Stake-Out (Paranormal Detectives Series Book 1), page 6
He wished he didn’t find her so attractive. They were fighting together to save the city, possibly the world, from a bloodthirsty vampire. They didn’t have time for his uncontrollable, teenage hormones. Why the Hell would she wear that of all things? Surely she had a comfy pair of flannel PJs, right?
Without saying a word, he went into the bathroom, which had a black and white motif, and shed his wet clothes, putting on the black sweatpants and grey Batman T-shirt. His Italian and Brazilian hair didn’t stand a chance against the Chicago weather and he didn’t bother trying to tame it. What he wished he could tame was what was in his pants. The last thing he wanted was to weird her out that her partner, whom she barely knew and who was twice her age, had the hots for her. Oh, well. Maybe she wouldn’t notice. He put his jeans and sweater (very expensive ones, he had to admit) in the dryer and turned it on.
“Coffee or tea?” she called to him from the kitchen.
“Coffee, thanks,” he replied, walking into the kitchen behind her. “Can I help you with anything?”
She shook her head. “I’ve got it. Go make yourself comfortable. I lit candles in case the power goes out, just so you know. Try not to burn the place down, okay?” She winked.
He sat down on the plush couch and picked up a book that had been lying on the coffee table. Vampires: The History. Definitely not your typical “coffee table book”! He picked up the one below it: Mr. Mercedes by Stephen King. He shivered. King stories always gave him the willies. The final book made him smirk: Dance Upon the Air by Nora Roberts. Looks like the tough Goth vampire-killer had a sensual side. That was a novel about a sexy policeman.
“Perusing my library?” she asked, startling him. She placed a tray with coffee, cream, sugar and a few cookies that looked homemade on the table, pushing aside the books.
“You read three books at once?” he said, taking the coffee with one teaspoon of sugar.
She shrugged. “I’ve gone up to six at a time, but who’s counting?” She grabbed the TV remote. “What genres do you like?”
“Well, we can refrain from horror if you don’t mind,” he laughed. She surfed Netflix and chose to watch a few episodes of SGU Stargate Universe. “I have to ask…since this is set in outer space and all…are aliens real?”
She shrugged. “Never seen one, but that doesn’t mean that they aren’t.”
They sat comfortably together watching the show. He liked the feel of her so close, just next to him, but not touching. She was a restful person. He stole glances over at her whenever she seemed super engrossed in the show (co-starring someone from Supernatural, of course). Her legs were curled under her, making her look younger than 24. Her curves might have been unattractive to some snobs, but to him they were perfect and he wished he had the courage to hold her close, just to see what it felt like.
He was about to say something when a crash of thunder shook the entire apartment, making them both jump. The TV flickered a few times and Angelica immediately turned it off, for fear it might catch fire.
“Shit!” The wind whipped harder again as he peeked out the windows. “It’s a ghost town out there.”
“I love thunderstorms, but even I wouldn’t be crazy enough to go out in one!” She laughed.
“You like storms? I find them restricting.”
She smiled at him again. He decided he liked her smile better than her killing-grimace. “Storms in the fall, when it’s cool, but not cold out, are so romantic. I always imagined being held by a fireplace or candlelight while a storm tore up the town outside. I think I liked the idea of being safe inside, warm and loved.” Her gaze turned distant and she blushed a little. “I’m sorry, that sounded so…suggestive.”
“Yeah, it did, but you don’t have to apologize.” He reached out and covered her hand with his. “You’re a romantic person underneath that hard exterior. Did you ever get to be held and loved during a storm?”
“Once. But it didn’t end well.” Her voice was so quiet, he barely heard her over the thunder.
“Then come here. I promise it will end well tonight.” He pulled her to him, praying she wouldn’t shoot him. Her cool skin brushed his shirt and she felt how warm he was. She looked into his brown eyes, and he felt his own feelings were mirrored in her dark eyes as they filled with tears. “Don’t be sad,” he whispered. He leaned down and pressed his lips to hers and she didn’t pull away.
