How to Marry a Millionaire Vampire las-1

by Kerrelyn Sparks

  Shanna rubbed her brow. In the distance, she heard honking cars and the wail of an ambulance siren. No need for those in the afterlife. She was definitely still alive. But where?

  She opened her eyes and beheld a night sky, stars partially hidden with mist. A breeze ruffled her hair against her cheek. She looked to her right. A rooftop? She was stretched out on patio furniture.

  How did she get here? She looked to her left.

  Him. The psycho customer with the wolf tooth. He must have brought her here, and he was coming toward her right now. She scrambled to get off the chaise lounge and gasped when the flimsy furniture started to tip.

  "Careful." He was there immediately, startling her when he grabbed her arms. How did he reach her so quickly?

  The pain in her head dropped a few degrees colder. His grip on her was firm. Possessive. "Let me go."

  "Fine." He released her and straightened to his full height.

  Shanna gulped. She hadn't realized he was so tall. And big.

  "You may thank me later for saving your life."

  That voice again. Low and sexy. So beguiling, but she wasn't in the mood to trust anyone right now.

  "I'll send you a card."

  "You don't trust me."

  Perceptive, wasn't he? "Why should I? As far as I can tell, you've abducted me. Without my permission."

  His mouth tilted up. "Do you normally give your permission?"

  She glared at him. "Where have you taken me?"

  "We're across the street from your clinic." He sauntered toward the ledge. "Since you don't trust me, take a look for yourself."

  Right, stand on the edge of the roof with a psycho. No way. She'd been stupid enough, fainting in the clinic when she should have been running. She couldn't afford any more moments of weakness like that. The gorgeous man must have carried her out. He really had saved her life. He was tall, dark, handsome, and heroic. Altogether perfect, except for the fact that he wanted a wolf's canine tooth jammed into his mouth. Did he labor under the misconception that he was Wolfman? Was that why her gun hadn't scared him? Only silver bullets could hurt him. She wondered if he was going to howl at the moon.

  Get a grip. She rubbed her aching forehead. She needed to stop imagining nonsense and figure out what to do next.

  She noticed her purse, sitting by her feet. Hallelujah! She set the purse in her lap and peeked inside.

  Yes! The Beretta was still there. She could still defend herself. Even against the gorgeous Wolfman if she had to.

  "They're still down there if you want to see them." He glanced back at her.

  She snapped her purse shut and gave him a wide-eyed Bambi look. "Who?"

  His gaze flickered down to her purse, then back to her face. "The men who want to kill you."

  "Well, actually, I think I've seen enough of them today. So I'll just be going now." She eased to her feet.

  "If you leave now, they'll catch you."

  That was probably true. But was she any safer on a roof with a gorgeous escapee from a mental institute? She clutched her purse to her chest. "Okay. I'll stay for a little while."

  "Good." His voice softened. "I'll stay with you."

  She backed away, putting the patio furniture between them. "Why did you rescue me?"

  He smiled slowly. "I need a dentist."

  Not with a smile like that. Damn. A smile like that could melt a woman into a puddle of quivering hormones. I'm melting, I'm melting. "How… how did you get me up here?"

  His eyes glimmered in the dark. "I carried you."

  She gulped. Obviously a few extra pizza pounds hadn't overly strained the guy. "You carried me all the way to the roof?"

  "I… used the elevator." He pulled a cell phone from his back pocket. "I'll call someone to pick us up."

  Us? Who was he kidding? She didn't trust him any farther than she could spit. But he had saved her from the hit men. And so far, he'd behaved like a gentleman. She ventured toward the edge of the building, keeping a safe distance from the mysterious rescuer.

  She glanced down. Wow, he'd been honest with her. They were across the street from the clinic.

  Three black sedans were double-parked in the street, and a group of men stood there, talking.

  Planning how to kill her. She was so screwed. Maybe she could use an ally. Maybe she should trust the crazy but gorgeous Wolfman.

  "Radinka?" He held the cell phone against his cheek. "Can you give me Laszlo's cell phone number?"

