Catrina was a prostitute when I first saw those cards!”
“Me, too.” I admitted ruefully, “I thought the "Head Woman" title meant she specialized in blow jobs.”
Carrie laughed loudly, but when she settled down, her voice was a blend of rueful sarcasm and worry when asked, “I don’t know, Anabel, should I be happier Cat was actually sucking blood?”
I chuckled in response, even though my brain was screaming, ‘WTF? Why had Kyle Koch been in Northfield asking questions about me? Who is this guy?’
Carrie let out a deep breath. “Besides being Kyle Koch’s girlfriend, which I understand is a full-time job in itself because the guy’s ego is seriously whacked; Cat’s job was trolling the casino’s clubs to entice people to attend his private parties. Cat said it was exciting at first, but then she started getting nervous. Kyle is very controlling and kept insisting she do more and more drugs or he’d get pissed at her, and the parties were getting darker.” She muttered derisively, “I wonder what my dumb sister thinks is darker than drinking blood, for God’s sake?”
“Carrie, you stepped in at the perfect time to get Cat out of town. Another reason I called you this morning is because I just got off the phone with a friend in Vegas. Kyle Koch was arrested last night...”
Carrie interrupted and repeated in voice of startled delight, “Arrested?” She gushed eagerly, “I knew it! Was it for all the drugs at his vampire parties? A cop called me on Monday to ask if I was with Catrina on Saturday and Sunday. I verified I was with her both days and that Kyle Koch was definitely not with us. When they asked me that question, I prayed the dickhead was in some kind of legal trouble. Please tell me that a-holes of all a-holes has gotten himself in big trouble!”
I hadn’t spoken to Carrie of my run-ins with Koch in Vegas. I also didn’t confess now it was me who had pointed the detectives in Carrie’s direction when she inadvertently told me Kyle’s weekend alibi of Catrina LaFave was a lie.
I answered, “From what my friend said the arrest is for murder, not drugs. Is that big enough trouble? Kyle Koch killed a woman, but there aren’t any more details out there yet.”
Carried whooped, “Oh, hell yes that’s big enough, and it answers the fuck out of my question what could be darker than drinking blood!” She added in a rush, “Thanks for the call, Anabel.” She laughed. “I never thought I’d be so happy to know a killer, but I need to go tell Cat the good news. Let’s keep in contact, but don’t call me, I’ll call you. You know, so if she sees your name on my phone, Cat doesn’t decide to punch me out next. I may be tall, but I’m a wimpy chicken that hates the sight of blood, especially my own!”
I was actually laughing a little when I put down the phone. I had a ping of regret that because of the human hurricane Catrina, Carrie and I could never be real friends, but I get that sisters come first.
My laughter faded at the thought of loyalty, specifically the misbegotten kind.
I gripped the latte cup to warm my chilled hands and stared off into space while I decided what to do next. All of Carrie’s crazy information had reinforced my suspicions and forced me to draw unpleasant conclusions, but again, I wanted and needed to be sure. As I called the next number, it wasn’t until I had to pry them apart to take another gulp that I realized how tightly my jaws were clenched at the thought of Mr. Secretive.
“Hi Jamie, can you do me a favor?”
Recognizing my voice, my fake godmother’s chipper tone went down an octave when she crooned, “Oh, honey, I’ve heard the terrible news about your old school friend and her husband. I’m so, so sorry.”
Not the least surprised Jamie had already heard, I mumbled, “Thank you, yes, it’s pretty terrible news.”
As it was, after simply saying those words, the muscles in my throat started to tighten around my vocal cords and my heart thumped harder in my chest. Jamie may not be my actual godmother, but she was my deceased Mom’s closest friend and has protectively hovered over me all my life. Her maternal sympathy effortlessly pierced the thin shell of my shaky control. “Jamie, please, I can’t talk about it now, but can I get your help on something else?”
“Oh, of course, Bel, what can I do? Is it the funeral? Do you need the reception catered? Do you need booze? You name it and you’ve got it, honey.”
“Er…thanks, but it’s not that.” Confused by her offers, I waved them off while I swallowed rapidly to generate some moisture in my mouth in the attempt to prevent the growing lump in my throat. I cleared my throat and said hoarsely, “It’s about those two strangers and all the odd questions in the bar two weeks ago. Will you call Bartender Al and ask if the woman was tall with black hair and the man was albino blonde?”
