The Nasty Vamp

by Gail Koger

  Scared shitless the driver scurried to his car, jumped in and tore off, running over the Duo-Glide and turning it into junk metal.

  “I’m so dead.”

  “I’ll buy him another one.”

  “Good luck with that.”

  The rumble of motorcycles engines grew louder and louder. I pried at Ian’s arm. “I need to hide.”

  “I will deal with the wolf.”

  “Your funeral.”

  Ben and the pack halted next to the pitiful remains of his bike. “God-dammit Ann.”

  “It wasn’t my fault.”

  “It never is.” He guided his bike over to us and brought it to a stop, two inches from the nasty vamp’s boots. “Give her to me.”

  McGregor shoved me behind him. “No. I’ll pay for the damages to your motorcycle.”

  “I don’t want your money. Ann, get on my bike.”

  I peered around McGregor. “Do you think I’m stupid or what?”

  My Alpha roared, “Get on the fucking bike!”

  I backed away. “No way. You’ll eat me.”

  Ben shoved the kick stand down and climbed off. “We can do this the easy way or the hard way.”

  McGregor pulled back his fist and then slammed it forward, knocking Ben down with one punch. “Guess it’ll have to be the hard way. Ann’s mine.”

  Bellowing in fury, Ben catapulted himself to his feet and lashed out with a solid side kick. His enormous boot caught Ian in the thigh, dropping him like a rock.

  Ian retaliated by kicking the wolf off his feet and the battle was on. The two men rolled over and over on the cement floor, pounding the crap out of each other.

  To my delighted relief, the pack gathered around the two idiots and totally ignored me. Testosterone did have it uses.

  I slowly edged my way over to a large cable box, popped it open and pulled out my emergency bag and boy was this an emergency. Reaching inside, I grabbed a Howler and a set of earplugs.

  A low growl sounded behind me. I quickly stuffed the earplugs in and turned.

  Deacon, Ben’s second-in-command stood there, fangs bared menacingly. He held out his massive hand.

  I pulled the pin on the Howler and tossed it to him. “Here you go, enjoy.”

  The high-pitched frequency it emitted immediately dropped Deacon to his knees and brought an abrupt halt to the fight. Hands clamped over their ears, the pack and the nasty vamp howled in agony.

  Okay, some days I could be a real bitch, but if they just left me alone none of this would have happened. Ignoring their murderous glares, I quickly climbed on Ben’s battered bike and rode off.

  A wave of exhaustion rolled over me. All I wanted to do was go home have a nice hot shower, eat a ton of chocolate and go to bed. Was that gonna happen? Hell no. I’d be lucky to live to see tomorrow.

  A police car cruised slowly down the street, it spotlight searching the dark corners of the buildings.

  I stopped the bike in the shadows and rubbed my aching forehead. How had my life gotten so screwed up? Oh wait, it was my shitty decisions. Like thinking if I could just slay all the monsters, another little girl wouldn’t have to watch her mother being murdered. Or maybe it was being such a drunken bone head on my twenty-first birthday that I let McGregor seduce me?

  Let’s not forget the major blunder of allowing Aunt Tessa to talk me into becoming Bambi’s Alfred. Yeah, that was really working out. I wiped at the tears rolling down my cheeks. God, I was such a wuss.

  I pulled out my earplugs and groaned, the Howler had stopped. I had about a minute or two before things got really interesting.

  The patrol car finally turned the corner. Gunning the bike, I headed for the Rio Verde casino to pick up my gear.

  Once all the hoopla died down, I’d make a quick visit to my snitch, Tiny Tim, get the information I need on that monster McCabe and get the hell out of Vegas.

  With an evil grin, I dumped the Hog in front of El Gato, the neighborhood’s gang banger bar. The blaring rap music was so loud it rattled the surrounding windows. Every inch of the shabby building was covered in red and black spray painted obscenities and graffiti.

  The lookout was a bulky Hispanic guy whose face was a roadmap of gang tattoos. He thrust his hips at me and made some kind of lewd comment. Like I could hear him over the music?

  I hurried down the garbage strewn sidewalk and stepped right onto a pile of dog poop. Ewww. Could this night get any worse? I scraped my right foot across the sidewalk and managed to get most of the smelly shit off. At least the disgusting stuff would disguise my scent.

  Ben’s finely tuned Harley rumbled to life. I loved it when a plan came together. This gang ran a chop shop specializing in high-dollar motorcycles and I knew there was no way they could resist my Alpha’s tricked out pride and joy. They would have it stripped before you could say adios amigo and my revenge would be complete.

  A wolf howled. Within seconds the entire pack joined in, drowning out the rap music. Then again, maybe not. Ben and the pack were very efficient predators and once they were on the trail of their prey, they never ever stopped.