Wrapping her arms around his neck, she moved closer, almost into his lap, and began to kiss him back. “I’ve been dreaming about this for a long time,” she said into his ear.
“So have I.” His hands slid down her back, to where her skin was exposed and then continued lower, over her bottom and thighs. She was so soft. He began to kiss her neck and she moved to give him better access.
He pressed his lips to her skin, and rubbed his beard along her sensitive skin. Warning bells sounded in his mind, but he ignored them. They could deal with the aftermath together the next day. Right then, neither had ever needed another person the way that they needed each other.
She slipped her cold hands under his shirt, running her hands over his soft skin and hard muscles. He was glad his age had not slowed him down in the gym! She moved and tugged it off, over his head, revealing his body, chest lightly covered in hair and skin a beautiful, natural light tan.
“Are you sure you want to do this, Angelica?” he asked, in a last attempt to stop what could have been a major mistake.
“I’m sure. And call me Angie.”
“I thought you hated that?” he asked, confused.
She smiled and said, “I hate that from most people. You’re not most people. Come on.”
She tugged on his hand and they entered her bedroom (after blowing out all but two candles in the living room; the two they left they brought with them to the bedroom). It was as dark as the living room, and as beautifully furnished, with an antique wooden bed with black and dark red silk sheets, throw pillows, a canopy and dark-stained furniture: an armoire, a dresser/vanity and a small writing desk. On the walls were framed book and horror movie posters, along with some music memorabilia and Edward Gorey prints.
He kissed her again after putting the candles down and his hands immediately went under her tank top. He lifted it over her head, revealing a sexy, soft body every woman should, in his opinion, have.
They shed the rest of their clothes and she teased him into bed where he proceeded to have the best sex in his entire life…three times.
****
He saw, beneath the blackout curtains, that the edge of sky was grey and not black.
“Sun’s rising,” Angie commented, propping herself up on one elbow while running the other hand absently through his hair. “Maybe we should sleep.”
“The storm stopped. I can go if you want me to,” he said, hoping she wouldn’t kick him out of bed.
Shaking her head she simply told him, “Stay.”
So he stayed.
Chapter 6
“And if they get me take this spike and/Put the spike to my heart.” —My Chemical Romance
Danny woke up groggily, unsure of why he was sleeping in a lady’s bedroom. He then heard rock music playing— Buckcherry, if he remembered right— and remembered how amazing the previous night had been. He checked the clock and it read 4:05 P.M. He’d slept the day away.
“Angie?” he called, slowly getting out of bed and finding his boxers on the floor.
She peeked her head around the hallway corner. “Good afternoon. Pancakes or French toast?” She was wearing a floor-length, fluffy black chenille robe. She had a steaming mug of something in one hand and a spatula in the other.
“Uh, whatever you’re having is fine, thanks. Can I grab a shower?” he asked, feeling a little sheepish the morning after.
“Sure. Your clothes are dried and folded in the laundry room. Extra towels are in the linen closet to your left. We have to be in the PID offices by six-thirty to make our official statements about last night.” She turned away, and he went toward the bathroom.
He turned the water on hot and stood under the spray with his eyes closed, savoring the last twelve hours. He wished all his days and nights could be like this one, but he knew, now that he was an official vampire hunter, that his nights were only going to get worse from here. At least he’d be by Angie’s side for a while. Her strength and calmness balanced his constantly swirling thoughts and emotions. She was the perfect three S’s: sweet, smart and sexy. When he was with her, he thought that maybe things could turn out all right after all.
The music got louder, a sexy track by an old 80s rock band, and he jumped as the shower curtain was pulled back. Angie stepped in with him, wrapping her arms around him, her soft skin warm for once.