There was a beat of surprised silence. “No problem, I'll call him right this very second.”
“Thank you,” I whispered gratefully and slumped back in my chair.
I used the next thirty seconds to wrestle my emotions back under control and reduce the boulder in my throat down to a breathable pebble size before Jamie called back.
“Yes, she was tall, skinny, and had black hair to her waist and the guy was as white as a ghost. I cannot believe that dumbass Al didn’t tell me any of this the first time around.” Despite the fury in her voice, Jamie asked with concern, “Is everything okay? I mean, I know everything’s not okay, but are those folks causing you any trouble?”
“I know what you meant, and yes, I’m perfectly okay. Thanks for your help, Jamie. I’ll be in touch soon, but I gotta go. Bye!”
I hated to be so rude to my fake godmother, but on top of the throat closing issue, my nipples were trying to poke their way out of my black velvet robe. These days, I am listening to my gut and to the rest of my anatomy.
I swirled around in my chair to find Luke Drake leaning a shoulder against the open office door and observing me closely.
I ignored the attractively mussed black hair and the healthy flush on his lean cheeks from the cold wind outdoors. I ignored the outline of bulging biceps under the sleeves of his leather jacket, accentuated by his crossed arms. I ignored the full bakery bag dangling from his hand, enticingly outlined with a greasy mark from the freshly-baked croissants inside, even though the aroma of their buttery goodness made me dizzy with hunger.
Instead, I watched impassively while his eyes did a careful sweep of the small office and then settle on me again, softening with that special, tender regard in their beautiful green depths reserved especially for me.
My Dark Prince eyed me up and down, wincing slightly, as one slashing brow arched slowly. “Hmm, you certainly look…less than okay.”
####
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Read on for an excerpt from the exciting romantic chiller written by Tracy Ellen taking place on the eve of the zombie apocalypse, Acadia’s Law: Book One, Undying Love Series
“Excerpt from Chapter II”
Squaring my shoulders, I worked my way across the room through the talking crowds of people standing in the aisles. I reached the darkly stained wood bar and ordered a glass of the house red from a smiling bartender wearing the name tag of Michelle. Pouring, she answered my query that the place was packed due to a corporate Casino Night taking place in their East Ballroom. She noted I was alone, leaned closer, and added that her manager recently mentioned there were about one hundred and twenty-five people in the bar, close to their record. Her eyes lit up, probably thinking of the tips she’d rake in tonight while I glanced around thinking that meant more men.
Surrounded with people, six high-tops that were an upscale version of picnic tables took up the middle of the cocktail bar directly across from where I stood. The warm décor, the buzz of lively conversation, and the soft background music with a beat—I could see how this bar provided a pleasant, convivial atmosphere where it would be nice to meet a date for a drink.
However, I was not here to hav
e fun. Focused on my mission; I started back at the left aisle near the entrance. The plan was to stroll clockwise around the entire bar, so that I didn’t miss any potential targets.
Facing the room from my spot near the entrance, the cocktail bar had two distinct aisles running down its length, but was cleverly divided into two rooms by different heights of tables, tall backed booths, and support columns.
Avoiding direct eye contact with any men just yet, I slowly, methodically walked down the left aisle. Weaving in and out of groups of drinking people, I observed the possibilities.
I was working off the general idea that sexual attraction between strangers was only skin deep, which was as deep as I cared to go. The term “meat market” never felt more apt. I wondered if this was how men only looking to get laid narrowed down their prey, or if there was a more efficient way that was still legal. I snorted into my wine glass while picturing carrying a hand sign that read, “I Want Your Penis!” to flash at the man I chose, much like bidding at an auction. I could flip it to the other side where it would say, “For free, so shut up and follow me!” No talking and no getting to know each other crap.
Disregarding the snuggling couples sitting on a long leather banquette amid small cocktail tables, I continued strolling down the aisle and entered the rear section of the bar.
I peeked out the back entrance. A single glass door led to the anteroom of the East Ballroom. Dozens of Casino Night people strolled around with cocktails in hand.
I turned back into the bar, watched some men shoot pool for a minute, and then ambled my way through the throngs and back up the right aisle. Leaning against the bar, there was a man wearing a dark suit with a loosened red tie who looked promising, but I passed him by for now.
