The Nightlife: London (Urban Fantasy Romance) (The Nightlife Series) (8 page)

“I came all the way across the ocean with my boys, ready to
take these bitches down, and you don’t know where to find them?”  Luis leaned
into Michael Jamison’s face with a sneer of irritation.  The overpowering
stench of the Colombian’s fetid, meat-eating breath washed over him.  Mike felt
like gagging, right after breaking the man’s neck.

Fists clenched, the adrenaline of the hunt surging through
his body, strengthening his limbs, Mike fought down the urge to kill this
stupid little man.  Just a little longer and these men would solve his
problems.  Just another day or two.

Oh how he wished he had never purchased that stupid pistol
and brought attention to himself.  Mike had always carried a gun, ever since
his Special Forces days in Iraq.  Running the private eye business, you never
knew when you might need a gun to get out of a tight spot.  But it was high
time he learned to manage without.  It’s not like any of these fucks could take
him down.

Gritting his teeth, he spoke slow and easy to make sure the
idiots understood him.  “They’re not far, we will find them soon.” 
Breathe
in, breathe out, calm, cool, let the rage float away
.  “Bresnik has seen
them here, in Soho.”

Luis turned on his friend.  “So, if you saw them, where the
fuck are they?”

Bresnik sat back in his squeaky office chair, relaxed,
smirking.  “Nicky saw the Russian at a liquor store not two blocks away.  He is
parked there now, waiting.”

Luis snapped his fingers.  “Abel, ven.”  The Colombian
stepped into the office, at the ready. 
“Vete con dos hombres por
la tienda.  Nicky esta por alla, esperando los putos.” 
Abel nodded.

Luis turned back to Bresnik.  “How do you know the Russian
will show up again?”

Bresnik snickered.  “He is Russian.  They bathe in vodka.”

Mike found the whole idiotic exchange aggravating.  These
fools couldn’t stake out a women’s bathroom.  He wondered how the cartels and
mafia functioned with such gross incompetence.  No surprise these men end up in
dead or in prison, they’re too stupid to get away with the shit they do.

Mike stood up to go.  “I will find him.  Give Nicky my cell
number.  As soon as he sees the Russian, or any of the others, have him call me
directly.”  He made for the door with the intense need to leave the room before
he broke somebody’s neck.  These men made his bloodthirst boil in his gut.

“Hold up.”  Bresnik stood and followed him out the office
door and down the hallway.  “What did you find out about the blonde?  I want to
know more about her.  She had on over four thousand pounds in that dress and
fur, probably more with the boots.  A very expensive whore, wouldn’t you say?”

Mike almost ripped Bresnik’s arm out his socket when the man
grabbed him at the elbow.  The bastard didn’t realize he was seconds from
death.  Breathing to find some calm, Mike hesitated.  He didn’t want to go down
this road, enmeshed in all this dirty cartel maneuvering.  He just wanted Aaron
and Michelle to go away, permanently.  But Bresnik might need a little extra
motivation if the going got tough, something to keep him focused on the target.

“I can tell you she’s loaded.  Has a mansion in Paris.  My
best estimate is she’s worth double digit millions.  She inherited it all from
her grandmother.”  Mike suspected Michelle’s grandmother was actually an alter
ego of Michelle herself.  There probably never was a grandmother.  He reassured
Bresnik.  “I’ll tally it up for you in an email.”

Bresnik’s eyes gleamed with greed.  The man was sickeningly
transparent and predictable.  “Any family that will come looking for her?”

“Nope.  She is completely alone in the world.  The man with
her, Aaron, they just met a few months ago.  If the two of them disappeared
tomorrow, no one would care apart from her bankers.”

That was precisely what Bresnik wanted to hear.  The man’s
eyes displayed all the things he contemplated doing with Michelle de Mornac’s
money.  These people were some kind of wicked.  In all Mike’s time in the
military, a tour in Iraq, then his years as a private investigator, he had
never encountered anything quite like the Albanian mafia.  Terrorists, drug
cartel, trafficking in sexual slavery: nothing was sacred with these people.

“I’ll have Nicky call ya.  From there it’s on you.  You’re the
investigator.”

