Pn1 (2 page)

sidewalk without even a glance. He was someone she could definitely

use around more, very nice.

She watched the jacket fail to hide the lines of his bulging muscles.

Just who or what was he intending to pounce on? Now here was a guy

she should have at Clark tomorrow to keep the payroll in check.

She found her tongue fighting to get past teeth to lick her lips.

Down tongue, not in daylight where enemies could be watching
. Her

nostrils wriggled. Why?

She detested cologne; it masked the real smell of a man. As he got

closer, her nostril could not be stilled, and her stomach growled, or

was that her throat? Reny was definitely getting a raise tomorrow, and

double what she'd originally intended.

His hand engulfed the handle of the rear door and ratcheted it open.

She almost felt pity for the metal under his grip, almost. She couldn't

help but wonder what that grip would do to bone and sinew for both

good and bad. He screamed bodyguard in the making, and her father

had been on to her to get one with the last batch of threats against her.

He tipped his cap at her while opening the door. Stepping back to

let her in, his jacket brushed the tips of her fingers. It had to be static

electricity, but Helena would have sworn her body jolted back a step

or two. Could blood percolate, because something like soda water

swished through her veins?

She tried pulling herself together to get into the car with dignity,

but his hand came out to hold her arm, steadying her as she ducked

inside and sat down. Sweat formed where his hand was, sealing her

silk top and jacket together, so she felt like her clothing shrank while

her lungs worked overtime.

It wasn't until the door closed on her, and she tracked the shadows

through the shaded windows stating his location, that she noticed

there was a glass of champagne poured for her and that she no longer

had her purse. When the hell had he taken it? This was certainly not

normal protocol?

10

She was formulating a complaint when her mind registered three

things coming together so quickly she would have sworn it was

mechanically controlled. The backseat doors locked, the window

between her and the driver closed, and the car started.

Well he didn't waste any time in performing his duties, though she

would have to censure him on absconding with her purse, at least her

briefcase was still with her. Not his place to think what she would

need, even if he was right. That was definitely a spark of forward

thinking she would be strangling before much more time passed.

The car revved into park mode. Curiosity rarely was an attribute

blamed on her, but exactly where was he taking her? It wasn't Reny's

job to decide her destination, but with the champagne and limousine

clearly the girl had something in mind and well the night was young.

How much was the guy behind the wheel willing to do for his

payment? She pushed the talk button. "What time were you

scheduled for?" She needed a few basics to formulate a plan.

"As long as it takes."

To the point, very attractive and so full of innuendos. Was Reny

really this good at calculating her needs? There was only one way to

find out. After all, rest and relaxation always required a bit of

extracurricular activity and a good orgasm would do just the trick.

His body screamed the ability to hold out until she was satiated.

Clearly he could hold her down if needed so she didn't dislodge a

shoulder or hip.

She pushed the talk button again. "To the Seaside Hilton then." It

wasn't plausible to take him home like a good little puppy trained to

lick appropriately, but the Hilton knew well enough to keep a room at

the ready for her and to have all eyes covered.

* * * *

she was calculating her placement, trapped animal or safe zone? God

she was gorgeous. Through the rearview mirror, Constantine watched

her check him out then turn her head away.

He forced his hands to clench around the steering wheel then open.

One clench, two, three, shit, four, five, six. He couldn't let her get to

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him. He needed to repeat the gesture. Seven, eight nine, he could do

this.

And ten.

The glass and plastic between them was nothing more than a wisp

of mist that could be cleared with a good blow of his primed knuckles.

This close, nothing prevented her scent from filling up the car and his

nostrils. He really didn't need more proof, but the spiked champagne

was clear cut, not even the strongest of his desires could contrive up

such evidence for his wants. If it took her down...

She leaned back into the plush seat now, unbuttoning her blazer.

Her shoulders rolled back, straining the top button of her blouse the

button struggling to keep her breasts covered from his eyes. Strapless

bra, interesting, she didn't like to be confined more than necessary.

His pants tightened, and he had to shift in the seat, which reminded

him the car was still in park. He didn't want to start up until she had

taken the first sip, but how much longer was she going to make him

wait?

There it was. Her fingers moved to the glass, stopping to feel the

coolness on her fingers and luxuriate in what was about to cross her

lips. His own tongue curled up in his mouth wanting to shout for her

to go faster. God she was killing him.

Yes, the glass was moving in an arc that culminated in her lips.

What were her teeth like? Would she make him wonder by barely

parting her lips? Damn, she was a tease. The rim of the glass glided

past the pout of her lower lip, and her head tilted ever so slightly back.

This woman would make a killing on Madison Avenue. Those lips

alone could sell vodka to someone allergic to alcohol.

And touch down. Cup lowered, he watched her throat for signs of a

swallow. God, she was savoring the taste, moving it around in her

mouth. Her jaws moved side to side as if saying 'no' to him.

God damn it swallow. And there it was, going down. How far

down did her throat go? How much could she take without gagging?

