“Werewolves have tempers too, but Jem’s boyfriend never punched her, and she deserved it.” She scratched the side of her head. “Jem tries his patience. She throws things at him.”
“I’m not asking for an apology.” He slammed his book shut with one hand. “I … I just thought you should know, that’s all. Being a lion does that sometimes. You know … the whole prideful beast of the jungle and all.”
The theme to George of the Jungle played in her head.
“But I meant what I said earlier.” Hector tossed his readers and his book on the coffee table. “You know … about Louis’s ex-wife. She was special with certain subjects. I could never explain shifter behaviors to her.”
Evelyn took a seat on the large couch. “You don’t sound too fond of her.”
“I’m not.” His tone cut through their cordial banter. “Marianne used him. As soon as Louie controlled his own finances, she ran.”
She clasped her hands together. “I see.”
“She tried taking everything away from him during the divorce. All he did was love her, but nothing—and I mean nothing—made her happy. She was controlling as shit, too. Bitch tried cutting him off from his friends and family by filling up his schedule with social events. Louie hates that shit.”
Evelyn scoffed.
No wonder he divorced her.
Aristocrats became snooty when it came to personal relationships outside their social class. Those rich snobs of society never accepted commoners inside of their gentleman’s club. Someone like Louis would never live up to their expectations no matter how much money he earned or saved. The moment they realized he grew up on an Indian reservation, they would despise him.
Just like actor Andy Chevelle when he cheated on his wife.
The local newspaper and the tabloids picked up on the sordid affair, interviewing the poor woman whose rich husband cheated on her. People posted their opinions on Twitter and Facebook. In the end, the woman got half of her husband’s wealth, gained custody of the kids, and forced the actor to pay a hefty sum in alimony and child support.
Evelyn leaned back, crossing her arms.
The rise to publicity would make her sick.
“I shouldn’t be upset about this, but the rich assholes try controlling us.” Hector gestured to her. “They’re real uppity about everyone and everything. They put everyone in a box and expect them to conform to their standards. It sucks when you’re the odd man out, you know?”
Well, well.
At least, they agreed on something.
“Marianne was always a rich bitch. They—the Richie Rich’s—put Louis and Marianne together during one of their charity parties. They weren’t right for each other. He always hated materialism. Then again, I’m pretty sure—”
“Could have fooled me.” She pointed to his wide-screen plasma television. “His house has everything. He has popcorn makers on every floor, too.”
He gave a biting laugh. “Yeah, well … Louis has to keep up appearances, you know.” Then a childish grin crossed his lips. “Besides, he lets his family visit. His native tribe, he calls them. It’s crazy when all those kids storm the house. He lets them do anything they want. They don’t have much on those reservations, so he treats them like kings and queens while they’re here.”
Evelyn hid a giggle.
What a sweetheart.
“He’s been through some rough shit, but Louie has a good heart.” He clapped a hand on his chest. “He donates to charities for literacy and medical science while putting some of those kiddos through school. When Marianne said he had to stop seeing the tribe, he put his foot down. That’s when he drew up the divorce papers.”
What a bitch. Family came first. If she could afford to go back to Puerto Rico, she would. She’d love for the chance to hug her mother again. Or her siblings. She missed them.
Louis and Marianne were a match made in hell.
But if he had such a humble upbringing, then why use an escort service for dating? To keep up appearances? Or was it Hector’s idea like those outrageous porn DVDs on his bookshelf?
Either way, it didn’t matter. He wanted a real relationship.
She couldn’t blame him.
Being single sucked.
“You’re different, though.” Hector’s happy-go-lucky attitude turned serious again. “You have fire to you. You have chemistry with Louie. He couldn’t touch Marianne without her throwing a conniption fit.”
“Bitch.” Her unspoken thought came out before Evelyn could stop herself. “I couldn’t imagine being in a loveless relationship.”
He rose, stretching his arms. “It happens all the time with these rich fogies.”
Her tone turned frosty. “I can imagine.”
“Anyway, I’ve said too much, but those assholes rub me the wrong way. Money isn’t everything, but they don’t run businesses like us. I’m sure you understand about not having enough time off, though.”
“Of course.” She put a finger against her bottom lip. “Ah … what do you do, exactly?”
“Several things.” He snagged a piece of butterscotch candy and popped it in his mouth. “By day, I manage a multimillion-dollar construction business designed to help shifters. By night, I’m a gambler. Online casinos to be precise.”
Evelyn pointed to the book on the table and snorted. “Of course. It suits your personality. Next, you’ll tell me all about being the wallflower at your high school prom and pining for your dream woman.”
“College, actually. Her name was Porscha.”
“Called it.”
“You’ll love what Louie has planned for me.”
She leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. “I’m listening.”
“Right. So…” He lowered his voice for dramatic effect. “We’re going into gambling together since the online casino business was such a hit. We’ve got a promising new lead and Louis swears betting on underground racing will be the next big fad.”
Evelyn’s nostrils flared.
Men never grew out of their frivolous sports.
