Using her superior spying on good-looking men skills, she gets a good look at him without looking obvious. She eyes him appreciatively but does not recognize him. She offers to find out more information about him and get back with me tomorrow. Minutes later, she moves back into the heart of the dance floor.
I check my cell phone for any messages and notice I have an email. Going online on my cell phone, I check my encrypted email account. The email is from a client requesting a meeting tomorrow. I send a quick reply informing the client I would meet with him at one of my favorite deli’s at noon for lunch. As I am putting my cell phone back in my black Dior purse, I feel the cool power of a vampire’s presence at my back.
I grab my slender, silver knife embedded inside the lining of my purse. Trying to move as nonchalantly as possible, I remove the knife from the purse and hold it against the inside of my forearm.
“That will not be necessary.” The vampire standing right behind me says close to my ear in a soft whisper. His voice is like chocolate pouring over my skin. The husky, velvety tone penetrates my skin down to my bones. His power is barely noticeable but it still makes the hair on my forearms stand up.
I swing around with the knife palmed in my right hand poised directly over his heart, the tip barely touching his shirt.
The vampire is a few inches taller than I am, just below six feet tall. He has dark brown, wavy hair with emerald green eyes. His honey kissed skin looks golden against his dark eyebrows and hair. His plump, kissable lips are inches away from mine, shaped in a closed-lipped smile. His upper body is wider than his waist, but not in an overly exaggerated kind of way. His dark, long-sleeved, dress shirt is a hunter green color, Italian cut, bringing out the darker streaks in his eyes.
He is standing so close I can tell he recently fed because I can feel body heat radiating from him. Our eyes meet and I feel myself begin to fall into those emerald green eyes. A spark somewhere deep inside me ignites. The sensation it invokes instantly drenches my lace panties. I feel his power flare up and wash over me creating cool, little electric shocks all over my body. Breaking his gaze leaves me breathless.
When I do catch my breath, I notice he is examining my knife with curiosity and my hands are by my side.
“Hey, give me that back.” I snap at him, snatching the knife out of his hands.
He raises an eyebrow in mock surprise then lowers his hands to his sides. “Please forgive me. I was merely admiring the quality of your blade. I meant no offense.”
“Humph. Well, I don’t like people touching my stuff without asking first, especially vampires I don’t know.” I snarl at him.
“Allow me to introduce myself. I am Christien Aleran.” He says, gently lifting my left hand to his mouth placing the gentlest brush of his lips across my knuckles.
I think I actually sway on my feet, although I will never admit it to anyone.
A smile spreads across my lips before I realize what is happening and I snatch my hand out of his. I resist the urge to rub my hand on my micro skirt since I can still feel his touch lingering. “What are you doing to me?”
“Whatever do you mean?” He says amusingly.
I frown at him. “You are using some sort of vampire powers on me.”
“I am not doing anything to you. You are attracted to me as I am to you. Our souls are responding to our mutual attraction to each other.” He says coolly.
“What? That is such a load of bull! How arrogant can you be to assume I am attracted to you? Whatever you are doing, just stop. There will never be anything between us so just stay away from me and I’ll stay away from you.” I turn to walk away and he touches my arm softly to stop me.
“Look, Christien. You seem like a decent vampire.” I continue, heavy with sarcasm. “There are a lot of good vampires, Weres or others that may be interested in hooking up with a vampire. Go bug one of them.”
“May I at least know your name?”
“No.” I say as Mack walks over to me with the cooler of bagged blood.
I thank Mack before brushing past Christien, heading for the front door. I wave good-bye to Blixen on my way outside. It takes all my will power not to turn around and see the gorgeous vampire I know is watching me leave.
Within fifteen minutes, I am standing at my front door after driving home from the club. As paranoid as I am, I usually search the neighborhood twice before driving into my garage. In my line of work, you can never be too careful.
As a mercenary, the competition is always looking to off a competitor. My competition has already torched the apartment complex I was living in prior to moving here, hoping to get rid of me. Fortunately, I wasn’t home at the time. When a person lets their guard down, they become vulnerable.
A person is as weak as the people they trust. Therefore, I live alone, trust no one and stay unattached. As much as I like Tyler, we really aren’t that close. Granted, he does know things about me that I have never told anyone except my best friend Roman, but he doesn’t know everything. He doesn’t know the truth about me. The lack of knowing more about me may save his life someday.
It’s not a secret that I am a vampire. I willingly allow everyone to think I am a vampire. Hell, I encourage it. The less people suspect I am anything other than a vampire, the better off I am. What no one knows, except Roman, is that I’m half angel too. That kind of information is lethal for me if someone found that out about me.
With the cooler in my left hand, I unlock and open my front door and walk inside, listening carefully for any sounds. Hearing only silence, I shut and lock the door behind me. Most mercenaries don’t believe in alarms. They feel invincible and believe no one can get to them. I am not one of those mercenaries. I have three steel deadbolts on my front door and have a top of the line alarm system with a silent trigger. Well, it is silent to human ears. The frequency is set at a pitch so high, only someone with non-human ears can hear it. My windows are all dual pane windows that are UV treated, bulletproof, and are one-way viewable glass. I can see out, but no one can see in. My truly dedicated, encrypted phone lines are for my privacy. All the walls are steel reinforced and soundproof.
Hey, I sometimes like to listen to loud, rock music at 3am without a visit by the cops. I also like the thought of being able to shoot an intruder without my neighbors waking up.
Along with having enough weapons and ammunition for a small army hidden underground in my basement, I can truly feel comfortable and secure with all my security measures.
