Here Comes the Vampire (3 page)

Twenty minutes and half a bottle of Cristal later, I walked out of the hotel room. While I could no longer feel my pounding head (yay), I was still fully tuned in to the guilt and angst (not so yay).

What had I
done
?

My hands trembled as I hit the button for the elevator.

More importantly, what was I
going
to do?

The doors swished open. I stepped inside and pressed for the lobby. I needed a plan. I couldn’t just accept my new status as a committed vampire, ditch my old life and head back to Connecticut as the new Mrs. Remy Tremaine.

At the same time, I
was
the new Mrs. Remy Tremaine (in the eyes of my family and every other BV on the planet). I’d said vows. I’d made a commitment. I’d stripped off my undies.

I glanced around and a strange feeling crept over me. This was it. Ground zero. Remy and I had had hot, hunka-hunka burnin’ sex in this very elevator and sealed our fate for eternity.

Probably.

Maybe.

My mind raced back through the previous night, rifling through the images, searching for the crash and burn that had doomed me to coupled bliss. Sex was
numero uno
to a vampire. We thrived on it. Even sloshed out of my skull, I would have remembered the good stuff. Him kissing me. Me moaning into his mouth. Him exploding inside of me. Me exploding around him. Me actually liking said explosion.

Unless I hadn’t liked it.

What if Remy had been a total dud and I had blocked it out on purpose because it had been too anti-climactic to even contemplate?

“Fake it.”

The familiar voice jarred me out of my mental interrogation. I whirled to find Mona in all her prom night glory leaning against the elevator wall. Mud smudged her left cheek and stained the neck-line of the fashion disaster she was wearing.

“Where’s Dewey?” I eyeballed the other four feet of empty space.

“I ditched him in the mud room. He’s probably wading through the graveyard dirt right about now.” At my surprised expression, she added, “It’s imported from one of the mass graves in Europe. Ixtab says it does wonder for the pores.” Her gaze met mine. “I hate Dewey, and I really hate that I have to spend the rest of eternity with him. Which is why I feel for you, girlfriend.” She leaned forward and her transparent finger touched the Emergency Stop button on the elevator. Cables groaned and the car came to a jarring stop.

“What are you doing?”

“Trying to help you. Listen,” she leveled a stare at me, “if you really want out of this marriage, you should fake it and get the hell out. He’ll probably cry a little because he thinks he failed you and he might even get mad because it’s a definite ego deflator, but then he’ll accept it, move on and bam, you’re free.”

“Fake it?” Now there was a word that wasn’t in the BV vocabulary. We didn’t fake. We didn’t have to fake. “It’s too late for that. We already did the deed last night.”

“I’m not talking about sex. I’m talking about the big D. Death. Destruction. If you kick the bucket, it’s over, right? He can’t very well reproduce with you if you’re just a big pile of ashes.” She leaned closer and her voice lowered a notch. “There’s a guy here at the hotel who’s a hit man for some of the Vegas mob. He also does work for a few Others who are into the mob scene, like Jimmy Montana.”

“
The
Jimmy Montana?” She nodded and my eyes widened. Jimmy Montana was leader of the entire werewolf nation. I’d never actuallry y met him since I’d led somewhat of a sheltered existence up until I’d opened Dead End Dating, but I’d heard my father gripe about him more than once. About how he was a prime example of why all weres should be neutered and spayed, and how it was no wonder Viola was such a pain in the ass.

Viola, my father’s next-door neighbor, was president of the Connecticut chapter of the Naked and Unashamed Nudist Sisterhood (a group of female werewolves that met weekly at her Fairfield estate) and a democrat, which meant she had a double bulls-eye on her back as far as my father was concerned.

They had a love/hate relationship. She loved rubbing his nose in the fact that she’d been awarded the prize-winning azalea bushes that sat on the property line separating their estates, and he’d drank enough Hater-aid to make a small remote-controlled nuclear device to wipe out said bushes and all the vegetation surrounding her swimming pool.

Long story short—BVs good, weres bad.

“Jimmy has a suite here,” Mona went on, “and Ralph—that’s the hit man’s name—does jobs for him. Ralph mainly works over Others who owe Jimmy money, but he’s got alimony payments out the ass so I’m sure he’d love a side job. For the right price, I bet you could persuade him to trade in his .45 for a wooden stake.”