He kissed her, feeling whole for the first time in his life. Suddenly, he had another flash of memory…
****
He was lying down in a hospice bed from the early 20th Century. He could feel pain slowly fading from his aching body.
“Is that better?” a soft, sweet voice asked. He felt a hand through his hair and opened bleary eyes to see Angie, in that same old-fashioned garb, tears in her eyes and falling down her cheeks, turning them red from mixing in her blush.
“Yes. My love…I’ll miss you,” he said.
“I’m so sorry. I should’ve changed you. I don’t want to lose you,” she said, her voice cracking.
He shook his aching head. “No, Angel, you did what you felt was right. We’ll meet again one day, I promise.”
****
“Danny? You with me?”
He snapped out of his reverie to see Angie, her hair wet, looking at him worriedly.
“Yeah. Sorry. …Just another weird memory.” He kissed her again, reaching to caress her bottom. “I’ll tell you about it later.”
After the most fun shower Danny had ever had, they sat down (fully dressed) at Angie’s kitchen table, watching the 5 P.M. news and eating a fresh breakfast. He never would’ve guessed that she could cook so well.
“So?” she asked.
“What?”
“The memory you had. What was it?”
He sipped some coffee and said, “I was dying. You looked young and you were crying, saying you should’ve helped me…I think you used the word ‘change’. I called you ‘angel’. I don’t know if it was your real name or a nickname I’d given you. I told you that you did what you felt was right and that we’d meet again. I made it a promise. I guess…this is why we’re drawn to each other now. In our previous life, we were in love.” He grinned. “At least you know I never break a promise.”
She smiled, but her eyes were distant. He wondered if she had any memories from their previous lives together, things she wasn’t telling him.
“You should write these flashes of memory down in a notebook. Maybe they’ll make a complete picture one day. We’ll talk about it more at the office, and see how we can proceed training your mind to use these powers to their fullest.”
She got into his car without thinking, and he felt as if this was the way it had always been. He wished it was the way it would always be.
****
At the office, Director Dominic looked as if he’d had a rough night. The sights he’d seen at the crime scene the previous night must have kept him awake most of the night. Angelica knew he’d been to many civilian crime scenes, and quite a few paranormal ones. That had been the most brutal by far. And now he had to relive it as he read the reports both Angelica and Danny were writing up. Angelica has told him it would get easier to see things like that, but she knew he didn’t think he’d ever be used to it.
Angelica entered his office, closing the door behind her. She felt odd, and she couldn’t hide a mixture of happiness and depression in her dark eyes as she approached him.
“Can I help you?” he asked.
“Danny is having flashbacks of the past. I still don’t know if this is good or bad. I’d like to think that it’s good, but…with him, who knows?” she said, beginning to pace back and forth.
“Is he fully precognitive, or only of his own past?” Dominic asked.
“Fully. He saw, in a very vivid dream, what happened when Vincent was first turned in 1814. He sure as Hell hadn’t been there at the time!” She ran her hands through her hair. “I’m afraid the memories might begin to overwhelm him. That’s the last thing this investigation needs right now— a detective who can’t keep his shit together. Can we have one of our witches work with him ASAP, please?”
He typed a memo in his computer about it and told her he would have someone work with him as soon as he weeded out the best of their magical operatives.
Danny entered then, his report finished. Dominic was about to dismiss them when he received a phone call. He told them to wait while he talked. “Dominic, PID. Can I help you? …Hello, Captain Briggs. Where are you from, you said? …All right. What can the PID do for the town of Lombard?”
Angelica’s eyes widened. She had lived there, doing an undercover investigation of a small nest of vampires that called the small suburb home since the early 1990s. All the vampires were young and reckless, but not dangerous. Had something changed?
“I see. I will have my top detectives on the case tonight. …Yes, of course. You’re very welcome.” He hung up the phone and rubbed between his eyes.
“The nest you investigated, Angelica, you determined that they were not a threat, correct?” he asked.
