Dead Man Running: Book Two - Supernatural Bounty Hunter Romance Novellas Page 10

  Ruby smiled knowingly as Alma and Viktor exited the dressing room. She gave Alma an admiring look. “Found one you liked?” she asked, rubbing a long black nail over her bottom lip.

  Alma had always considered herself a sophisticated witch, yet in the company of these two vampires, she seemed to revert to the bashful teenager who had just been caught behind the gym having her first kiss. Ah, Mark Matherson-Young, he was absolutely terrible, mouth like a washing machine.

  Alma willed her cheeks not to redden. “Could I have a bag for my other clothes?”

  “Of course.” Ruby took out a large red bag with the shop’s name on the side and folded Alma’s street clothes inside. “You do look ravishable, you know.”

  Viktor gave the female vampire a withering glance and slapped three one hundred dollar bills on the counter. “We’ll take the one Alma is wearing, and this one.”

  Viktor flashed the dress they had destroyed, or rather the dress he had destroyed, at Ruby before pushing it into the gift bag.

  Ruby looked at him with innocent eyes. “Don’t you want me to fold that?”

  “No,” growled Viktor. “Keep the change.”

  He grabbed the bag and Alma’s hand before striding away.

  “It was nice to meet you,” called Alma, hurrying to keep up with her mate. The dress didn’t really allow a lot of movement.

  “And you. Do come back and see me soon, won’t you?”

  Her question was met by a terrific snarl from Viktor. Ruby’s melodious laugh followed them out the door.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Alma flashed a dazzling smile at the bear shifter bouncer. His lips twitched at her, the closest he could get to a smile. He took his job seriously.

  He inclined his head to the door and Alma sashayed past him. She forced a smile on her face as she ignored the annoying voice in her head. The voice belonged to Viktor, and he would not shut-up.

  Was she okay? Was she in danger? Did she want to leave? He started parroting the same questions over and over before she even made it inside. She tried to whisper at him to cram it, but he completely ignored her. The microphone was attached to her clutch purse; it was only tiny, but they feared it would still be too easy to detect on her dress, particularly if people’s eyes were glued to said dress.

  She looked amazing, even if she did say so herself. Her cheeks were still flush from their recent lovemaking, and the killer four-inch heels made her legs look even longer. She’d teased her hair and applied a fresh coat of lipstick. She looked like any man’s wet dream. Not bad, in the right light she really could pass for 30. Hell, if the club were dark enough, she might even manage 25.

  She garnered numerous appraising glances and smiles as she made her way through the club, from men and women alike. A number of the shifters sniffed at her and nodded appreciatively. Before she entered the club, she placed a spell over herself, to mask her scent and Viktor’s, which was all over her, and instead she was emitting a soft vanilla fragrance. The spell took quite a bit of energy, so she had to hurry. It was necessary though, the last thing she needed was James Marlowe turning up and scenting Viktor.

  Alma went to the bar and perched on one of the bar stools. She ordered a martini and surveyed her surroundings.

  The club wasn’t that bad. It was fairly dark, and the décor was red and black. It wasn’t that different from a regular club; all the patrons were still drinking and grinding against each other, but instead of dancing there was more spanking.

  She noted there appeared to be a number of doors leading to private rooms, at least she guessed that’s what they were, given that couples kept disappearing into them. She guessed they were for the acts that really were private.

  Alma gasped.

  “What? What is it?” squawked Viktor.

  “Wow that, that really is kinky…” she muttered. She wanted to look away, but she couldn’t bring herself to do so.

  “What’s happening?” asked Viktor impatiently.

  Alma sucked in a breath. “As long as I live, I will not speak of it,” she whispered.

  Viktor chuckled in her ear. “I thought you said you were a woman on the world.”

  “I stand corrected…”

  “You talkin’ to me?”

  Alma blinked and noticed a middle-aged, tubby, raccoon shifter stood next to her. He swayed slightly, and Alma almost gagged at the toxic fumes coming from his mouth.