Closing his eyes to rid himself of the thought, he missed the final

descent of the liquid churning past her esophagus and heading down

to the stomach held in by the tightness of her skirt.

12

His eyes opened with a snap. How much had his meditation cost

him? Ah, good. She was putting the cup down, and a little sloshed

over the side of the rim and beaded down the fluted sides to pool on

the tray. Her head bobbed, eye lids closing while she slid down into

the seat, collapsing in a heap, head against her knees.

Blood had spoken and vindication was his. No one would question

him ever again after a few weeks. He'd pegged her from the first sniff

in Rome and all the shadowing and wrangling to get this gig was pay

dirt. Constantine arched his neck back and howled, sound-proof cars

rocked as did tinted glass. Humans did have some usefulness with

their inventions and he'd let some live. But they really had to do

something about L.A.

Crunching the gearshift into drive, he careened out of the cul-de-sac

and let other driver's yield to him as he merged with traffic. A flick of

his eyes showed a very lovely woman had fallen sideways in the back

of his car. Saliva ran down the sides of his fangs, and he wiped the

liquid residue that didn't get swallowed back onto his sleeve.

Game time.

13

Constantine glided into the garage and killed the engine as the

automatic door creaked on its descent, shutting out the last putrid rays

of sun. Dry heaves, building up since waiting for her outside,

wracked his body. Now in safety, he let his body go into convulsions.

Acid welled up in his mouth, and he kicked his door open to spit out

the remnants of burnt stomach contents onto the pavement.

Steam billowed up from what he had regurgitated, filling the

blessed darkness with a stench that he loathed. But she was worth it.

She had to be worth it. His body ached too much when she was near

for this to be a worthless lark that would erase his name from the list

of contenders.

Cold chills swirled into the heat skimming down his spine, ending

in a riot of pinpricks going into his groin. No, she was the right one

for him ... if, if she could be turned and if she survived the turning.

And if no one back stabbed him or tried to annihilate him in the

process. So many ifs.

Footsteps approached, cadence alerting him to Jason's presence

even before the inner door opened bringing in candle light and the

held back dead air the warehouse had filled with since the last

carcasses were crated off for human consumption. He didn't bother

looking up with the drool still dripping from his lips and etching into

the concrete with a mixture of blood diluted acid.

A water bottle materialized before his bone dry eyes. "Drink.

There are electrolytes in it to replenish your blood and get the taste

out of your mouth." Jason unscrewed the top and held the bottle

against Constantine's lips until fingers grasped it.

Constantine took a long swig, pushing whatever still wanted to

evacuate back down into his stomach to find another way out of his

body. "Thanks."

"The guys are inside, handpicked to be the least likely to disobey."

He held the driver's door open so Constantine could slowly get to his

feet.

14

"Nice choice of words." Constantine gripped the top of the door and

lumbered to a standing position. Damn cars never had enough

shielding and fuck L.A. for not allowing the front window to be fully

tinted. What about driver rights?

"They're American. What can I say? You deserving their

allegiance hasn't been proven to them. You wanted this mission secret

so I had to pull from local muscle. And L.A. doesn't lead to the best

of the species. Only losers would get this as their range." Jason

moved away from the door so Constantine could shake himself.

Constantine twisted his arms side to side by the elbows to get his

spine to expel pent up heat and shook his long hair; the webbing

between his long spindly fingers sweating off the remnants of

poisonous sun. He opened his mouth and sucked the cooler air

through his front teeth and fangs, whistling with each inhalation.

"Should I be laughing at American Gangsters in a dilapidated meat

factory? There might even be a meat truck lurking around here."

Constantine slammed the door closed behind him. He never wanted

to step into another car during the daylight hours, Jesus.

"Thought you might appreciate the irony." Jason stood with his

hands clasped behind his back, head raised but eye lowered.

Constantine gave him a once over, far too perfect not to be reading

his mind on some level. No one read people this well without a little

help from the blood, the amount of planning free of hitches, the ideal

location, all masterly done with little of his own oversight leaving him

free to prowl and stalk the prey. There was no way this was all

because Jason was smart; there was something more at play.

One hurdle at a time, Jason wouldn't have a chance for quite a

while to show the true blood, and by then Jason would be entwined in

doing Constantine's work. Handled right, Jason could be made to feel

duty-bound to honor Constantine's help in moving up the ranks. And

that would be pay dirt if one day they had neighboring territories.

Also he would know Jason's proclivities inside and out.

Constantine ground his heels through the padding of the dress

shoes.
Focus on the now
; he had to stop being two or three steps

ahead of everyone else and think about the treat inside the car, candy

15

until it woke up and turned into a diabetic's worst nightmare. He

needed to act before her body neutralized the toxin and she became

the venomous biting snake he couldn't wait to torment onto the

defensive.

The bulge in his pants swelled, making him antsy. Time to get her

out of the car, there was no way she was a threat to him yet, he knew

that, but her nearness confused him, making him forget every few

breaths he was in control. If she could do this while unconscious,

what the hell would she be like raving mad and gnashing to bite his

jugular if he stoked her blood in that direction?