The Shopgirl's Prophecy (Beasts of Vegas Book 1) (16 page)

“These are great,” she breathed. “You’re really talented.”

Slowly, he edged nearer, craning his neck to see what part she was on. “This is one I like a lot right now.” He ran the pads of his fingers across three boxes telling a story. A guy in a hallway carrying a paper grocery sack. A key in a lock. A door swinging open, but only a crack.

“I got this idea,” he said, frowning, “about a guy and his door. What if it opened one night, but his apartment wasn’t on the other side? What if it was a drugstore, or a theme park, or an outdoor pool?” He lit up like a kid, and she found it terribly distracting.

“Yeah.” She grinned. “Or the past, or the future.”

“Exactly. It could be anything.” He aimed the full strength of his smile at her for a moment and then remembered himself and closed the book. “Anyway, I haven’t figured out what to put on the other side of the door.” He returned the sketchbook to his backpack and zipped it closed.

“I’d love to read it when it’s done.”

He seemed about to smile, but he sniffed instead and went very still. “You smell…” He didn’t finish the thought, but backed away. “Roz?” he called loudly, scaring Ali. “Let’s get out of here. I want to see this hospital. I know, I know,” he said, though no one had voiced an argument, “I won’t attack. I just want to see it. I need the distraction.”

#

Travelling with Connor, right after his infection, was without a doubt the dumbest decision Ali had ever made in her life. Her father would skin her alive.

But dad was dead. And part of her, the rebellious part that had never had any room to wiggle before, enjoyed doing something her father wouldn’t approve of. Even if it pissed off Roz. She smiled and popped a strawberry into her mouth. Especially if it pissed off Roz.

It wasn’t just Connor’s instability, though. She didn’t know if she could sit in his freaking uncomfortable truck, squished between Connor and Roz, eating food out of sacks for another day.

“Thank God there will be cell reception in the city.” It would help her mood if she could hear a kind voice. It might make this death march to UNLV more bearable. She didn’t have many friends. Okay, almost none. She adored her roommate, a lovely older woman named CJ. And she was chatty with a girl who worked at the jewelry shop with her. But that was about it. If she had free time, she’d spent it alone or with her dad.

“Who do you need to call?” Roz asked, irritation practically oozing from her pores.

“What do you care?”

The witch growled through her nose. “You picked the wrong day to mess with me, princess.” She elbowed Ali in the ribs.

Her side screamed in pain. “That’s it!” she exclaimed. “I can’t stand your foul, sweaty—”

“
My
sweaty—”

Ali bolted from her seat and scrambled over Connor, intending to switch spots. But he didn’t get the memo because he stayed put. Her knee slipped and—
plop
—she landed in his lap. For a long moment she didn’t move, too stunned by his heat and the scent of his skin to reverse her trajectory. She wet her lips, and her nose bumped his.

“What are you doing?” he asked, his voice rumbling through her. His free hand roamed her thigh, as if not sure where to lay it. He finally settled on her knee.

“Can you scoot over?” she whispered, forgetting all about being angry with Roz. The hard, muscled thigh under her bottom was much more fascinating. “I want to change seats.”

“I sit by the window so I can shoot the bad guys,” he whispered.

“Oh.” Her thoughts crawled in slow motion. He smelled good, masculine. Like earth and trees and sky.

Oh Lord, he was so not good for her. Dangerous didn’t begin to cover it.

“Shit.” Roz slammed her foot down on the accelerator, and the Ford lurched forward. The force plastered Ali against Connor’s chest like a wet blanket.

“What the hell?”

Roz eyed the side mirror. “There’s a tow truck coming up fast behind us.”

Chapter Twelve

Ali whipped her head around, searching for the vehicle chasing them.

In London, fast vehicles were not cause for alarm. Typically. In the Nevada desert along the desolate Highway 215 north of Vegas, they were terrifying. There could be anyone or anything chasing them, and Ali just wanted to go home. She wanted to feel safe again.

“Is it the tow truck from the satellite photos?” Connor asked, and then not waiting for an answer, he barked, “Take us out of the city. Steer them away from civilians.”

Agreeing silently, Roz turned north onto a strip of barely maintained asphalt leading nowhere.

Connor shoved Ali away, nearly tossing her into Roz’s lap. She grabbed the back of the seat for dear life as he slithered his upper body through the hinged back window.