All Mike wanted at that moment was to investigate where to
hide Bresnik’s corpse after he tore his flesh to pieces and drained him of
every last drop of blood.  Mike shook it off, nodded, and walked away before he
killed the fool.

He needed to see Laura immediately to take the edge off this
damned unmanageable thirst.

* * * *

Michelle slinked into Belgravia Police Station late
afternoon, just after dark, hoping to catch the man in charge of the homicide
case before he left for the day.  Rising on her tiptoes, she leaned over the reception
counter, blasting the officer behind the bullet-proof security glass with a
full measure of her cleavage.  He looked down at her flesh on display and then
looked up into her mesmerizing eyes.

“
Monsieur
,
would you help me find Detective Sergeant Billings?  Is very important.”

“I’ll check if he’s here.”  The officer could barely tear
his gaze away from her to look at the clock.  “He normally works late.  You
might be in luck.”

He grinned at her, unblinking, enraptured.  She slipped on
her rose-colored glasses to break the spell.  He shook himself and smiled
sheepishly, then picked up the phone and dialed a number.  “Hello, sir, there’s
a … excuse me, what’d you say your name was?”

“Michelle.”

“Ah, there’s a woman named Michelle here to see you.  And it’s
urgent
.”  He winked at her.  His aura glowed with an earnest desire to
please.

Men were so predictable.  Flash a little skin, a genuine
smile, direct eye contact, and they all scrambled to meet her needs. 
Unfortunately, she was difficult to please, and far more difficult to live
with, if they survived at all.

“Well, sir, she’s here to see
you
.”

Michelle’s acute hearing picked up the grumpy voice of the
reluctant man on the other end of the call.  “I don’t care if she’s here for
the bloody prime minister, I still don’t know who she is or what she wants!”

Blushing in embarrassment, the officer whispered low into
the phone.  “David Cameron himself wouldn’t turn this one away.  You’d best
come down.”

“Bloody hell.”  A slamming click indicated the Detective Sergeant
had hung up.

The officer grinned again, pretending he hadn’t just been
snubbed.  “Yes sir, she’ll be here waiting.”  He calmly replaced the phone on
the receiver base, trying to hide the red flush of his humiliation.

Michelle pressed her chest forward another inch, exposing
even more cleavage, and whispered sweetly.  “
Merci
beaucoup
.”

He had earned his reward, a flash of white breast and a hint
of pinkish-brown nipple.

He wanted more from her, more of her time, attention, her
breasts.  His desires permeated his aura, lust written all over his face.  Lucky
for him she did not indulge his hopes.

Men did not fare well with her prolonged attentions.

A moment later, a security door to the side buzzed open.  A
large overweight man entered the reception area and walked straight for her. 
He had an acne-scarred bulbous nose and a comb-over that didn’t quite hide his
massive bald spot.

Not a pretty man, not at all.

Michelle knew his type.  This was the kind of man who
readily paid her
escort service
fees of one thousand an hour, two hour
minimum.  He walked right up to her, and his stern look took in her measure.

She turned her back on the officer at the counter to focus
on her target.  “
Bonjour
. 
Detective Sergeant Billings?”  She removed her rose-tinted shades and gave him
the full force of her gaze.

Gradually the Detective Sergeant’s icy demeanor thawed.  His
frown turned upwards into a grin.  “Michelle, is it?”

She smiled brightly and stepped in close.  “
Oui
.  I am so glad you are
available.  I need your help.”

His eyes dropped to her slender figure and then back up to
her eyes.  “What can I do for you?”

She looked around, eyed the desk officer nearby, and then
leaned in close.  “It’s a very private matter.  Can we talk somewhere?”

He looked as if he might balk, but then her eyes snared him,
and she knew she owned his ass.  “Certainly, right this way ma’am.”  He led her
down a hallway appraising her ultra-short miniskirt with a wry grin.  They
stopped at the elevator.  Billings pressed the call button, and looked around. 
There was no one around.

He returned his attention to her miniskirt.  “Don’t have anything
dangerous in there do you?”  His eyes twinkled with the cheap line.

