Dead Girls Don't Cry (2 page)

I fished through my bag. Where was my cell? Jonathan would come. Provided I could find the damn phone.

Meaty thwacks rang out in the alley as I passed by.

Do not look
.

A soft oomph, followed by a clipped English accent, “Try that again, bastards.”

I looked.

Shit.

A lone and gorgeous male vampire had been captured. Three revenants had him pinned against the wall. Two held his arms and one pinned his legs. Three more surrounded him like a pack of knife-wielding hyenas.

The vampire snarled. Long fangs bared, presumably pissed off at his capture. With his sculptured physique, he could handle the situation. Right?

None of the baddies had noticed me yet. I could leave.

Another punch landed, connecting with the vamp’s mouth. The crack echoed in the alley. Liquid splattered, followed by cruel laughter.

The vampire hottie spat, his lip broken. Blood trickled down his jaw, seeping into the stark white collar of his button down shirt. “Think twice before you cut me, mate. I’ll smash all of your fucking heads in.”

“Shut up, meat.”

One added, “I’m so scared,” before swinging his knife and tearing a gash in the vampire’s chest. The pack laughed. A revenant approached the vampire with IV bags.

Crap-a-roni, now I had to get involved. They planned to bleed him out. That’s what revenants did. They took a vampire’s blood and drained him or her dry. The blood was then sold to the highest revenant bidder. They believed our blood could remove the excess spirit from their bodies, returning them to their true vampire form.

Problem is—it’s a myth. There’s no way for a revenant to become a vampire, any more than I could become a zebra if I wanted to. These guys were zealots. Deranged lunatics.

“This is your last warning, blokes,” Mr. Sexy English accent said. I tried not to shiver at the sound of his rich voice. Heady whiffs of his sweet scented blood drifted my way. Like a fine wine, the smell promised a delicious and satisfying taste. Saliva pooled in my mouth. My fangs dug into my bottom lip.

“Well lookee here!”

Damn. I should have run when I had the chance. The pack turned in my direction, their faces eager for more blood. I cringed under the gaze of the hollow-eyed, pale-skinned nightmares who wanted a piece of me.

The nearest one licked his gray, rubbery lips. “Yum. Dessert.”

I was too stupid to live. Why didn’t I run? My feet were frozen to the spot. I did the lamest, girliest thing possible. I swung my purse. And connected. A solid hit to the nuts.

The revenant shrieked, clutching his junk. “Bitch!”

The male vampire bucked, tossing the revenant off his left arm. Partially free, he ripped the arm off the other revenant before the thing could even react. With balled fists, Mr. Hottie crushed the skull of the captor holding his feet.

“Don’t stand there like a daft pony!” the vampire scolded. He snapped the neck of the nearest revenant, then motioned. “Get out of my way!”

“What? Without my help, you’d still be trapped against a wall!” I ducked and stepped aside, narrowly avoiding the gray-lipped revenant who had thought I was dessert.

“The rubbish bin would be more help than you!” Mr. English silenced two more revenants with brutal, neck-twisting efficiency.

“Oh really?” What a prick.

The revenant recovered from the nut bash and charged me again. His fingertips knocked off my ball cap. I kicked him in the stomach, grabbed the garbage barrel and slammed it over the revenant’s head as he honed in on me. The plastic bin wouldn’t kill the thing, but he couldn’t see either.

“Pathetic,” the vampire said.

Mr. English and I watched as the last revenant bounced against a brick wall before falling over, his legs scissoring.

“Time for this one to bugger off as well.” Mr. English yanked off the barrel and snuffed out the revenant with a bone-shattering blow to its head.

One by one the corpses disintegrated into dusty husks. A breeze blew through the alley and scattered the remains. Gray vaporous clouds floated around before dissipating into the air. To a passerby, the revenants’ final passage would look like dirty car exhaust.

“Well, I’m off then. Have good evening.” He brushed dirt off his tailored trousers. “Sod it, they scuffed my shoes. And this shirt is ruined.”