“What is it?” Please, please don’t say vampires. She couldn’t take any more vampires.

“Tow truck,” he called out. “Roz, keep your speed up, but don’t roll us, you hear me?” Without waiting for an answer, he fell into the bed of the Ford.

The vampires from St. Peter’s Hospital had finally caught up. The ones everyone thought were after her. She reached for the seat belt, but her hands got all clumsy. Stupid stress. She couldn’t get it to buckle.

She finally snapped it into place, and then peered through the rear window. She caught glimpses of endless desert fields, blue sky, a big truck, and the back of Connor’s T-shirt. The tow truck was gaining.

Ali took off her buckle. It was too confining.

“What do they want?” she asked Roz.

“My guess, princess, is they want you.”

What could they possibly want with her? Absurd. Even if she was Anya from Nadvirna, she wasn’t going to do anything about it.

Two shots sounded, and she screamed, couldn’t help it. At least three more rounds pinged against the Ford. A bullet cracked the rear windshield.

The whole truck vibrated as Roz pushed it past seventy-five on the long stretch of gray highway. She hit a gully, and they went airborne for a good two seconds before crashing down and punishing the shocks.

Ali braced herself on the dash. “Can we outrun them?”

“We can try.” The witch gripped the wheel so tight her arms quivered.

The tow truck slammed into the Ford’s rear bumper. They fishtailed, but Roz muscled the red beauty back on the road. Through the cracked rear window, Ali saw a sandy-haired prick in a dirty golf shirt, his face a snarl of barely controlled rage.

More pinging as Connor made a running jump onto the tow truck’s hood. He slammed his fist into the windshield, shattering it. And then he levered himself into the cab beside a very pissed off infected.

“Connor’s…” She didn’t know what to say.
Out of his fucking mind
?

“Hold on,” Roz shouted.

The vampire rammed them again, this time with a lot more force. Roz spun the wheel, but too late. The front end hit the low roadside berm like it was a concrete barrier, and Ali bounced so hard her teeth jarred. The top of her head smacked against the interior light, and warm, thick fluid dribbled down into her hair. Ow.

They crashed through a sand dune and rolled to a stop, the engine dying. She couldn’t move right away, in shock that she wasn’t dead, that they hadn’t flipped the truck and burst into flames.

Roz wiggled through the back window. “Stay in the truck!”

Screw that. Ali opened the door and tumbled out. She needed a gun, some kind of weapon. Where was the Ruger Connor had given her?

She crunched through sticker bushes and stumbled into shallow animal burrows. She couldn’t get her mind around what was happening.

With a roar like a jet plane, the tow truck flew past, swerved to the right, overcorrected and rolled. The immense monster of a vehicle plowed through a field, blowing sand and sagebrush into the air like a bomb going off. It landed belly up, its massive black tires still spinning.

“Connor.” A human boy wouldn’t survive that, but he wasn’t completely human anymore. He was something more.
Please let it be enough to save him
.

Ali wrenched open the Ford’s glove box, grabbed her loaded Ruger, and ran after him. She didn’t stop to worry about what she was doing, just propelled herself forward. Because a nasty, tow truck-driving vampire needed killing—promptly.

Twenty feet from the truck, Ali heard movement and held her weapon straight out in front of her with both hands.

Two men climbed, crawled, and dragged themselves out. She recognized Connor, though he was covered in blood and dirt, mixing to form a disgusting muddy paste in his hair and up his arms. The other man caught sight of her, growled like a wolf, like he recognized her, and charged. Stunned, she fired once, but her hands shook. She missed.

Connor moved fast. Faster than she could track. He tackled the infected, and they crashed to the earth, rolling and wrestling. She didn’t dare fire her gun again. She backed up a step, bumping into Roz, who’d called her power and was speaking spells.

“Make Connor faster,” Roz said in super speed. “Make Connor stronger.”

The two men rained down blows so quickly, Ali couldn’t tell who was winning. The infected got his foot up between them and kicked Connor, sending him hurtling through the air. He slid across gritty earth for half a dozen feet before popping up and sprinting back toward the hissing, spitting infected. Connor leapt, slamming into him and forcing him down into the dirt. He raised his right arm and punched through the man’s chest, breaking ribs and tearing muscle, before pulling out a wet, sloppy human heart. He pitched it across the road like a fastball.

