Tooth and Claw (The Harry Russo Diaries Book 2) (9 page)

Tomas escorted me to his vehicle. It was a Porsche Cayman
GT4 in sapphire blue. “Nice car,” I said to him as he opened the door for me,
another surprise. “Are you compensating for something or having a mid-life
crisis?”

“Cute,” he replied. “Get in the car, Russo.”

About a block away from our destination, Tomas pulled the
car over. He put it in park but left it running.

“What are you doing? I’m not walking from here in these
shoes. Are you kidding me?” I asked.

“Kiss me,” Tomas said.

“What?”

“I said, kiss me.”

“Whoa, Tomas, just hold on there. I think you – “

The rest of my sentence was swallowed by Tomas as he reached
over and pulled me to him, his lips crushing against mine. Shocked, I pushed
him away, my hand coming up to slap him, but he snagged my wrist before my fingers
could make contact with his face.

“What the hell did you do that for?” I asked, wrenching my
arm from his grasp.

“So you could get
that
out of your system,” he
replied with a smirk, wiping his lips with his hand. “You’re supposed to be my
girlfriend. No one is going to believe it if you try and deck me every time I
kiss you.”

“I thought we were going to watch a fight and meet the
people running the show. Just how much kissing do you think will be necessary?”

He shrugged. “Whatever it takes, unless you want to blow
our cover.”

“For Pete’s sake, you make it sound like we’re on a CIA covert
op.” I frowned at him. “I can play along, if it’s necessary. But only as
much as necessary.” I thought of Nash, listening in through the bug. He was
probably having kittens over this conversation. Good thing the microphone only
worked one way. I don’t think I wanted to know what he was saying. “You take
advantage and I’ll knee you so hard in the groin, you’ll be swallowing your
testicles,” I added.

Tomas snorted at my threat and threw the car back into
gear. He roared off, but not before I saw Nash’s SUV pull up behind us.

Ares was located in a refurbished factory that backed onto
the river. It sat at one end of a large parking lot that was already full - looked
like the club was a popular destination.

Tomas pulled into a parking space close to the door that
said ‘Reserved’. I sat and waited for him to come around and help me out. We
were supposed to be on a date, after all. Besides, it was hard getting in or
out of a car in a dress this short and still maintain your dignity.
The Porsche was so low to the ground I felt like my ass was
running along the pavement. I swung both my legs out of the car as daintily as
possible and thankfully accepted Tomas’s hand. He pulled me to my feet and
into his arms. I thudded against his chest, my arms pinned between our bodies.

“Showtime,” he said with a grin. He leaned in and took my
lips again. This time, I relaxed into the kiss. He wasn’t a bad kisser,
although not as good as Nash. He slid his hand down to my ass and gave it a
squeeze. I grunted my protest, my lips still locked with his. I tried to pull
away, but his other hand was on the back of my neck, holding my head.

“Tomas,” Isaac scolded as he came to stand beside us.
“Don’t provoke the wolf.”

Tomas ended the kiss and I glared at him. “Watch it buddy,”
I hissed, a fake smile plastered on my face. “Don’t get handsy, unless you
want me to break something.”

Tomas laughed and grabbed my hand pulling me towards the entrance.
“Come on, Russo. This is going to be fun.”

The entrance to the club opened into a large reception
area. The security, which appeared non-existent on the outside, was in full
force here. There were several brawny men watching as the few people ahead of
us were put through security measures to rival that of a major airport. Besides having bags
searched, everyone was being frisked and some sort of electronic wand was being
used to check for hidden surveillance. I panicked for a second, thinking about
the bug I had planted on Tomas. I’d have to get it back and somehow get it
past the security.

I sidled up to Tomas, giving him my best simpering smile.
“
Baby
, how long are we going to have to wait,” I said in my best
pouty voice. “My feet are killing me. You never said we’d have to stand in
line.” I patted his breast pocket looking for the bug.

“Looking for this?” Tomas pulled his hand from his pants
pocket and held it between our bodies out of view of the security. He had the
bug. “You should have asked me. I told you about the security.” He wrapped
his fist around the bug. “No cellphones or recording devices allowed. How do
you think they’ve managed to keep under the radar and off the internet?”

“Wait!” I hissed. “Don’t break it. I have an idea.” I
looked over at the security. They were all low-level vampires. I was sure I
could ‘Obi-wan’ them like I had others in the past.

“So do I,” Tomas replied, closing his fist around the bug
again. He waited a moment then opened his hand wide like a magician saying
‘ta-dah’. The bug was gone.

“Neat trick. But what good is it going to do us?”

“Trust me,” he replied, wrapping his arm around my waist and
goosing my side. “
Baby
.”

Before I could respond, a man hailed Tomas from across the
room. He was average height and build, dressed in a dark suit. His most
distinguishing feature was a cragged scar that carved its way across one cheek
and down his neck. He read as a mid-level Vlad to my supernatural power meter.