“You want me to pay someone to stake me?”

“To make it look like he staked you. He wouldn’t actually do it, silly. Just make sure you explain the details to him really loudly. He’s a little hard of hearing. Jimmy sent him to collect money from this were deer last month. Jimmy said to break the guy—meaning a couple of bones. Ralph thought Jimmy said
steak
him and so he trussed him up, sent him to a game processing company and had him sliced, diced, packaged and frozen.”

“That’s awful.”

“That’s why you have to make sure he can hear your instructions. Better yet, text him. Ralph never leaves home without his iPhone.” When I didn’t look the least bit psyched by her brainstorm, she shrugged. “You have a better idea?”

She had me there.

But while her plan sounded good in theory, it was still too far out to even contemplate. Seriously. I wouldn’t just be faking my death with Remy. I’d be faking my death to the entire BV world. I’d basically have to cut all ties, disappear, assume a new identity and start over. No Dead End Dating. No friends. No family, in particular a grandchild-obsessed mother nagging me every time I turned around.

All right, so maybe it wasn’t
that
far out. People disappeared all the time and changed their identity. I had no doubt I could visit theespionagestore.com, pop a new name and some stats into my shopping cart and be in and out in less than a minute.
And
with free shipping.

I entertained the notion a few moments before accepting the truth--I liked being Lil Marchette. Sure, I had a ridiculously long name and crazy ass relatives and a Visa bill that would make Donald Trump cringe, but overall, I was good. Happy. “I can’t just abandon everything. I’ve got my business. Responsibilities. Ty.” His image rushed at me and my stomach hollowed out. “He’s my boyfriend. I can’t disappear without explaining things to him.”

“So you’re going to tell him?”

“Are you crazy? I can’t tell him I cheated and committed myself to another vampire. He’ll break up with me.” I shook my head. “I have to figure out something else.”

“File for a divorce.”

“There is no divorce for a born vampire. Once we consummate, it’s forever.”

My head started to pound again despite the numbing effects of the champagne. Guilt pushed and pulled inside of me, warring with the tiniest hope that maybe it was all a big mistake. Logically I knew that I hutenew thaad more-likely-than-not slept with Remy. I’d been drunk enough to commit myself to him in the first place. I wasn’t naive enough to think that I’d had a lightning bolt moment and put on the brakes just before sliding into home plate.

Still, I had no proof. No clear memory. No feelings or images or YouTube video to remind me of the biggest mistake of my afterlife.

The moment the thought struck, my gaze snagged on the black reflective square staring back at me from the keypad. A red light blinked above the square next to a
You are Under Surveillance
tag.

“There’s a security camera in here,” I blurted.

“Duh.” She shrugged. “They’re all over this place. This is a hotel and casino. One of the biggest moneymakers in town. The staff monitors everything that goes on.”

Meaning they saw it all. A woman counting cards at the Hold ‘Em table. A man switching die at the roulette wheel. Two vampires having crazy monkey sex on the elevator.

“If we really did do it, it would have been recorded,” I heard myself say. Desperation rushed through me and my heart started to pound. “I have to see the footage.” My gaze caught Mona’s. “Do you know where they keep stuff like that?”

“I like the fake death idea better, but to each his own.” She shrugged. “There’s a security station on the second floor.”

I punched the button and braced myself as the elevator starting moving again. This was it. My chance to prove my innocence.

If
my gut was right.

And if not?

“What’s Ralph’s cell phone number?”

CHAPTER FOUR

Whoever came up with the phrase
Everything is Bigger in Texas
had clearly never been to Sin City. We’re talking mega-sized hotels, massive casinos, gargantuan ice sculptures, fifty foot breakfast buffets, Quadruple D pole dancers. Vegas was the mother of big and outrageous.

So I shouldn’t have been the least bit surprised when the elevator doors whisked open and I found myself staring up at a freakin’ monster of a security guard.

He was as wide as he was tall with a shiny bald head and a thick meaty neck. A black suit hugged his massive body and a frown pinched his dark brows.

I reminded myself of all the reason why I shouldn’t shake in my shoes.
Numero uno
? I was a vampire, i.e. a total B-A-D ass. I could leap tall buildings and read minds and sway the masses with one flash of my irresistible smile.