  Shots rang out. The howling turned to terrifying snarls and growls. Men started screaming and some moron opened up with an automatic weapon.

  Guess the Pack had found the chop shop and unless the gang had silver bullets, which I doubted, things were going to get really ugly.

  The gunfire was replaced by blood curdling shrieks.

  Time for plan B. I dug a skunk bomb out of my emergency bag, set the timer, dropped it on the sidewalk and ran like hell.

  The night was suddenly eerily quiet.

  Whoa! In less than five minutes they had eradicated one of the deadliest street gangs in Vegas. I broke into a little dance. “When the pack attacks, the bad guys scream. Sic’em. Sic’em. Sic’em. Gooo Ben.” Okay, I’ll admit that I’m kinda sick and twisted but in this line of work you’ve got to keep your sense of humor. Right?

  Sixty seconds later my bomb blew, spewing a cloud of noxious fumes across the street.

  Wrinkling my nose at the awful stench, I quickly slipped inside the stage door of the Rio. Well that explained why McGregor was so pissed about his car. I had added way too much skunk oil to that batch.

  Your foolish games stop now. Dominic’s jet is two hours out. Tell me where are and I will come for you.

  A delighted grin curled my mouth. The Howler screwed up your psychic abilities and you don’t have a freakin’ clue where I’m at, do you? Damn, what a shame.

  How did the wolf put it? Ah, yes, we can do this the easy way or the hard way.

  A finger of cold dread snaked up my back at the implacable resolve in his voice. I had pushed him a little too far and all hell was about to break loose. I bolted down the hallway and darted inside Roxy’s dressing room. Bring it on asshole.

  As you wish.

  Shards of pain exploded in my body, dropping me to my knees. Holy shit, it felt like my innards were being ripped out. You sick bastard that hurts!

  Do you really think I would allow Dominic to take you?

  I sucked in a shuddering breath. Dominic wants me to lead him to McCabe, too?

  He wants you for his mate.

  What?!

  Tell me where you are.

  Never. A scream tore from me as the pain turned into mindbending agony. I fought back the blackness threatening to consume me. If I lost consciousness, the battle was over. My breath coming in sobbing pants, I crawled over to the trunk in the corner of the room and reached inside.

  Tell me where you are and the pain stops.

  Liar. It won’t…Stop until you turn me into a… Mindless zombie. Two trembling fingers closed around a zippered side pocket in my pants.

  McGregor growled with frustration. Mindless zombie? All I want from you is obedience.

  Good luck with that. The second my fingers touched the amulet tucked inside, the pain vanished. I sagged in relief. The first chance I got, I was introducing fang boy to Mister Pointy.


  McGregor hissed in disbelief. You have the Shivait amulet!

  Surprise?

  Where did you get it?

  Like I would tell him? Bought it from an old gypsy woman.

  That’s a load of shite.

  Shite? Is that like shit? I could actually hear him grind his teeth.

  The Shivait amulet was stolen a year ago from Kane’s personal vault.

  Imagine that. Someone actually broke into his castle and lived to tell about it.

  His anger lashed my mind. Did you take it? You were in Scotland at the time.

  Me?! Hell no. I was busy blowing up your cars, remember?

  A lie buried in the truth. You were involved.

  Great. Now I had my own personal lie detector. The bossy jerk was one hundred percent correct. I was involved. I personally did not take the amulet from Kane’s vault.

  Maybe not, but you know who did.

  Ya think?

  Sooner or later you will tell me.

  Can’t tell you what I don’t know. Like I’d snitch out Uncle Fester.

  When I find you, I’m…

  I severed the link and got carefully to my feet. I was in serious need of another miracle.

  McGregor popped back into my head. I’ve never believed in beating a woman but in your case…

  I quickly put the amulet around my neck and just like that silence reigned. A sigh broke from me as I rubbed my aching head. Blessed peace. Of course it wasn’t going to last. The Shivait did a terrific job of inhibiting a vampire’s ability to mess with me but there was a downside. It shut down my psychic abilities, too. I would be running blind.

  My knees threatening to buckle, I pulled my gear out of the trunk and suited up. Running was definitely going to be a problem. Hell, who was I kidding? Walking was going to be challenge. On the bright side, I might even make it a couple of blocks before the Pack found and ate me.

  Chapter Six

  Thankfully there was a bumper crop of tourists to disguise my scent. As I wobbled my way down the crowded sidewalks not a one of them paid the slightest bit of attention to my combat gear. Go figure.

  A woman suddenly screamed, “Wolves!”

  I looked around nervously.

  The tourists surged forward for a better look.

  “Get a picture of them, Amy,” a man instructed.