“He claims he met her back in college, but she was a big star on TV before the Pres banned dangerous sports. I can’t remember her name, but I’m nervous about this.”
“Why?”
His eyes turned into judgmental slits. “Seriously? Don’t act stupid, girl. Everyone knows about the sports ban.”
Gambling itself wasn’t illegal, but the President went off his rocker when his son was killed in a hit-and-run accident. Once the investigation finished, they concluded a drunk racer was responsible. He got life in prison without parole, but President Maxim took it a step further.
He banned all dangerous sports.
The man started a smear campaign against racers that reminded Evelyn of political elections, using Twitter and newscasters to badmouth people. Before long, the media jumped on it, spinning the story out of control. When the ban finally happened, most of the United States forgot what happened in the first place.
Poor suckers.
They never knew they were being controlled.
“At the risk of sounding too forward…” She stretched out on the couch. “What is your actual job?”
The shifter scowled. “I told you, woman. I run a construction business and I’m setting up online gambling casinos. Those rake in money. So do shifter properties. They need places to live underground, you know.”
How could—when did—how did shifters live underneath Charm City?
She never heard of any shifter cities underground and she lived in this gritty city for the last fifteen years. Her shifters—if Jem’s werewolves could be called such—lived aboveground. Then again, humans shunned them. Maybe they lived underneath the city.
Sometimes, she’d rather remain oblivious to the struggles of the shifter community.
“Only those who are stupid, or rich, live aboveground. You mentioned a werewolf, so I assume he comes from old blood.” His voice turned aggressive. “The rich society is full of them�
��shifters included. In this regard, we’re equals.”
He gave her a free history lesson for a reason. Why? Was this part of Eisen’s lesson? To learn about the aristocrats of society?
Knowing her, Evelyn didn’t doubt it.
Her new boss didn’t hire stupid people.
“Hector, why are you telling me this?” She paused, then combed her fingers through her hair. “Are you feeling benevolent, or—”
“Well, you should know our history, girl.” He turned haughty. “Eisen’s investing in you, so you must be quick minded when deciding business matters for her. The rich aren’t so forgiving.”
Christ on a cracker. The old witch expected her to interact with aristocrats.
What else did she have planned for her?
“Eisen’s got a high-profile job as a business investor and interacts with most of high society. She’s needed an assistant for a while, but most of those girls she hired didn’t pan out.” He sat by her feet. “But I’m not kidding about those old fogies. They control a good portion of what we do.”
“This takes me back to my original question.” She grabbed his half-filled wine glass and swirled it in her hand. “What do you all do? Besides your day jobs. They’re cover-ups for something.”
He flashed his canines and his eyes gleamed. “Oh, that’s simple, girlie. We’re the enforcers of the black market.”
A heavy weight slammed into her chest.
The black market meant they participated in white-collar crimes. It meant dealing with shady people about sex trafficking and prostitution rings. It meant taking her innocent business and throwing it into one of their little Ponzi schemes.
The wine glass slipped from her nerveless fingers.
Glass shattered along the wooden floor, but the wine pooling underneath the couch didn’t matter. If they were on the same caliber as the sex trafficker who kidnapped her cousin, she’d have to walk from Louis’s deal. She couldn’t abandon Vixens for a potential boyfriend or a woman who blackmailed her with a car accident.
She had morals for Christ’s sake.
“Ah, E—Evelyn … I think you got the wrong idea, sweetheart.” Hector hugged her, making soothing noises while her hands shook. “We’re not into the horrible crimes you’re thinking of. You know … what you talked to Louie about in the kitchen earlier.”
“Then what do you do?”
He pushed shards of broken glass away from the couch. “Crimes relating to money.”
She flexed her stiff fingers. “Oh.”
“Yeah. Financial stuff, mostly. We’ve got morals, too.” He pulled away. “There’s a price for being part of high society, you know. They’ll blackmail us if we don’t cooperate with them.”
“Then how did they get a brave—”
He held up his hand. “One sec.”
Did his ears and nose just twitch?
Shifters fascinated her yet confused her at the same time. Some people considered Jem and herself shifters because of their superhuman strength, despite their lack of animalistic characteristics in their human forms. They fell into a gray area.
Okay, Jem didn’t count. She weighed two hundred and forty pounds and ate enough food to feed an entire family for one meal.
But most shifters shunned them and called them halflings behind their backs. One person referred to them as a racial slur while going to the movies last week. She showed him. She punched his windpipe and sent that moron to the hospital.
He got the point after that.
Still, in the seven years Evelyn knew Joe, his ears and nose never twitched at danger. Maybe they did. She never paid attention. All she knew was Joe handled business before the situation went south.
How he processed the news never mattered to her.
“Something isn’t right.” Hector tugged on her arm. “Come on. We should—”
One of the windows shattered.
Then gunshots came.
She flipped the couch and shoved Hector away, steering clear of the broken pieces of glass. Where were her knives when she needed them?
Oh, well. The couch would suffice as her weapon.
Louis would forgive her.
She peeked her head from around the corner. Where—no, who—were those bastards? How did she keep ending up in these unladylike situations?