  Radinka? Laszlo? Were those Russian names? Her skin chilled with goose bumps. Oh God. Big trouble. This guy was probably pretending to be her friend so he could lure her away from the city and—

  "Thanks, Radinka." He punched in a new number.

  Shanna looked around and located the stairway entrance. Now, if she could just ease over there without him noticing.

  "Laszlo." His voice became authoritative. "Bring the car back immediately. We have an emergency situation here."

  Shanna moved slowly. Quietly.

  "No, you don't have time to go to the lab. Turn around now." A slight pause. "No, I didn't get the tooth fixed. But I have the dentist with me." He glanced her way.

  She froze and tried to look bored. Maybe she should hum a tune, but all that came to mind was the one she'd heard earlier in the evening. "Strangers in the Night." Well, that fit.

  "Have you turned around yet?" Wolfman sounded irritated. "Good. Now, listen carefully. Do not, I repeat, do not drive past the clinic. Go one block north of the clinic, and we'll meet you there. Do you understand?"

  Another pause. He turned to look over the ledge. Shanna resumed her stealthy approach to the stairway.

  "I'll explain later. Just follow my directions, and we'll be safe."

  She slipped past the patio furniture.

  "I know you're just a chemist, but I have full confidence in your abilities. Remember, we don't want anyone else to know about this. And now that I think about it, is our… passenger still in the car with you?" Wolfman walked toward the corner of the building, keeping his back to her and his voice low.

  So the rascal didn't want her to hear this. Can you hear me now? The phrase goaded her. No, she couldn't hear,dammit. Quickly she tiptoed after him. Her old ballet teacher would have been impressed with her speed.

  "Look, Laszlo. I'll have the dentist with me, and I don't want to alarm her any more than necessary.

  So take Vanna out of the backseat and stick her in the trunk."

  Shanna halted. Her mouth dropped open. Her throat seized up, making it hard to breathe.

  "I don't care how much crap you have in the trunk. We're not driving around with a naked body in the car."

  Oh no! She gasped for air. He was a hit man.

  He whirled around suddenly to face her. With a strangled squeak, she leaped back.

  "Shanna?" He turned off the phone and held it out to her.

  "Stay away from me." She backed away, fumbling in her purse.

  He frowned. "Don't you want your phone back?"

  That was her phone? He was a murderer and a thief. She yanked out her Beretta and pointed it at him. "Don't move."

  "Not that again. I can't help you if you keep fighting me."

  "Yeah, like you really want to help me." She eased toward the staircase. "I heard you talking to your friend. 'Oh, Laszlo, we have company. Put the dead body in the trunk. "

  "It's not what you think."

  "I'm not stupid, Wolfman." She continued to move toward the stairs. At least he was staying put and not making any moves. "I should have shot you the first time."

  "Do not fire the weapon. The men below will hear it. They'll come up here, and I'm not sure I can defeat all of them."

  "All of them? My, don't we think highly of ourselves."

  His eyes darkened. "I have some special talents."

  "Oh, I bet you do. I bet that poor girl in the trunk could say a lot about your special talents."

  "She's incapable of speech."

  "Well, duh! On
ce you kill someone, they tend to be lousy conversationalists."

  His mouth twitched.

  She reached the stairway door. "If you come after me, I'll kill you."

  She pulled the door open, but in the blink of an eye, he was there. He slammed the door shut, wrenched the gun from her hand, and tossed it aside. It hit with a clunk and skittered across the rooftop. She squirmed, wiggled, kicked at his shins. He grabbed her by the wrists and pinned her against the door.

  "By God, woman, you are hard to control."

  "You better believe it." She pulled against his grip, but couldn't free her wrists.

  He leaned closer. His breath stirred her hair and feathered her brow. "Shanna," he whispered her name like a cool breeze.

  She shivered. His hypnotic voice tugged at her, lulling her into a sensation of comfort and security.

  False security. "I won't let you kill me."

  "I don't want to kill you."

  "Good. Then let me go."

  He lowered his head, his breath tickling her throat. "I want you alive. Warm and alive."

  Another shiver zigzagged through her body. Oh God, he was going to touch her. Maybe even kiss her. She waited, her heart hammering in her chest.

  His voice whispered in her ear, "I need you."