  “No, definitely no,’ she told him crisply.

  He parked his bulk on the stool next to her. “Haven’t seen you here before.”

  His eyes sluggishly roamed over her body; he didn’t even try to hide his obvious arousal. Alma shuddered; he made her want to run home and take a shower, or three.

  “I like you…” he slurred. “Your tits are beautiful; I’d love to put some clamps on these babies…”

  He reached a stubby hand to her breasts, and Alma grabbed it and twisted. The shifter yelped in pain.

  Alma’s eyes shone in warning, as she ignored the ranting voice in her ear. “You try to touch me again and I’ll break your fucking fingers.”

  She let go of him, and he sneered at her. “You bitch…”

  A tall, well-built figure loomed behind the raccoon. He placed a manicured hand on the raccoon’s shoulder and immediately the shifter stilled.

  “Judge Stone, I believe it’s time you left.” The stranger’s voice was velvety and musical.

  The raccoon whined and nodded before slinking away. The stranger sat in the vacated chair. He was absolutely gorgeous; he was tall, with strapping muscles, straining at his expensive suit. His beautiful face was topped with a messy mop of golden hair. He looked almost angelic, although she could tell he was a vampire.

  “That guy’s a judge?!” exclaimed Alma.

  The vampire laughed melodically. “I’m told he’s a very fair and reasonable judge. The club just gives him a chance to let loose his wilder desires.”

  “Well, if his desire is to get drunk and creep women out, then he’s doing great.”

  James’ eyes hooded. “At least he has good taste. I’m James Marlowe, by the way. I own this club.”

  Alma’s smile froze on her face, and even Viktor was silenced. “I’m Victoria.”

  Why did she say that? It was just the first name that popped into her head, surprisingly before her own name.

  “The pleasure is all mine… Victoria.” He took her hand and brushed his lips over the back.

  “You need to get away from him,” intoned Viktor.

  Alma let out a small ‘mmm hmm’ noise.

  “You need to get away from him, now!”

  She forced herself not to grimace. Did he really think she hadn’t worked that out already?

  James signaled to the bartender, who swiftly passed him a glass of blood. “So, Victoria,” he let the name roll over his tongue seductively. “What brings you here?”

  Alma looked into his flawless face and his intense eyes. She reflected that if it weren’t for Viktor, she might have fallen for James. But there was no contest between the two vampires. Whilst both were devilishly handsome, Viktor still possessed warmth and humor. James’ face was coldly cruel.

  She suspected the reason he ran this type of club was that he enjoyed inflicting pain on others. No way would she trust him with a whip around her!

  She darted her gaze around the room, trying to affect an air of naughty embarrassment. “I’m just trying out new things.”

  James chuckled lightly. “I’d be glad to help you… try things out.”

  James casually brought his hand over to her neck and traced a long finger over her skin, right where Viktor had bitten her only an hour before. Thank god that had healed, thanks to Viktor’s marvelous healing blood. He smiled smugly as she shuddered, thinking it was out of desire, not realizing it was out of terror.

  Viktor was almost apoplectic; he was about ready to run into the club, consequences be damned!

  Alma scrambled to think of a reason to say no to
him, but thankfully she didn’t have to. Saved by the bell. The shrill ringing of his phone interrupted the growing tension between the two of them.

  James’ eye ticked before he excused himself, and walked a few feet away to take the call. Alma visibly sagged with relief.

  Viktor irritably demanded to know what was going on. She hushed him as she strained to listen to James’ end of the phone call. No such luck. She couldn’t hear a word James’ soft voice was saying over the sultry music, the thumps, cracks and groans of happy patrons.

  Moments later James returned, an unhappy look flicked across his face before he smothered it with a smile. “I apologize, but urgent business calls me away. I do hope we can pick this up at a later time.”

  Alma forced herself to breathe and behave normally, when all she wanted to do was jump in the air and shout ‘yipee.’