Completing my surveillance where I’d begun, my eyes skimmed over a high top table in the middle of the room. A few couples out for a nice evening together did not fit the bill, but something I glimpsed caused my eyes to swing back. I stood perfectly still, instincts on high alert, the man in the red tie at the bar already forgotten.
The chatting group standing around the table parted like a curtain at a theater and revealed a man sitting down. I forgot to breathe. I kid you not; my eyes beheld the most handsome man on earth.
Women and gay men; close your eyes and picture the handsomest man you’ve ever seen in your life. Okay, now I was going to bet the farm here, and I have a really big farm, that your guy would pale into insignificance next to the beautiful man I saw lounging at that high top table.
I am neither a religious woman nor a scholar of the Bible, but what ran through my mind after my first, stunned look was still biblical in nature. Golden hair flowed past broad shoulders, golden-brown eyes sparkled, and golden skin gleamed. I was tempted to shout out he had to be a gilded angel sent from Heaven. I might have done, if I’d known for certain he wouldn’t beat me up for calling him such a pansy name, and if gilded angels seethed with strength and raw sexuality.
My God, the man was friggin’ hot!
With a critical second appraisal of what I could see, I approved of his heavenly body, too. No wings and, thank God, no halo, the man did not get that physique from gently strumming harps. His muscles had muscles. And dear, sweet baby Jesus save me, I was back up to staring at that amazing face again.
As I stood watching him, I begged forgiveness of my own brain. I take pride in being an independent, intelligent woman, however, this guy was so good, I was awestruck and my thoughts were ridiculously romancy.
If it’s true that our eyes are twin windows into the soul, then this man’s soul must burn with seductive sincerity. His fiery gold, speculative gaze penetrated to the very core of your secret womanhood. If that look didn’t have you wriggling in your chair, when you spoke he watched you with powerfully intense concentration. You were a mystery he’s yet to solve, but he was captivated.
He mused over you, and your eyes hungrily followed his long finger. It slowly smoothed the full lower lip on a wide, mobile mouth that seemed a little hard in repose. But that disquieting thought dispelled when he flashed a dazzling white grin. The grin elicited a breathless laugh from you sweeter than the bubbles rising in a glass of pink champagne. You must have said something extraordinarily witty to earn such a fabulous smile from such a man.
Fleetingly, he almost caressed your cheek with the same long finger in lazy response to your bubbly giddiness. You’re now sure this spectacular man has succumbed to your inner brilliance, which no other man has ever detected before. You proudly preen in reaction.
A thick, silky strand of golden hair then fell across his eyes, begging to be smoothed away. But with a casual flick of his masculine head, he tossed his long hair back. The man’s practiced move should annoy, but it didn’t. How could it when you were so caught up in his sensual smile, the smile that teased and promised to deliver dark delights, if only he chose you as the woman to receive his unleashed passion.
At least, that was my take on the younger man while I observed in amusement as he razzled-dazzled the four women at his table. It was true; I had been happily married and buried in the country for the last quarter century. However, that fact didn’t stop me from respecting the sheer size of the balls it took for the man to mutely seduce the four different women at his table--all at the same time. Of course, the size of his brain for choosing to do so was debatable. Luckily for my purposes, his IQ was not my concern.
#####
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Books by Tracy Ellen
(Available everywhere books are sold)
The Adventures of Anabel Axelrod Series
A Date with Fate
Volume I
Courted by Karma
Volume II
In Love by Design
Volume III
Adieu to Destiny
Volume IV
Family and Fortune
Volume V
Coupled with Chance
Volume VI (Available soon for Preorder, release in December 2015!)
The Undying Love Series:
Acadia’s Law: Book One
Acadia’s Revenge: Book Two (Coming soon!)
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Meet Tracy Ellen…
Tracy lives in the suburbs of St Paul, Minnesota with her husband and family. Besides writing stories, she loves to read zombie books, watch intelligent detective shows, see sci-fi movies on the big screen, cook and bake for her family, travel the back roads, play volleyball in pools--preferably shallow ones not deeper than five feet, play cards and any games where she can fiercely compete and pretend she wins, ask bizarre questions, tease nerds and geeks, get men riled up over politics and then run away, and take long walks on the beach, but she’ll settle for around the lakes in the Twin Cities most the year. No, seriously, she really does love this stuff. And bakeries. She absolutely loves bakeries. And laughter. Yeah, laughing with friends is right up there as her favorite thing to do in life.
Thank you!
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