  She opened her mouth, then snapped it shut when she realized how close she'd come to saying yes.

  He moved back, still gripping her wrists. "I need you to trust me, Shanna. I can protect you."

  Her headache returned with a vengeance, cold pain stabbing at her temples. She gathered all her strength, every fiber of resistance, and rammed her knee into his groin.

  Breath whooshed out of him, strangling his shout before it could erupt from this throat. Only a few garbled croaks emerged. He doubled over and fell to his knees. His complexion, pale before, turned a mottled red.

  Shanna winced. She'd gotten him good. She spotted her gun beneath the patio table and ran to collect it.

  "Holy Mother of God!" he gasped, supporting himself on all fours. "That hurts like hell."

  "It's supposed to, big guy." She dropped her Beretta back in her purse, then sprinted for the staircase.

  "I never—no one's ever done that to me." He gazed up at her, his contorted expression of pain mellowing into a look of stunned wonder. "Why?"

  "Just one of my special talents." She stopped at the staircase door and grasped the knob. "Don't follow me. Next time, I'll shoot you down there." The door opened with a loud, scraping noise.

  She stepped onto the stairway landing and let go of the door. With a loud creak, it started to swing shut. She was halfway down the stairs when it closed with a final bang and left her in total darkness.

  Great. She slowed her pace. The last thing she wanted was to act like one of those girls in the movies, always tripping and twisting her ankle, then lying there helpless and screaming when the bad guy arrived. The banister ended, and she was on the bottom landing. She inched forward with her hands stretched out until she reached the door.

  She yanked the door open and was greeted by light. The hallway was empty. Good. She ran to the elevator. A sign dangled in front of the metal doors. Out of Order. Damn! She glanced back over her shoulder. So the scumbag had lied to her. He couldn't have brought her up the elevator. She looked around for a service elevator, but couldn't see one. However he'd gotten her on the roof, she didn't have time to worry about it.

  She located the central stairwell. Thank God it was lit inside. She rushed down the flights of stairs and reached the ground floor. There was no noise behind her. Thank God. It appeared that Wolfman was not giving chase. She inched open the stairwell door and peered outside. The lobby was dimly lit and empty. The building's main entrance boasted two glass doors. Through them, she could see the black cars and hit men.

  She slipped into the lobby, and hugging the walls, she retreated toward the back entrance. The glowing red exit sign called to her like a beacon, promising freedom. Safety. She'd find a taxi, go to some obscure little hotel, and then, in the safety of her room, she'd call Bob Mendoza again. And if the U.S. marshal was still missing, she'd empty her bank account in the morning and take a train somewhere. Anywhere.

  She peeked outside, saw no one, then exited the building. Immediately a strong arm encircled her waist and pulled her back against a rock-hard body. A hand smacked across her mouth in an iron grip. She kicked at his shins and stomped on his feet.

  "Stop it, Shanna. It's me," a now familiar voice whispered in her ear.

  The Wolfman? How could he have beaten her down the stairs? She moaned her frustration against his hand.

  "Come on." He pulled her down the street, past a row of empty umbrella tables. A banner fluttered overhead, announcing the name of the bistro. The next shop had a glass storefront, lined with burglar bars. He dragged her into the recessed doorway. The awning overhead shaded them from the street lamps. "Laszlo will be here soon. Just stay quiet until he arrives."

  She shook her head, trying to dislodge his hand.

  "Can you breathe all right?" He sounded concerned.

  She shook her head again.

  "You won't scream if I let go? I'm sorry, but I can't have you making noise with the hit men so close." He loosened his grip.

  "I'm not that stupid," she mumbled against his palm.

  "I think you're very intelligent, but you're also in deep shit. That kind of stress can cause anyone to make a bad move."

  She turned her head to see his face. His jaw was strong and lean. His eyes were focused on the street, no doubt scanning for danger. "Who are you?" she whispered.

  He glanced down, and a ghost of a smile haunted his wide mouth. "I'm someone who needs a dentist."

  "Don't lie to me. There's a gajillion dentists out there."

  "I'm not lying."

  "You lied about the elevator. It's out of order. I had to use the stairs."

