by E A Price
The voices laughed and started chatting. They were speaking Chinese; she realized they must belong to chefs from the Chinese restaurant a few doors down from the club. Chefs who had just gotten rid of what appeared to be some variety of fish soup.
Right, as if she needed this to get any worse than it already was!
Alma turned her head slightly, to find herself staring into the dead, glassy eyes of a fish head. Ugh! She started flailing around, uncaring as to who heard her. She had to get out of there that very second!
She pushed open the lid of the dumpster to be met with her frantic looking mate. He stared at her in shock for a few seconds before mirth passed over his handsome face.
“Don’t you dare laugh at me!” she warned, menacingly.
She hurled her shoes and purse at him before allowing him to lift her out. She smelt of rotten fish and was covered in scales and noodles. His face twitched; he was perilously close to laughing.
He opened his mouth to say something when Alma cut him off. “Not a single word, vampire. I need a shower, stat.”
Chapter Eighteen
“Look, there he is, that must be the package James mentioned on the phone.” Viktor inclined his head toward the portly, Alma loved that word now, badger shifter. The badger was standing outside his house in a robe, signing for a thin, manila envelope.
Alma squinted through the binoculars; lucky vampire didn’t need them.
She quickly put the binoculars down again. “I wish you’d warned me his robe wasn’t tied, I can make out everything.”
The vampire chuckled. “Just imagine how the poor delivery girl feels.”
“I’d rather not…”
They were camped outside of Adrian Harlot-Jenkins’ house, a gaudy three-floor structure fashioned on the Parthenon. It looked more than a little out of place surrounded by the fashionable beach houses.
Alma and Viktor were parked a little way down to the street. It was their intention to follow Adrian Harlot-Jenkins.
*
After they arrived home at Alma’s apartment the previous night, when Alma had showered, and Viktor had stopped laughing, they sifted through the information downloaded on the memory drive. They hit pay dirt.
Thankfully, James was not overly concerned with computer security, so had happily left a wealth of information on his computer unencrypted. Probably too arrogant to think anyone could actually get into his office at all. Alma would have gloated in James’ face if he had been there, whilst hiding behind Viktor, of course.
They found files named after various Council members. One was named after the flamingo shifter on the Council. No kidding, there actually was an actual flamingo shifter on the Council! Alma almost laughed herself silly, out of all the shifters in the world, people had trouble taking them seriously, something to do with them being pink… The flamingo had evidently added an additional story to her mansion house without planning permission.
The second file was named for the dolphin shifter. His son had embezzled money out of his real estate company to fund a gambling addiction. According to the information, the son had actually retrieved the money, and the company was back on track.
The third file detailed how the witch member used to sell love potions in college; it was a slap on the wrist and community service offense, although the statute of limitations had run out on that anyway.
When Alma read through all this, she frowned. As embarrassing as these things were, they were hardly explosive, breaking news. As she read through each file in turn, Alma almost dislocated her jaw from yawning so much.
She clearly missed the point, because Viktor had looked deadly serious. He explained that they weren’t necessarily arrestable offenses, but they were potentially damaging enough that the Council members might be forced to step down from their positions. He doubted any of them wanted that.
Alma hummed as he scrolled through the files, deciding which to look at next, when a name caught her eye, the title of the folder was, ‘Harlot-Jenkins.’
She tapped his arm. “Ooh, click on that file, I heard the assistant mention his name when I was hiding in the closet of doom.”
Viktor bristled at the mention of her being in James’ office; he was still beating himself up for even allowing her into that club. Alma, with all her usual delicacy and tenderness, told him to suck it the hell up.
The file opened to reveal several lurid photos of two men, in bondage gear, and en flagrante.
Viktor sucked in a pointless breath.
Alma’s brow creased in confusion. “What? I’ll bet Julian’s had way more kinkier sex than this.”
“Undoubtedly, but Julian doesn’t have six kids and isn’t married to a ruthless divorce attorney.”