“Tomas,
mon ami
” he said. “I was wondering when
you’d show your sorry ass again.” He reached out and grasped Tomas’s hand in a
firm handshake, his other hand patting Tomas’s shoulder heartily. “And Isaac,
I heard you had decided to rejoin society.” He nodded at Isaac.

Isaac shrugged noncommittally, keeping his vigil slightly
off to the side of our little group.

“Marcel,” Tomas replied with a nod. “I’ve just been giving
you time to recover your losses from my last visit.”

“
Merde
. Don’t remind me. I still can’t believe that
scrappy little Mexican took down my big Russian.”

“Never discount speed over brawn, my friend,” Tomas said
with a wry smile. “You should know by now I only back winners.”

“
Oui
, yes, and speaking of winners, who is this lovely
prize?” Marcel directed a lecherous stare my way. Yuck. I fought the urge to
run home and take a shower. He pushed Tomas aside and reached for my hand,
grasping it in his before I had a chance to avoid it. “
Enchanté mademoiselle
.
So lovely to meet you.” He covered my captured hand with both of his
preventing me from pulling free. He smiled up at me, a wicked glint in his
eye. “I am Marcel, but you may call me
mon amour
, especially when we
are in bed tonight after I steal you away from Tomas.” He bent over my hand as
if to kiss it. No way that was happening.

“No, I don’t believe I will,” I said, pushing his head away
with my free hand and yanking my captured hand from his grasp.

A look of surprise passed over Marcel’s face for a brief
second, only to be replaced with a much more predatory, pissed off look. “My,
my,
la
petite minette
has claws.” His fangs descended. “
Bien sûr
. I love it when they fight back.”

“This cat has fangs too,
mon ami
.” I felt my fangs
snap into place and I gave him my best snarl – I’d been practicing. “Touch me
again and you’ll lose your hand.” I would have felt more confident with that
threat if I had my katana.

For the second time, I had shocked Marcel. I watched as he processed
the change in my status from human to other, from prey to possible predator.
Isaac, who had remained standing off to one side tensed, ready to step in if
necessary.

“This little kitty is not for you, Marcel. You’d best mind
what the lady says.” Tomas took a step towards me, putting himself between us,
his hand at my elbow.

Marcel eyed me again speculatively. Man, I’d love to play
poker with this idiot. Every single thought flashed briefly across his face.
“Could this be the famous
Mademoiselle
Russo? Salvador’s new pet?”
Marcel grinned.

I bristled at his words, but Tomas squeezed my arm painfully
and I kept my mouth shut. “You must forgive Marcel,” he said to me. “He’s
French which makes him believe he has a way with the ladies.” He turned back to
look at Marcel. “There are some things that are need to know and I would
prefer if they didn’t get spread around the whole club.”

“
D’accord
, of course,” Marcel nodded his head in
apparent understanding. “Well, I see that perhaps the stories haven’t been
exaggerated.”

I frowned. “What stories?”

“Perhaps we could take this conversation inside?” Tomas
interrupted. He pointed to the double doors on the other side of the security
line.

“
Certainement
. When I heard you were coming, I had a
table reserved for you in the balcony.” Marcel gestured with his hand for us
to precede him. “
Après vous
.”

Marcel walked us right past the security. I needn’t have
worried about the bug. In fact, I bet that jerk Tomas knew we wouldn’t have to
worry about security and made me leave my katana at home for no reason. Damn
him. I shot him a dirty look. He laughed, as if he knew what I was thinking.

We stepped from the relative calm of the foyer into chaos.
The evening’s event was well underway and the club was crowded. Nash’s
warnings did nothing to prepare me for what assailed my senses. My shields
were already full force, but I did what I could to bolster them against the
assault. What hit me first was the feel of the energy in the room. It was a potent
mix of sex and violence.

The room was set up concert bowl style with a caged-in boxing
ring at the lowest elevation in the centre of the room. Tiered seating circled
the ring, a mix of booths and tables, rising up to the level where we stood.
The place was packed, not an empty table in sight. From what I could tell, the
clientele was solely vampire, the norms that were present appeared to be there
as snack food and fuck buddies and I’m not exaggerating. It looked like
something that was half sporting event, half orgy.

In the ring, three bare-chested combatants wearing nothing
but tight fitting shorts wailed on each other in what appeared to be a no-holds
barred, anything goes attempt to be the last man standing. Those vampires that
were watching the melee in the ring did so with a look of carnal desire. The
majority were fanged out and the scent of blood hung heavy in the air. It took
all my will power to keep my own fangs hidden. Isaac shot me a look of
sympathy. I’m sure he was picking up on my distress.