“Yes, sir. Their leader was a very levelheaded person. He kept them all in line. Has something changed?” she asked, afraid to hear the answer.
He nodded. “It started with the farm animals, then the local pets. Finally, three children have been murdered and one is missing. The three found had their throats ripped out and were nearly bloodless. Fortunately, from the dates he gave me, none were turned. Can you both head over there tonight and check things out?”
Angelica and Danny glanced at each other and nodded. Soon enough, they were driving out to the suburb.
****
On the drive to Lombard, Angelica was uncharacteristically silent. Danny knew that she had some sort of history with them and that, usually, they were some of the “good vamps” (though he didn’t believe that undead bloodsuckers could actually ever be truly good). Maybe her analytic mind was just trying to piece together what had gone wrong.
He could’ve told her that evil was evil, even when evil tried oh, so hard to be good. Sure, maybe the creatures really wanted to be virtuous, but in his experience with perps in the CPD, tigers didn’t change their stripes. He’d seen criminals stay clean for decades and then, with no warning, go back to being a rapist/pimp/prostitute/murderer. Plus, vampires were built with an unnatural bloodlust. You can tamp something like that down, but you can’t banish it completely.
“How many are there?” he asked.
“Last I knew there were six, but that number could’ve changed since then.” She lowered the radio. “These are very young vampires, prone to violence and lying. They’ll do anything to get you off their backs, and murder is what comes right after telling you everything you want to hear. Treat them nicer than your usual perps, but be even more wary of everything that comes out of their mouths.”
He nodded. Though he hadn’t had any experiences killing live vampires, he felt ready. The workouts and vitamin supplements he was given had made him feel invincible.
They arrived and pulled the car into a strip mall with a pizza place and a 7-11. Their intended targets, Angie said, were across the street. Across the street was a large park with chemically green grass and a large pond with chemically blued water. The fountain in the middle was dry, since it was about ten at night, but Danny could imagine how picturesque it all looked in the daytime, with the suburban families all gathered from their uniform townhouses to sit in the sun and have a picnic. All those families now looked as if they were asleep. It was as quiet as a tomb.
As they got closer to the park, he noticed a group of kids who looked as if they had been around or younger than Angie’s age when they had been turned. There were only five of them, and all of them were wearing well-cut black suits, even the women, as if that was the nest’s uniform.
A seductive girl with blonde hair who couldn’t have been older than eighteen, physically, squealed when she saw them approach. “Angelica! What are you doing back?” Her voice had a French-Canadian ring to it. “Is something wrong?”
Angelica gave a smile that said there was nothing wrong at all when she replied, “I’m actually in town on business.” Her eyes scanned the group critically. “Where’s Trent?”
Trent, Danny knew from reading the file before hitting the road, was the nest’s leader and a “vampire pacifist”. If he was actually non-violent, his absence did not strike either of the detectives as a good sign.
Another vamp, looking like he was anywhere from 18 to 30, stood up. He was rail thin, but a beautiful specimen. He was tall, about 6′3″, with Kool-Aid red hair done in a punk rock style. His eyes were the black and red of an angry and/or hungry vampire. Danny could bet his paycheck that this man was not a vampire pacifist! He reached for his silver-bullet-filled Glock. His first mission was to protect Angie.
“Jerry,” Angelica acknowledged, also giving him a critical glance.
“Angie, it’s wonderful to see you again,” he said, his voice as smooth as fine chocolates. Danny felt a jealous twinge at this thing using the nickname she claimed “not most people” were only allowed to use. “Unfortunately, Trent was usurped…by me. I’m the new leader.” He smiled, his ivory fangs flashing.
****
The hairs on the back of Angie’s neck rose. Jerry had always been the most rebellious member of the nest and now all the pieces fell into place: he’d gotten fed up with living within the boundaries of the law, killed Trent and forced his rules— murder and mayhem— upon the rest of the nest. He had probably threatened them with death had they not complied.