“Oh.”
“Oh, indeed. That’s Adrian Harlot-Jenkins, he’s a badger shifter, and he’s been on the Council for ten years. From what I understand, his wife has all the money, and he just does as he’s told.”
Alma rubbed her lip thoughtfully. “Oh, dear. Who’s the other guy?”
Viktor looked at her, baffled. “How would I know?”
Alma threw up her arms. “Well, you knew who Adrian Hairless-Whatever was, why wouldn’t you know the other guy too?”
The vampire shrugged. “Well, first of all, the name of the file was Harlot-Jenkins, and secondly, he’s a well-known man. This other guy could be anyone, although,” he peered at the screen, “I would guess he’s a snake shifter, judging by the size of his…”
“Stop! I don’t want to know; I’ll just take your word for it.”
Viktor bit back a chuckle. “What exactly did the assistant say?”
“Nothing really, something about a package being delivered tomorrow morning. Do you think maybe he’s sending him copies of the photos? Do you think James wants money?” she asked eagerly.
Viktor pursed his lips. “James already has money, why would he ask for more and risk getting sent to prison for it?”
“I don’t know, for some people, they can never have enough.” She leaned her head on his shoulder and brushed her lips over his skin, sending tremors throughout his muscled frame. “Maybe he’s stockpiling it, so he can do a Scrooge McDuck and dive into it.”
Viktor laughed and circled an arm round her supple body, drawing her nearer before kissing her upturned nose. “Yes, my darling, I think you’ve cracked it.”
She snuggled against him. “It does seem odd that he has so much information over nearly all the Council members in his possession. It has to be about the Council.”
“I agree,” he murmured as his fingers slowly worked their way under the pajama top. “I just can’t see what James’ endgame is. It is so unlike him to want to get involved in politics. He always used to say that he was waiting for the humans to ruin the world and destroy themselves, so that the vampires would inherit the earth.”
“Hmmm, how lovely.” Alma moaned as his hand sought her breast and massaged her hard nipple. “Do you think maybe James wants to replace Julian as the vampire Council member?” She panted slightly, trying to retain her composure. Not an easy feat.
Viktor smoothly turned her and laid her back on the couch. He lifted her shirt up and smothered kisses on her stomach, licking her belly button and nibbling on her hip bone.
“I doubt it,” he murmured in between kisses, “the idea of discussing matters with shifters and witches, and listening to their opinions wouldn’t appeal to James.”
“Oooh… so umm, what should… what should… we…” Her chest heaved as Viktor divested her of her shorts.
He gave her a toothy grin. Damn smug vampire. “I think perhaps we should see what our friend Mr. Harlot-Jenkins is doing.”
“Right now?” Alma couldn’t keep the disappointment out of her voice.
She quivered as he ran a claw up and down the smooth skin of her thigh. “No, tomorrow,” he purred.
*
Alma had not been happy about Viktor going out in the daytime. He did, however, promise to stay in
his tinted-window car at all times and wear sunglasses. She had tried to argue, but much to her chagrin he pointed out that he was supposed just to sit by while she did something dangerous, so she couldn’t object to him doing something equally dangerous.
She did try to object though, stating that the two situations were completely different. Viktor agreed; hers was much worse. At least he could heal himself if he got a bit of sunburn, she couldn’t heal from having her throat ripped out. Viktor then went on to gripe about her being alone in the club, again.
“I don’t know why you’re annoyed; I’m the one that nearly got nipple clamps attached to my girls!” Alma reached down and rubbed her breasts, cringing just thinking of the pain.
Viktor watched her avidly, licking his tongue over his protruding fangs. Alma stopped and scowled when she noticed him.
“Don’t stop on my account.”
She stuck out her tongue out, in an as lady like fashion as she could manage, before picking up the binoculars and resuming her spying. Mercifully the semi-clad badger shifter had retreated indoors.
Alma sighed. “Nothing’s happening.”
Viktor grunted but kept his eyes trained on the house.