  “Great special effects,” another man said.

  “Dude, it growled at me,” a teenager giggled.

  These morons actually thought the pack were a tourist attraction? I pushed and shoved my way through the crowd. I had to get out of here. “Excuse me. Let me through.”

  A small kid ogled my outfit asked, “You part of the show?”

  I put a finger to my lips. “Sssh, I’m hunting the wolves and I need to sneak around behind them.” And just like that, the crowd parted, giving me access to the front door of the Bellagio Hotel. I bolted inside.

  The wolves howled in fury and charged after me.

  The tourists suddenly realized they weren’t a holographic special effect, took one look at their enormous fangs, screamed blue bloody murder and stampeded into the Bellagio.

  Just like that I had another miracle. “Thank you Lord, great diversion.” Behind me all hell broke loose as the wolves forced their way in and the panic-stricken people ran in every direction.

  I burst out the back door gasping for air like a stranded guppy. The nasty vamp had really done a number on me. A hand on the butt of my gun, I tottered down the alley, trying doors. Finally finding a door that opened, I slipped inside and was greeted by bump and grind music. Great, a titty bar.

  Everything spun dizzily around me. Stumbling to a stop by the stage, I leaned wearily against the wall and watched the dancer jerk spasmodically around the pole. Was the poor thing having a seizure? Should I call 9-1-1? Or was she just a really bad dancer?

  Why did she look so familiar? I rubbed my eyes and took another look. My jaw dropped in astonishment. No freakin’ way! She couldn’t. She wouldn’t. Oh God, she had.

  Bambi’s humongous breasts bobbed wildly as humped her way up the pole like an inebriated caterpillar.

  The men in the audience hooted and hollered.

  My temper snapped and I stalked out on the stage. “Are you insane? Get down. Now!”

  Bambi glared at me. “Go away this is my big break.”

  Dozens of cockroaches scurried over my boots and I did a tap dance on their little asses. “Big break!? In a cockroach infested titty bar?”

  “I’ve always wanted to be a Vegas show girl.”

  “This isn’t Caesar’s Palace.”

  A man shouted, “Hey, ain’t ya the babe on bike?”

  Another guy yelled, “Yeah, it’s her. Show us your knockers, sweetheart.”

  God, just kill me now.

  Bambi slid down the pole and shrieked, “You’re ruining my dance number!”

  “You can thank me later.”

  A big mountain of a man stormed out and grabbed my arm. “Show them your tits or get off the fucking stage.”

  My jaw clenched and I hissed, “Let go of my arm or I’m going to do the world a favor and neuter you.”

  The idiot smirked. “You’re kinda itty-bitty to be making threats, darlin’.”

  I bared my teeth at him. “Size doesn’t matter when you’re dealing with morons, darlin’.” My right hand fondled the hilt of my nice sharp knife.

  “Omigod! Not the knife,” Bambi cried in horror.

  Okay, fine. I punched him in the groin instead.

  Howling in pain, the mountain dropped to his knees.

  Another gorilla charged me. “You fucking bitch!”

  I zapped him in the nuts with my Taser. A satisfied smile tugged at my mouth as he flopped around, screaming like a little girl. My smile died. Oh God, I was turning into a psychotic bitch.

  Bambi snapped, “You always spoil my plans.”

  I turned to the reason for my psychotic episodes. “You’re supposed to be on patrol.”

  “Bernie’s doing it.”

  “Bernie’s a friggin’ rookie.”

  “So?”

  “He dies and so help me God; I’m shooting your ass.”

  The bouncer struggled to his feet and hissed at Bambi, “Get out! You’re fired.”

  “You can’t fire me.”

  “The hell I can’t. You dance like a fucking retard and you have Granny boobs.”

  “Granny boobs?” Bambi let out a howl of rage, picked up the three-hundred pound bouncer like he was a baby and tossed him across the crowded room.

  I watched in astonishment as the bouncer crashed onto a table, flipping it over and spilling the drinks onto the laps of the rather startled men.

  “Whoa! I’m seriously impressed, Bambi.”

  Bambi snarled, “Granny boobs?” She grabbed the moaning gorilla off the floor and hurled him at the bar. He smashed face first into the mirror, shattering it and toppled to the floor, out cold.

  Psychotic bitches must be a genetic thing.

  The bartender with a rather attractive comb over and beer gut that would give a pregnant woman a run for her money grabbed a baseball bat and started for us.

  “I think we’d better leave.”

  “They insulted my girls,” Bambi snapped.

  “Who cares, let’s get out of here.”

  The next thing I knew I was flying through the air. I turned my forward momentum into a fast tuck and roll and landed on my feet. The little princess was so dead.