  She toyed with her glass and instead gave him, what she hoped, was a sultry smile. It was hard to gauge your own reactions when you were terrified; there was a chance that she was looking maniacal at that moment.

  Carefully controlling her voice she said, “Well, we’ll see.”

  James’ eyebrow twitched, and his smile deepened, flashing his perfect teeth. Alma was reminded of a particularly vindictive crocodile. She imagined he was used to women falling at his feet. Everything about him made her want to run to her own vampire and jump into his protective arms, but no, she could do this.

  James nodded at her and swiftly left. Alma wasn’t ashamed to admit she was trembling slightly.

  “Are you alright?” Her mate’s voice was laced with concern.

  “Umm hmm.” It was the best she could manage, plus she didn’t really want to draw more attention for talking to herself.

  “Either you need to hurry before James comes back or give in and leave immediately, I vote for the latter.”

  “I’m not leaving,” she whispered. No way was she giving in, which left option A. Finishing her drink she slipped off the stool and began a slow exploration of the club, vigilantly avoiding eye contact with any of the other patrons.

  Alma spied a corridor at the back of the club that had a ‘private’ sign. “I think I’ve found James’ office,” she muttered unobtrusively into her purse.

  Viktor huffed. He hadn’t liked her being in there in the first place, and every moment that passed just served to make him more agitated. He needed her out of there and safely in his arms. But… reluctantly, he did still want to help Julian, and part of him knew that if he did actually storm in there, Alma would have to be dragged out kicking and screaming. She was darn stubborn!

  “Fine, just make it quick,” he growled irritably.

  Alma threw her long brown hair over her shoulder and confidently strode past the private sign. She expected to hear shouts, and have burly bouncers lunge at her, but nothing happened. She sailed down the corridor, unhindered, like she hadn’t a care in the world.

  There were several doors along the corridor, all of which she tried. Along the way she found a dressing room, a broom closet, and a toy room containing various paddles, gags, whips and more. She narrated all of this to her edgy mate; at every turn she was met with the suggestion that she turn round and leave the club immediately. She gritted her teeth and tried to block him out.

  Finally, Alma came to a locked door. She figured this must be James’ office, or at least have something interesting behind it. Boring rooms didn’t tend to be locked.

  She murmured a few words in Latin and happily the lock sprung open. She pushed the door open, and found herself in a large, dark office, populated by antique furniture. Although given how old James must be, she guessed he probably bought the items from new. “Pipe down!” she admonished her purse, “I’m in James’ office.”

  Viktor quieted for a few moments before sighing. “Well, you’ve made it this far, just hurry up and get whatever information you can.”

  Alma shook herself, realizing she was just standing in the entrance, admiring his furniture. He did have very nice taste, and his desk was magnificent, she wondered how that would look in the bail bond agency... She stepped inside and magically relocked the door behind her.

  She clattered over to the desk and switched on his computer, and was repulsed to see that his computer wallpaper was of a woman orally pleasuring a well-endowed man. Yuck! If she didn’t already dislike him, this would certainly push her over the edge. Absently she wondered if he was the well-endowed man… no, focus, damnit!

  Alma retrieved a memory drive from her purse and pushed it into the computer. She began copying random files onto it, choosing the files James had looked at most recently. There were dozens of files, and it would take ages to go through them, she just prayed she was getting something useful.

  Every second she was here she became more agitated, and Viktor’s constant yammering, and telling her she was in danger certainly wasn’t helping.

  “Are you done yet? Maybe I should come in; if James isn’t there, it will be fine…”

  Alma rolled her eyes. “He’d still scent you’d been here, and that would raise red flags. We don’t want to put him on his guard just yet. I’m starting to think calling you Jessica Fletcher was being generous; you’re more like Inspector Clouseau!”

  “I never saw that movie,” he told her huffily, “and I am not!”

  Alma pulled out the memory drive and deposited it in her purse. “Besides, I’m finished now and I…”

  She froze; she could hear the clickety-clack of high heels and a female voice in the corridor, gradually getting louder.