Game over.

Connor rose, a little unsteadily, and faced her, his nostrils flaring as he inhaled her scent. Deeply. Her blood scent.

The beast in him flickered out from behind his eyes. She covered her wound with her hand, trying to conceal it. He growled, low in his chest.

Ali fought the overwhelming instinct to retreat. But, as with an animal, it was best to stand her ground and never, ever run. No. If she ran, he’d chase her.

Needing to reach the reasonable, human part of him, Ali quietly called, “Connor?”

He blinked, his face draining of all color. “You’re bleeding. I…” He faltered a step. “I don’t— …Roz!”

The witch startled, her spells fading. “What’s wrong?”

“Blood. I don’t know if I can—” He shook his head, backing away even further. “Fix it.” He took off running at a speed she’d never witnessed before. Track star kind of fast. Soon he was just a speck on the road.

Ali swallowed thickly, her mouth suddenly desert dry. Good God. He’d stared at her like he wanted to eat her.

“Is he okay?” she asked Roz.

“Let’s take a look at your head.”

“I’m serious,” Ali said, tripping over jagged stones and a crushed cactus on her way back to their truck, trying not to look too closely at the mutilated corpse on the ground. “Is he?”

Roz yanked the tailgate of the Ford down with unnecessary force. “He’s fine. He’s adjusting.” So why did her voice quiver? “Now lie down so I can bandage your head. We need to get out of here before the highway patrol shows up.”

“The wound’s not serious.” She crawled up among the bags and bundles, stretching out and aiming the top of her head at the witch. “It doesn’t even hurt anymore.”

Roz grunted, probing her scalp with her sharp little nails. “No big deal.” She rummaged through two backpacks for medical supplies and bottled water.

“Think it needs stitches?” Roz wasn’t exactly Florence Nightingale when it came to sutures. Ali didn’t need any more, thank you.

Roz poured tepid water over the wound. “Nah. Should be fine.” She roughly massaged shampoo through her hair and onto her scalp. It might as well have been made with lemon juice and salt crystals.

“He looked like a vampire just now,” Ali blurted out, tensing in pain. “Did you notice?”

Roz finished by dousing her with bottled water.

“Did you?” Ali pressed.

“Yeah, I noticed.” She set the bottle aside. “Here, you finish up. Then get rid of your shirt. There’s blood on it.”

Ali climbed down from the truck and tossed her shirt. She ran soap and water over her neck, shoulders, and face. There was more blood than she’d realized. She dried off, her hands hardly shaking at all, and pulled on a clean shirt. One of Roz’s. A ruby-colored cropped top Ali wouldn’t have worn in her previous life for a million pounds sterling. It barely covered her body at all.

“What if he goes dark side?” she asked quietly, pulling at the top in a vain hope it would grow in size.

Roz didn’t answer right away. Ali wasn’t certain she would.

“I think about it all the time,” she finally admitted.

#

Running helped. Not the sissy, speed-walking, wiggle your hips kind of running. No, all out sprinting. Full tilt. It ate up Connor’s excess energy and calmed his thoughts. He’d been half a second from losing it back there. Ali’s natural scent mixed with blood? Knee buckling deliciousness. It had taken every ounce of strength in him to keep from licking the blood from her scalp, from sucking every last particle of it from her hair.

His stomach soured, so he ran faster. If he tripped in a gopher hole, he’d face plant so hard. Didn’t matter. He pushed the muscles in his legs and core past the point of pain. Then his calves spasmed, and he flew for a sec before eating dirt. He rolled onto his back and laid there, chest heaving, muscles aching, but his head cleared. Finally.

If he didn’t get his shit together, Roz would end him. She may have hesitated at the clinic, but that was before he showed any violent tendencies. Without a doubt, if he got worse, she’d put him down. Because the mission was more important than either one of them. She wouldn’t allow him to roam the country tearing up innocent people.

He retraced his steps and found the girls sitting in companionable silence on the tailgate of the Ford. Ali’s blonde hair was clean and braided down her back. Each girl held a gun in her lap. Because of him.

“Will the truck start?” he called, avoiding eye contact. What did they think of him? What did Ali think of him since she’d glimpsed the animal within? Not that it mattered. Tied for first priority: keep everyone safe and then kill Oleksander. Somewhere further down the list laid: talk to Ali about her fears, hopes, and dreams.