Alma clucked her tongue. She looked up and down the road, admiring the different houses. She then started picking at a few chips in her nail polish; that dumpster diving hadn’t done her nails any favors. After that she started humming, then she went through her purse looking through old receipts that had been in there for months, before fiddling with the radio and declaring that all DJs are idiots, and switching it off.
She huffed and folded her arms. “We’ve been here ages, is he ever going to leave the house?”
Viktor cocked an eyebrow. “We’ve been here twenty minutes; we were just lucky we turned up in time to see him receive that package. We would have been here sooner if you hadn’t insisted on stopping by Hola Sunshine.”
Alma rolled her shoulders. “What? I was hungry; it’s not my fault an insatiable vampire kept me up all night working up an appetite.”
Viktor graced her with a lascivious smile before retraining his focus on the house. “A-ha!” he cried.
“Is something happening? Or are you just gearing up to kill Peter Pan?”
“Something’s happening,” he told her triumphantly.
Alma peered through the binoculars and was elated to see that something was indeed happening. The portly badge was at the front door, stood on his tiptoes, leaning up to kiss a tall, gorgeous ginger-haired woman.
“Wowzer!” exclaimed Alma. “Is that his wife? She looks like a model.”
“Yep, that’s Scarlet Harlot-Jenkins, number one divorce attorney in all Playa Lunar.”
“Wait, Scarlet Harlot, seriously?” She snickered. “That’s fabulous! I’m not being funny, but he’s a short, portly badger, who’s at least ten years older than her, and doesn’t have as much money as her, how did he bag her?”
“Thankfully there are some beautiful, perfect women in the world willing to settle for less, I’m lucky to have one of those women myself.” Viktor leaned over and sucked on her neck for a couple of beats.
“Suck-up!” she chided, secretly delighted. “Knowing that he’s a lying, cheating bastard makes me hate him, but knowing that he’s lying and cheating on her, boggles the mind. Ooh, heads up, he’s leaving.”
Adrian, the badger, slipped into his yellow sports car and revved the engine, although he actually drove at a surprisingly leisurely pace. Viktor maintained a couple of car length’s distance.
They followed the badger to the bank, to a trendy hair salon and then to lunch with a group of men at an outside restaurant, none of whom was the snake from the photos. Alma absolutely insisted Viktor remain in the car, so she ducked into the restaurant to keep a closer eye on their quarry. Plus she was really hungry again; it had been an exhausting night. It was alright for Viktor; she’d allowed him a little snack while they were waiting outside the hair salon.
Whilst Alma was happily wolfing a plate of seafood risotto, and half listening to the badger’s friends talking about their golf swings, Viktor parked the car in a shady spot, on a secluded street, close to the badger’s car.
Alma noted that while his friends seemed like entitled, rich, a-holes, the badger was kind of quiet. The others were obnoxious and leered at the waitress, but the badger was respectful and apologetic. If it weren’t for the cheating on his wife thing, he would have gone up a notch in her estimation.
She sent texts to Viktor, telling him what was happening; after he had received seventeen texts that said ‘nothing,' he texted back to tell her to stop.
After a much too fast lunch in Alma’s opinion, the badger paid his share of the check and bid adieu to his friends. Alma hastily followed him out the restaurant.
She watched as he reached his car and spotted Viktor, a little further down the street, carefully stepping out his own car and standing in the shade.
At that moment, she made a decision. She’d had enough of stalking him; it was getting them nowhere. It was time for action.
Alma strode toward the badger. “Excuse me, Mr. Harlot-Jenkins, can we talk?”
He started when she spoke, and paled when she said his name. He fumbled with the car key. “I’m sorry, but I have somewhere to be.”
Alma leaned against the car door, blocking his entrance, her tall frame towered over him. “It’s really important, please.”
He looked at her impatiently before fear washed over his features. “You’re with them aren’t you? You’re working for him?”
“What? Who are you talking about?”