Marcel had stopped at the top of a set of stairs that led
down further into the room. He breathed in deeply and then exhaled with a loud
‘ahh’ as if he was savouring the atmosphere. A roar went up from the crowd as a
fighter executed a spinning hook kick to one of his opponents. The man’s head
snapped to the side, blood spraying out across the ring and into the audience,
as he fell to the mat. The spectators closest to the ring reacted not with
revulsion but with excitement. One tall, thin male wiped the blood from his
cheek and sucked his fingers clean. There was a scantily clad brunette,
obviously human, sitting beside him. He yanked her closer by her arm and
proceeded to lick the blood spatter off her bare chest. She was wearing a
collar that was attached to a long leather leash and the vamp pulled on it,
forcing her head down towards his crotch.

My right hand itched for the feel of my katana. I clenched
my fists. As much as it outraged me, I couldn’t react. Isaac took a step
towards me and unobtrusively put his hand on my arm. Marcel looked back over
his shoulder at me, taking in Isaac’s hand and my clenched fists.

“Not to worry
minette
, where you will be seated you
won’t have to worry about the blood.”

“A little blood doesn’t bother me,” I replied, running my
tongue along my fangs. I was getting much better at this whole on-demand fangs
thing.

Marcel laughed heartily. “
C’est bon
!” He turned to
Tomas and added, “She is a feisty one,
mon ami
.” He winked at Tomas.

Tomas wrapped his hand around my waist, pulling me close.
“Yes, she is.” I wanted to wipe the smirk right off his face, instead I had to
settle on sticking my tongue out at him once Marcel had turned his back on us
and continued walking.

We came to a set of stairs leading up. There was a bouncer
on guard, so wherever we were going, was obviously by invitation only. The top
of the stairway opened out to another circular room. At the centre, the room
was open and looked down over the cage below. It was plush and extravagant,
reminding me of Salvador’s private lounge above Dante’s. Several of the tables
were occupied by vampires with their human servants. Marcel led us to a set of
low tables with a front row view of the ring. The seating was set up for easy
conversation and viewing of the fight below, a mix of low backed arm chairs and
sofas that also allowed a good view of the rest of the room.

I moved to sit in one of the armchairs, but Tomas grabbed my
hand and yanked me over to sit beside him on a small two-seater sofa.

“Join me on the
love
seat,” he said with an obnoxious
grin. I rolled my eyes, but kept my mouth shut. When he placed his hand on my
bare knee, I scowled at him and pushed it away, earning a laugh. He was having
way too much fun making me pretend to be his date. I think I preferred broody,
scowling Tomas over this new flirty one.

There was a bottle of Bollinger chilling on the table in
front of us. While Marcel and Tomas continued to chat, and Marcel poured us
each a flute of champagne, I took a minute to look around. The fight in the
ring below had come to its conclusion with two of the fighters moaning on the
mat, while the third, the apparent victor, swayed on his feet, leaning against
the side of the cage. Despite his injuries, he looked triumphant, one hand
raised above his head in victory. Several men in dark track suits swarmed the
ring. They must have been the clean-up crew, because they helped drag the
fallen men away and then began a quick wipe down of the splattered blood. The
victor managed to stagger away on his own two feet.

A few minutes later, a tall, hulking man, dressed like the
fighters from the ring, stepped off an elevator at the back of the room. I was
shocked when I realized it was the winner from the fight below. He walked
carefully across the room, you could tell it was taking a lot of effort not to
stagger, and stopped before a striking female vampire with long black hair. She
was dressed in a floor-length, slinky black gown and her expression was the
definition of ‘resting bitch face’. The man was covered in blood, both his and
his opponent’s. He wavered on his feet, barely able to remain standing. The
vampire bitch eyed him critically, casually reaching out with one finger to run
it through the blood dripping down his chest. She leaned back in her chair and
seductively sucked on her finger, her eyes never leaving the man. She said
something to him that was too quiet to hear, but the man nodded vigorously and
dropped to his knees, the pain the effort took etched on his face. He knelt
silently, his head bowed.

Even from across the room, I could see his laboured
breathing. The guy must have had some broken ribs or something. As the
minutes passed, his breathing became more like a loud, gasping wheeze. Just as
I was beginning to wonder why the hell he was there instead of getting medical
attention, the bitch vampire said something else and the man’s body visibly
relaxed. The vampire leaned forward, reaching into the bodice of her dress to
pull out a small blade, like the kind cutters use. She quickly slashed her
wrist and then held it out to the man, blood dripping freely from the cut she
had just made. The man grabbed her wrist and greedily slurped at the dripping
blood, a look of euphoria on his face. I turned away, unable to hide my look
of disgust.

“
Tu t’en sors, petite minette?
You okay?” Marcel
asked with a grin.

“I’m just fine,” I replied trying to keep my emotions off my
face. “Are all the fighters blood addicts?” Vampire blood, besides having
healing capabilities, was terribly addictive to norms.