“Yeah. What a tragedy. You’re lucky. You could have been a revenant Slurpee.”

He sniffed at the suggestion. “I was never in any real danger.”

“You could have fooled me,” I retrieved my ball cap from the grimy sidewalk.

A late afternoon sunbeam penetrated the alley, illuminating the vampire’s blue-green eyes and highlighting the fine bone structure of his face. I tried not to gawk.

I gathered my tangled hair and mashed it under the hat. “Looks to me like they had you pinned against the ropes.” Did I mention he was gorgeous? Like a cover model. An underwear cover model. I cleared my throat. He was a total stranger, and while I bet he looked divine in only underwear, I needed to stop ogling him.

When he stared at me and didn’t reply, I lamely added, “You know? Down for the count.”

“I understood the reference, luv,” he said in his damn fine accent.

A man-shaped shadow shifted from across the street, forming a dark blot in the alley’s entrance. We weren’t alone. I tensed my shoulders.

“Something wrong?” Mr. English stepped closer. A minty scent roiled off his powerful body.

Delicious. Hunger and blood lust stirred my stomach. I moved back. He prowled forward with a predator’s rolling gait, eyes fixed on me. Transfixed, I stopped only when my back banged into the wall.

He was a finger length away. “Like what you see?”

“N..n-no...” I stuttered. The figure across the street changed position. The shadow’s head now sported a small bowler shaped hat. Was that—?

The blond vampire shifted, more tantalizing aromas drifted under my nose. All rational thought fled my brain and the shadow was forgotten. A wry smile twisted his pale pink lips. I imagined his fangs trailing down my neck. I choked the swoony sigh before it escaped my mouth.

I made a half-assed attempt to regain control. “Geez, Mister, a little space here. I’d appreciate it if you would let me leave now. Please,” I squeaked. Who was the idiot speaking with my voice?

I inhaled a deep lungful of his scent before coming to my senses. The mooning had to stop. “What’s your name anyway?”

He leaned close to my ear and whispered, “You first, sweetheart.” His smooth voice ran over my body like silk on naked skin. I clenched my fists, digging my fingernails into my palms to stay focused.

My mouth opened, ready to answer. What the hell was wrong with me? I clamped my jaw shut so hard my teeth rattled.

Compulsion. Made total sense. He was older. I turned my face away, tearing my gaze off his jugular. No doubt about it, irresistible blood ran in his veins. And I wanted a taste. My punishment for not feeding sooner. I would not tell him my name.

“Cherry,” my fool mouth responded.

“You’re hungry. Why haven’t you fed? Doesn’t your
master
,” he sneered the word as if disgusted, “feed you properly?”

“Not his fault,” I choked out. It was none of his business why I was hungry. Jonathan and I might have issues, but he took damn good care of his family. And I wasn’t some weak fledgling.

I slammed my palms against the wall. The bite of the brick’s rough surface helped clear my mind. “I didn’t catch your name.”

“Ian McDevitt.” His eyes traveled down my neck and stopped at my logoed t-shirt. He angled his blond head, appraising me. “Fang Bang? Are you a strumpet?”

“Strumpet?” How old was this guy? Who said that word anymore?

“Sorry, didn’t mean to offend. And who’s the stalker in the alley across the street?”

I looked over Ian’s shoulder. Or tried to. I had to rise on my tiptoes. The shadow pulled back, presumably departing.

“I think it’s a customer from the club.” I’d recognize that bowler hat anywhere. Jonathan would get an earful about. Mr. Vandemere following me outside of the work place.

“Your sire needs to nip that kind of
devotion
in the bud.” Ian moved back slightly, dropped his hands and gave me some breathing room.

“Yeah, no shit.” Not wanting to look at his tempting neck again, I stared at his hands instead. Big mistake. Long tapered fingers, smooth palms, and a crescent shaped scar between his thumb and forefinger. I like a man with big strong hands. A man Ian’s size with small hands would be a total turn-off. Tingles raced across my skin at the thought of such capable hands caressing my body.

“Find me pleasing, do you?” Ian’s lips curved into a slow smile. His hands skimmed over his abdomen.