The badger turned bright red with fury, as black and white fur started sprouting. “Why can’t you people just leave me alone? What do I have to do, to earn a little privacy?”
Alma held up her hands in a placating manner. “Look, Mr. Harlot-Jenkins, I don’t know…”
The badger cut her off by savagely grabbing her arms and hurling her to the ground. Alma let out a loud ‘oof.’
The next few seconds were a blur as a vicious snarl pierced the air, and Viktor was holding the badger up by his throat.
Viktor’s claws and fangs had lengthened, whilst his eyes were deadly black, but when he spoke it was in an eerily calm voice. “Alma, my darling, are you alright?”
Alma looked between her mate’s stony face the rapidly purpling face of the badger. “I’m fine; honestly, it was nothing.”
She stood up and wiped her hands together. Viktor growled furiously, increasing the pressure on the badger’s neck as he scented his mate’s blood. Alma found a small cut on her hand.
The shifter gurgled in the vampire’s steely grip, before giving one last gasp and passing out.
“Get in the car,” ordered Viktor firmly.
Alma watched helplessly as her mate carried the shifter to the trunk of his Cadillac, and tossed the shifter inside, slamming it shut.
Viktor cast his hard expression in her direction, and she scrambled to get in the passenger seat. She knew he wouldn’t hurt her, but no way did she want to get in the way when he was on the warpath.
Viktor slid into the driver’s seat and with seeming calmness started speeding away.
Chapter Nineteen
“Oh god, oh my god! Is he dead? Did we kill him?”
“No,” replied Viktor brusquely.
Alma bit her nails, spitting at the foul taste of the nail varnish. “Are you sure? How can you be sure? Are you definitely sure?”
He gripped the steering wheel. “He passed out, but his heart was still beating.”
She slumped back in her car seat mollified slightly, until a new and horrifying thought slapped her in the face. “What if he suffocates in the trunk? He could be dying back there right now!”
Muffled thumps and shouts started floating toward them. Viktor raised an eyebrow at her. “He’s fine.”
Alma’s eyes bugged out, when the hell had her mate turned into a crazy person? Why the frak was he being so ca
lm? Did he do this sort of thing often?
Alma rubbed her temples, trying to calm her frazzled nerves. “Viktor, honey-bunny, unless I’m very much mistaken, we’ve just kidnapped a member of the freaking Council of Supernaturals!”
Viktor reached out and patted her thigh. “It’s fine; we’ll be fine.”
Alma was beside herself. “Fine?!” she yelled.
“Try not to worry…”
Alma stared at him incredulously, as he effortlessly maneuvered through traffic. “Yeah, you’re right, with any luck they’ll give us adjacent cells when they arrest us for kidnapping!”
“It won’t come to that,” he said reassuringly.
Alma let out a frustrated grunt and stared out the window moodily. She tensed as the banging in the trunk intensified. Jeez Louise! Could this day get any worse? Apparently yes, it could. They pulled up to a red light, right next to a cop car.
“Ah, crap!”
“Just relax,” he said soothingly. “Just act like everything is okay, and try to breathe normally.”
“Easy to say for the man who doesn’t need to breathe!” she snapped.
Alma looked at the cops out the corner of her eyes, and almost screeched when she saw two pairs of sunglasses looking in their direction. “They’re looking right at us! They know! They know what we’ve done!”
Viktor, damn him, actually chuckled at her flapping. “The windows are tinted; they won’t be able to see you.”
Alma steeled herself and stuck out her tongue. The cops didn’t change expression. She sighed in relief; at the very least, they couldn’t see her panicking. Which would be fine, except for one thing…
The banging from the trunk recommenced. To Alma it sounded unbelievably loud; she was certain everyone could hear it. To her dismay, one of the cops cocked his head on one side, and his mouth quirked into a quizzical expression.
Fear crept over her skin. Why weren’t the lights changing? Could this possibly be the longest red light in the history of red freaking lights?
“Just calm down…” he murmured.