Hector uppercut one raider, knocking him to the ground.
Of course, they wore ski masks.
Villains weren’t original any more.
One of the masked men came toward the couch, pointing a machine gun at her. Another man darted to her left.
Evelyn jumped to her feet, holding her hands up in mock surrender.
They inched closer.
Good. Those idiots fell for her trap.
Her fist connected with the first gunman’s nose, sending him back two steps. Then she grabbed his neck and kneed him in the stomach. Before he recovered, she elbowed him in the back of the head.
The man dropped his weapon, then crashed to the floor.
One down.
One more to go.
“The boss said you were a fighter.” Nameless gunman number two held his finger against the trigger. “She said you were a feisty bitch, too.”
She? Who the hell—
Alexia.
This was her handiwork.
“Come quietly and no one will get hurt.” He edged closer, straightening his shot. “Otherwise, you’ll—”
Hector hit the gunman with a fancy dining room chair.
“All these punks talk a big game.” The shifter stepped over the unconscious man. “You stopped the first punk with one punch, though. Shame about the chair. Over-decorated piece of shit. Louie’s gonna make me pay for another one.”
“Simon.” She spat out his name while clenching her fists. “I knew he’d come after me again.”
“Go upstairs and wake Louie up.” He pulled out his phone. “I’ve got a few phone calls to make.”
She bolted toward the stairs.
If her previous assistant was behind this attack, then she’d go straight for Louis first. That traitorous bitch always tried stealing her men. Jealousy became her.
Alexia wore that perfume well.
As Evelyn came up the stairs, another gunman ran toward her. He shot at her and missed. When his attack didn’t work, he ran at her.
She clotheslined him mid-stride.
His feet flew out from underneath him and he landed on his back. The gun slid by her feet.
Evelyn knelt behind him, then put him in a sleeper hold.
Her assailant went unconscious within seconds.
She rose to her feet and continued toward Louis’s bedroom. These punks couldn’t give her a good workout. She hoped Alexia gave her some decent entertainment.
Her assistant wouldn’t capture her boyfriend without fighting her first.
* * *
Louis cursed the vampire god Ambrogio for his cruel sense of humor.
He kept his eyes closed and held his breath, feigning sleep while the female intruder’s offensive perfume overrode her bitter natural scent. Jesus, it resembled ginger. Whatever made her jealous consumed her. She’d become soulless at this rate. Well, that or a demon hunter, but they fought hard to protect the last remnants of their souls.
They never warded away creatures with their foul stench.
He cracked one eye open, groaning at her auburn-colored hair.
Damn it. She’d become a soulless ginger.
Then she’d plague him for eternity.
She’s disgusting. What a shame. You need to eat soon, boy.
As if on cue, Louis’s mouth watered. If Miss Jealousy had invaded his bedroom, she had more men with her. More men meant more opportunities for a decent meal.
They couldn’t pass up free food.
She kept tip-toeing around his room, but her aura told him everything. She kept muttering about Evelyn. Her anger grew the longer she fantasied about her. Each devious plan she concocted made her giggle. It ruined her s
emi-advantageous stealth attack. Well, for a human.
Who was this crazy woman, anyway?
Why would a woman attack Evelyn? The only woman who had a legitimate issue with her settled their affairs a few hours ago. Maybe she pissed off someone else’s wife while working; escorting a client. Hector recounted some of his stories involving Evelyn once in a while.
After tonight, she’d stop seeing other men. Permanently.
Dealing with jealous women plucked his last nerve.
“She has to be here somewhere.” The woman circled around his bed. “There’s no way she’s shacked up with this loser yet.”
Loser? No way. He’d change Evelyn’s mind.
Especially if people kept coming after her.
She loomed over his bed and pulled the blankets away from him. Ginger and a bug spray Calvin Klein perfume came off her in waves. Calvin Klein made decent perfume, but its performance underwhelmed him. This bitch couldn’t pick out good perfume to save her life.
Then again, her leather renegade outfit needed work, too.
Louis cracked his right eye open, grabbed her arm and pulled her into his bed. He laughed while holding her arm in place.
The redhead held a pistol against his chest.
“Pitiful.” He wrapped his hand around the gun. “Human weapons are so weak.”
The gun glowed with a brilliant blue light, then disappeared.
“Now, then.” Within two moves, he shoved her onto the bed. “It’s rare that a woman comes into my room and aims a pistol at my chest.”
She squirmed against his grip. “Go to Hell.”
“I’ve already been there. Satan says I scare his Angels of Death shitless.”
“Simon was right about you.” His prisoner glared daggers at him. “You’re a grade A asshole like that Irving dickhead he works for.”
“And you, madam, stink to the high heavens.” He restrained her with his handcuffs. “Humans shouldn’t try wearing bug spray scented perfume. Then again, you reek of jealousy, so I’m not surprised. Now, why are you attacking Evie?”
“Evie?”
“Sorry. Evelyn.”
“The stupid bitch stole something from me.”
Vulture’s Kiss Page 15