  His mouth tightened, and he resumed his search for danger without bothering to answer.

  "How did you get here so fast?"

  "Does it matter? I want to protect you."

  "Why? Why should you care?"

  He paused. "It's complicated." He looked at her, and the pain in his eyes took her breath away.

  Whoever this man was, he understood suffering.

  "You're not going to hurt me?"

  "No, sweetness. I've had my fill of causing pain." He smiled sadly. "Besides, if I really wanted to kill you, I could have done it a dozen times by now."

  "How reassuring." She shuddered, and his arms tightened around her.

  Across the street, a neon sign glowed. The neighborhood psychic was still open for business.

  Shanna considered making a wild dash across the street and calling the police. Or maybe she should ask about her future. Did she even have one, or had her lifeline run out? Strange, but she didn't feel endangered. The Wolfman's arms were strong.

  The chest she was leaning against was broad and solid. And he claimed he wanted to protect her.

  She'd been so alone lately. She wanted to trust him.

  She took a deep breath to calm her nerves and coughed. "Jeez, it stinks here. What is this place?"

  "A cigar shop. I gather you don't smoke?"

  "No. Do you?"

  He smiled wryly. "Only if I'm out in the sun."

  Huh? Before she could respond, a dark green car drove past them, and Wolfman started dragging her toward the curb.

  "That's Laszlo." He waved to get his friend's attention.

  The green Honda Accord pulled over to double-park. The Wolfman strode toward it, pulling Shanna with him.

  Should she really trust him? Once she got into a car with him, how could she escape? "Who is this Laszlo? Is he Russian?"

  "No."

  "His name doesn't sound very American."

  Wolfman lifted a brow as if he found her comment annoying. "He's Hungarian, originally."

  "And you?"

  "American."

  "You were born here?"
>
  Now both brows went up. He was definitely annoyed. But he did have a slight accent, and she'd rather be safe than sorry.

  The man inside the Honda fumbled around, and the trunk popped open a few inches. Shanna jumped, suddenly remembering there might be a body inside.

  "Relax." Wolfman tightened his grip on her.

  "Are you kidding?" She tried to jerk away, but her attempt failed miserably. "Don't you have a dead body in there?"

  He sighed. "God help me. I suppose I deserve this."

  A short man in a white lab coat scrambled out of the green Honda. "Oh, there you are, sir. I came as quickly as I could." He noticed Shanna and fingered a button on his lab coat. "Good evening, miss.

  You're the dentist?"

  "She is." Wolfman glanced over his shoulder. "We're in a hurry, Laszlo."

  "Yes, sir." Laszlo opened the back door and leaned inside. "I'll get Vanna out of your way." He straightened, dragging a woman's naked body from the backseat. Shanna gasped.

  Wolfman clapped a hand over her mouth. "She's not real."

  Shanna struggled to escape, but he pulled her against his chest and held tight.

  "Look at her, Shanna. She's a toy, a human-sized toy."

  Laszlo noticed her distress. "He's right, miss. She's not real." He pulled the wig off her head, then plopped it back on.

  Oh God. Her Wolfman was not a killer. He was a pervert.

  She elbowed Wolfman in the stomach, and catching him by surprise, she managed to pull away from his grasp.

  "Shanna." He made a grab for her, and she jumped back.

  "Stay away from me, you pervert."

  "What?"

  She pointed at the doll that Laszlo was shoving into the trunk. "Any man with a toy like that has got to be a pervert."

  Wolfman blinked. "It… it's not my car."

  "And it's not your toy?"

  "No." He glanced back. "Shit!" He seized her and shoved her toward the car. "Get in."

  "Why?" She grabbed each side of the doorway and locked her elbows. This was the maneuver that always worked in the cartoons when a cat didn't want to be pushed into a tub of water.

  Wolfman moved to her side, blocking her view. "A black car is turning onto this street. We can't let them see you."

  A black car? Black sedan or green Honda. Those appeared to be her choices. God help her that she was making the right decision. She climbed into the backseat of the Honda Accord and set her purse on the floor. She looked out the back window, but couldn't see a black car. Laszlo still had the trunk up.