I sucked up my courage and stared straight into his baby blues. His personal info flashed through my brain like the trailer for a really boring movie.

Title? Frankie Jenkins. Plot line? He’d been working at the Mayan since they’d opened their doors several months ago. He was actively trying to nab a trio of card counters who’d been working the local casinos for the past three weeks. Before that he’d been assistant to the chief of security at the Bellagio. Before
that
, he’d been the second casino officer at Paris. He was born and raised in Vegas, and he’d never been anywhere else. Except for a Mexican jail down in Tijuana. He’d done six months for starting a bar fight before his mother had finally bailed him out. It had been the worst time of his life and the best. He’d learned how to survive any situation. He’d also learned how to make his own tattoo ink with a few burned bible pages, a ball point pen and a vial of pee.

Can you say too much back story?

I shook off that last bit of info and pasted on my most dazzling smile. “Hi there. My name’s Lil.”

His thick eyebrows drew together as if I’d/p> just stomped on his little toe. “You shouldn’t be up here.”

Duh.

My smile grew bigger. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to bother you, but there’s something I need. Something only you can help me with.” I stared deep into his eyes and played the mesmerizing vamp card.
You’ll give me anything I want because I’m super hot and super sweet and you can’t resist me because I have major vamp skills including the ability to glamour you with one glance.

His gaze went blank for a long moment before reality seemed to click. He blinked before shaking his head. His brows drew together. “We don’t allow guests on this floor. You’ll have to leave.” His gaze dropped to my shoes. “But first you’d better tell me where you snagged those Pradas.”

Did I mention he’d met a fellow inmate named Raoul and fallen madly in love during the Tijuana stint?

“You’re gay,” I stated, anxiety rushing through me as I realized my vamp charm was null and void on this guy.

“Yeah.” He glared. “You got a problem with that?”

“Of course not.” I was an equal opportunity matchmaker who believed in love and happiness for every person. Unless, of course, said person was blocking my way to freedom.

I stared deeper into Frankie’s gaze, looking past the hot, humid nights with Raoul to the other important events that had shaped the security guard into the, ahem,
man
he was today. His crush on the captain of the Basketball team. The sixth grade birthday party sleepover that had killed his interest in GI Joe and made him a Barbie fan for life. His numerous Sundays spent helping his mom in the kitchen.

“I came to Vegas to meet my biological mother for the first time,” I blurted, playing what I thought would be my best sympathy card. “I think she may have paid a visit to my hotel room last night while I was out. I,” I gave a huge shudder, “I can’t believe I missed her.”

He folded his beefy arms in front of him. “So call her up and schedule another meeting.”

“If only it were that simple.” I plopped down another card. “But she was on her way to do charity work in Guatemala. See, she helps build schools for poor children.” When he didn’t look the least bit moved, I decided to go for broke and lay down the entire deck. “She also brings food to them in addition to building schools. Lots of food. Particularly spaghetti. She delivered six tons of sauce and six hundred and eighty loaves of garlic bread just last week. She’s trying to spread the joy of Italian food everywhere she goes.”

“No way?” When I nodded, his stance seemed to relax just a hair. “Everyone deserves good pasta once in a while.”

“Exactly. That’s why she had to leave. She has another delivery to make and she couldn’t miss her plane. She won’t be back for six months this time. I’ve already waited twenty-four years to see her.” I sniffled and blinked and a tear slid down my cheek. “Can you imagine not seeing your own mother,” sniffle, blink, tear, “not knowing what she looks like or hugging her or tasting her cooking for
twenty-four
years?” When he shrugged, I squeezed out a few more tears. “All I want is to see her just once. That’s it. Just a quick peek to tide me over until I can meet her face-to-face and give her a great big hug. Surely you can understand my situation?”

He didn’t answer for a long moment, but I could see the indecision pushing and pulling inside of him. Finally, he shrugged and I gave myself a mental high five.

“I suppose I could let you take a look at yesterday’s surveillance.” He glanced behind him to make sure the hallway was clear before signaling me to follow. “All of the day’s video surveillance is downloaded from the hard drive onto recordable DVDs the morning after. We store t to. We sthem in here.” He stopped in front of a door on the left. He punched in a few numbers on the keypad and the knob clicked. “They’re arranged by date. Last night’s just hit the shelves.” He indicated a three foot row of slim cases lining the left wall. “There.”