Yikes. What was I doing? I wasn’t capable of actually blushing, but I swear blood heated my cheeks. “
Puh
-lease. Sorry, but your large ego obscures the view. What family are you with?”

Ian’s face darkened for a moment. Then the sneaky smile returned. “I’m a rogue.”

I flattened further into the wall. He had freely admitted to being an outlaw. All vampires were in families. Unaffiliated vampires were preyed upon and eliminated. “How is that possible?”

“That I’m still alive?” He seemed amused by the question. “I’m a crafty bastard. And, luv, until you came along and interrupted, I planned to claim a bounty on the revenants.”

“You’re a bounty hunter?” Interesting. I’d heard rumors that a black market existed among vampires specializing in essence of revenants. Supposedly, a revenant could be harnessed for its excess spirit, providing the user with an amazing high. Like revenants, vampires bought into stupid myths too.

He spread his hands outwards, motioning to the remaining revenant dust, “I’m empty handed at the moment.”

“Are you implying I messed up your plans?”

Ian laughed. His voice echoed in the alley, sending shivers up my spine. He held his hand up. “Don’t get your knickers in a bunch. No offense meant.”

“But bounty hunting is so …”

“Crass? Uncouth? I like to think of it as necessary. This gang has been hunting local vamps for weeks. They needed eliminating.”

“Oh. So you aren’t fueling the black market?”

“No,” was the short, clipped response. “I was hired by a legitimate vampire benefactor. So kindly, do not lump me in with the vermin.”

“My apologies,” I offered. Touchy.

“Duly noted.” He inclined his head and opened his mouth to speak when his cell phone chirped. After a quick glance at the screen, he looked up. “Well, duty calls. Maybe I’ll catch your act sometime.”

“You’ve heard of me?” So he knew who I was the whole time? Damn this red hair.

“Who in Austin hasn’t heard of the great Cherry Cordial?” He turned to walk away, then paused. “And luv, I’d appreciate it if you kept my independent operator status to yourself.”

I nodded, watching him until he disappeared around the corner.

What a day. I had narrowly avoided becoming a revenant snack, met my first outlaw, and lived to tell the tale.

~ * * * ~

Thoughts of Ian occupied me the entire drive home. A rogue. He was free. No sire telling him what to do. Each choice his own to make. On the flip side, he lacked the stability of a family. In a family, there’s always someone there—a built-in support system. Like a human family, not everyone saw eye to eye or even liked each other, but we were loyal to a fault. We never had to worry about hunger or fear attacks from others.

Still, I envied his freedom. What would I do with freedom? A shiver ran through me. I’d never been on my own before. First I was under my nurse’s thumb, then that of my governess. When she wasn’t directing my life, there was my mother. And later, Jonathan.

Sad. I know. And depressing. Over a hundred years old and a scared girl still lived inside me.

I exited the highway and turned onto the road leading toward the lake area. My mind drifted back to Ian and his finer attributes: the smooth planes of his face, the sparkling blue-green eyes, and his golden blond hair. To die for. No lie, he shivered my timbers in my female parts.

I suppressed a sigh. No. Swooning would not do.

We lived in two different worlds. If Jonathan found out I was canoodling with an outlaw, he’d kill Ian and then tan my hide.

No point in questioning fate. I’d have accept the cards I’d been dealt. I learned that lesson young, from my father, the Earl of Pembridge: speculator, card sharp, and missionary rolled into one.

The tires squealed as I nearly missed the turnoff to my house.

Sunrise was an hour away, but I wasn’t worried. Sunlight wasn’t an issue for me. Yet another myth. Vampires don’t burst into flames or display other skin maladies in daylight. Good thing, since I couldn’t go into the house to shower. Nature would provide. I could watch sunrise from the lake.

The road curved. The lake came into view. Crystal clear water went on for miles, framed by leafy green trees and sandy shores. I had bought the house at Lake Austin long before it became so popular. I had the foresight to purchase the two adjacent lots, ensuring my privacy.