Life for a half-angel, half-vampire mercenary, really does get lonely at times. I may be secure and comfortable at home, but it is not the same comfort as someone’s arms around my body, holding me when I have had a bad day.
Placing the cooler of blood on the counter, I press the ‘ON’ button on my previously prepared coffeemaker in the kitchen and make my way upstairs. After a quick shower, I skip the lingerie and put on a blood red, silk kimono robe with matching slippers.
Since I do not even walk around my own house unarmed, I grab a couple of slim silver stakes with decorative, ceramic handles to prevent the silver from burning my hands, fold my hair up on top of my head, and slide the stakes into the knot, pinning my hair in place.
The aroma of coffee drifts into my nose, perking me up instantly. I grab the cooler of blood that I left on the counter prior to taking my shower. I put the blood away before making myself a cup of coffee and settling on the couch in front of my laptop.
After waiting for my laptop to boot up, I check my email and find two new emails. I open the first message to find another request for my services.
The client requests that I log into a secure server to obtain the information on my mark. I log on to the internet, check my bank account, and verify that this new client has already deposited my fee into my account before I’ve even had a chance to accept or deny the job. Before downloading the information on my mark, I open the second email and find it is an email from Tyler. I open it up and it reads:
Hey you,
I talked to my friend tonight and he is willing to talk. Meet us for dinner at IHOP tomorrow at 6pm.
Later,
T.
Wow! When did I become so popular?
I delete Tyler’s email and log on to the server as my newest client requests in order to download the information on the mark. As the information is downloading, I finish off my lukewarm coffee. I rinse the cup in the sink and walk back over to the laptop screen to see a face I am not expecting. It is the vampire from Blixen, Christien Aleran.
“Well, well.” I say aloud. “This will be a mark I may actually enjoy taking out.”
I print out the necessary information along with the instructions from the client and delete everything else. I set my sweeper program to make sure the system runs an erase program over the file ten times to ensure it cannot be recovered before the system shuts down.
I take the papers I printed on Christien upstairs with me to my bedroom. Lying on top of my covers on my stomach, I thumb through the information the client gave me on him. The client wants Christien delivered to them alive.
Hmm. That’s different.
The client also requests the contract to be complete by Saturday.
“Well crap. I hate time limits on jobs. They better be lucky the check already cleared.” I sigh as I remember how busy I am going to be over the next couple of days. I close the file after a final glimpse of Christien’s photo and put it on the bedside table. Exhausted, I climb under the covers naked, leaving my robe at the end of the bed and fall asleep within minutes.
Chapter 15
The incessant buzzing sound from my alarm clock is grating on my last nerve. I slam my fist down on the clock, willing to do anything to get the noise to stop. Bits and pieces of the alarm clock scatter all over my wooden floor. “Shit.” I groan aloud and sit up.
There goes another alarm clock.
I check the clock on the wall to make sure I am not late for my lunch meeting and am relieved to see it is only 10:30am.
I guess I should have reset the alarm before going to bed.
I lean over the side of the bed, open the nightstand drawer and pull out a new alarm clock from the small stash I have. I plug it in, set the time and the alarm.
After cleaning up the mess off the floor, slamming down two bags of blood, and getting dressed, I leave my house heading to the restaurant to meet my potential client.
I always arrive at the meeting place early so I can scope the place, even if I am already familiar with the location. Never know what might have changed since the last time I have been there. I also never go to meet a new client without being heavily armed.
The royal blue, micro fiber designer t-shirt I am wearing nicely hides my custom-made, eight-inch silver daggers in their custom-made sheaths that run along each side of my body under my arms. The hilts of the daggers are near my waist, inverted for easy access. Only a clasp keeps them attached to their sheaths until needed. Small, four-inch knives are snug against the underside of my wrists by what looks like gold bangles. My jeans conceal the modified 6 inch, Glock 33 pistol with .357 SIG silver bullets snug at my ankle. The two stakes woven through my freshly French braided hair also serves the purpose of holding my thick hair back out of my face. I drive my black Mercedes SL 65 AMG to the deli and park a block away, keeping my vehicle out of sight of the deli.
It is 11:30 am when I start my first circle around the deli. I check the alleys and rooftops for anyone looking to get a lucky shot. So far, everything looks good.
The familiar sight of the men and women meeting up for lunch and the sounds of the construction crew down the street is settling my anxious nerves.
The combination of the smells from Luigi’s deli and the nearby Starbucks has my stomach really getting mad at me for skipping breakfast.
I scan the crowd as I enter the deli. I see a few people I consider regulars by how frequent they visit, but everyone else seems to be waiting in line to place or pick-up their orders. I make my way to the counter and wave at Maria, Luigi’s wife.
“Hey Jess! I’ll bring something out for you in a few minutes.” Maria calls out to me.
“Thanks.” I call back and walk back outside to the deli tables. I see my favorite table that allows my back to lean against the wall without blocking my view of the street and I enter the minds of the three women sitting there. I give them each the suggestion to go to Starbucks. They all stand at once, grab their stuff, and shuffle their way down to the busy coffee shop.
I straighten up the table and sit, waiting for my lunch guest. I do not have to wait long.
As I am munching on my perfect turkey sandwich that Maria brought out to me minutes before, I pretend to admire the outdoor surroundings, when I see a short man with a potbelly staring right at me as he comes towards my table. He is wearing an expensive suit, definitely not off the rack, with the suit jacket, carrying a brown leather suitcase. He has what looks like a white handkerchief in his right hand that he keeps using to wipe the sweat dripping from his flushed face.