  “Shit, shit, shit!”

  Alma scrambled to put the desk back in order and turn off the computer. She ran to one side of the office and then the other, debating her hiding place.

  “What’s happening?” She could hear the worry in her mate’s voice.

  “Someone’s coming, shut-up!”

  Finally deciding that hiding under the desk would be dangerous, she pulled aside a heavy black curtain and was pleased to find it covered a closet door. She swung it open and ducked inside just in time before the outer office door was unlocked, and a woman walked through.

  “Yes, Mr. Marlowe, of course, Mr. Marlowe. It won’t happen again, Mr. Marlowe.”

  James’ assistant, perhaps? Alma felt a small buzz of power and realized the woman must be a witch. Alma willed her own magic to stay in check; the last thing she needed was the other witch sensing her. On the plus side, the woman wasn’t a shifter or a vampire, so she couldn’t hear Alma breathing or scent her, Alma felt the tingling of her fragrance spell slipping.

  “Yes, absolutely, Mr. Marlowe. Mr. Harlot-Jenkins will receive the package in the morning. I will, goodbye, Mr. Marlowe.”

  “Dickhead!” yelled the other witch. Another witch who was apparently immune to his dubious charms.

  The witch stomped around the room for a few minutes, muttering inaudibly, although Alma could guess the subject matter.

  The other witch’s phone tinkled, and she let out an exaggerated sigh before she answered. “Yes, Mr. Marlowe?”

  The other witch was silent for a couple of minutes, and Alma held her breath. Did she know Alma was in the closet? Was she readying to open the door and pounce? Viktor thankfully had gone quiet, although she feared it meant he was preparing to storm in and rescue her. Part of her was excited at that, whilst another was resentful that he thought she needed rescuing.

  Alma almost leapt up the wall of the closet when the other witch started talking again.

  “No, the door was locked when I came in, all I know is that a woman was seen skulking around the entrance to the private corridor…”

  Alma felt the blood drain out of her face. Someone had seen her.

  “I see; I will have Ash guard your door for the rest of the night… Ash, he’s the rhino shifter, no Mr. Marlowe, nothing will get past him. Goodbye, Mr. Marlowe… Prick!”

  Alma listened as the other witch noisily left the office and locked it again. Alma sighed and slumped ba
ck onto the wall of the closet, giving a sharp yelp as something sharp dug into her back. She fumbled for a light switch and found herself surrounded by what appeared to be a large variety of medieval torture implements. She shuddered and stumbled out of there as quickly as possible.

  “Viktor? Are you still there?”

  No answer. Oh lord, what if James had found him sat outside the club in his car? What if James had hurt him?! She had to get out of there, pronto. She couldn’t use the door, not with an enormous shifter on the other side of it.

  Thankfully the office had a window, even if it was tiny. She was sure she could squeeze through; she was extremely motivated.

  Slipping her enormous heels off, she clambered onto the chest of draws under the window. With a few sharp pulls the window mercifully opened toward her, at least it would shut on the way out. She threw her shoes and purse out and wriggled her way through, squirming and grunting for all she was worth.

  A quarter of the way through, she panicked that she was never going to fit. Half way through, she got excited that she was going to make it, and three-quarters of the way she started panicking again, after she realized she was going to fall flat on her face.

  With a shriek, she plunged head first out the window and landed in a dumpster, on top of a nice pile of squishy garbage. Thank heavens for small mercies, she thought as she wiggled about and found her purse and shoes.

  “Terrific!” She started picking at some cold noodles that had attached themselves to her outfit, so much for wearing this dress again.

  Harrumphing, Alma waded to the side of the dumpster and was about to heave herself out when she heard loud, irate voices. She ducked down and hid amongst the garbage, fearing she had been discovered.

  She waited anxiously, preparing to send blasts of energy at whoever pulled her out of the dumpster. When nothing happened she peered out through her covering of garbage, and bit back a scream as someone poured something exceptionally smelly and cold all over her.