“Would you like to see for yourself?”  Michelle slipped off
her long coat to reveal a scant, second-skin black outfit.  She twirled and bent
over slightly to show him a glimpse of the bottom edge of her ass peeking below
her hemline.  Looking over her shoulder, she ran her fingers down her bare arms
and winked at him.  “Nothing up my sleeves, I promise.”

He stared without blinking, dazed, and then shook his head. 
“I believe you, Miss, but I should check.”  He tried to sound apologetic, but
his hungry eyes betrayed the sordid truth.

She held up her arms in surrender.  “If you must.”

He brushed his hands over her curves, not missing one
centimeter of her breasts.  His questing fingers slid all the way down the
outside of her hips and stopped.  Red-faced, he looked at her.  “Do you mind?”

She spread her legs wide and winked.

He gulped audibly, glanced around once more, and then gave
her inner thighs an exceedingly thorough examination.  His fingers came away
glistening wet as he grinned nervously.  She hadn’t bothered to wear panties
for this mission.

The elevator pinged and Billings jumped.  Michelle adjusted
her skirt before the doors parted.  There was no one inside.  She heard a soft
sigh.  She thought Billings might almost pass out with relief.

Grinning like an idiot, an obvious lump in his pants, his
hand lingered at her elbow as he steered her into the elevator.  As the doors
closed and the elevator rose, she watched his aura swirl with his dual desires. 
He wanted to help her, but he also wanted to fuck her right there in the
elevator.  Lust was the dominant color by far.

“I would love to help you, Miss, if I can.”

She reached down to slide her fingers over the tip of the
tent pole at the crotch of his pants and watched him shudder with her touch. 
The only help he wanted to give was to help his cock slide between her butt cheeks.

She licked her lips suggestively.  “A dear friend has died. 
I think you can help me, I must know how it happened.”

She held the Detective Sergeant rapt in her gaze, seduced
beyond reason, then the door chime broke the spell.  He looked down the empty
hallway and back at her.  “I’m not sure I can be of assistance.  These kinds of
investigations are not public.”  He was frowning again.

She glanced down the hallway and noted the Detective
Sergeant’s office three doors down, and no windows. 
Perfect
.  She
stepped up close, her left hand trailing down his arm with a feather-light
stroke as her right hand learned the contours of his cock through the light
fabric of his slacks.  She unloaded her emerald doe eyes on him with a direct
stare.  “
Monsieur
,
give me a few minutes in your office.  I am sure you will help me once you
understand.”  She pinched the head of his cock slightly and watched his eyes
dilate with need.

She knew she had dialed him up to the very edge, the point
of no return.  He stepped in closer and slipped his hand up between her legs,
his meaty finger digging inside her moist folds.  “Might take a little longer
than a few minutes.”

His arm curled around her in a protective embrace as he slid
deeper into her pussy, teasing with a slow glide.  His fingers shook with the
intensity of his need.  It had been a very long time since Billings had known a
woman.  She would have to fulfill that need to get what she wanted.

Few things in life came free.

She pulled away from him, sliding his hand out from between
her legs, and pulled him down the hallway.  Billings followed without
resistance.  He unlocked his office door and held it open for her.  “Let’s see
what you’ve got.  There might be something I can do for you after all.”

* * * *

“Fifty pounds says he’s shagging her right now.”  Katya
winked at Aaron in teasing.  Michelle had been gone over two hours.  Sitting in
their crap-hole apartment, waiting, Ivan and Katya had already finished off one
bottle of vodka between the two of them.

“Feeling left out?”  Aaron winked back.  He loved seeing
Katya blush.

She scoffed and Ivan snickered.  Ivan stood and headed for
the door, jacket in hand.  “I’m going for more vodka.”

Katya looked at him funny then looked at Aaron and back to
Ivan.  “Get me something to eat, would you.  One of those microwave pizzas.”

Ivan grinned.  “Sure.”  And he was gone.

If he didn’t know better, Aaron would think Ivan had left
him alone with Katya on purpose.  He recalled their first meeting, just over a
week ago, and how Katya would have sunk her nails into his face with glee.

Quite a different scenario now.

She watched him.  He watched her watching him.  For the
hundredth time, he wished he could get into her head.  Something about her was
a constant draw.  He felt compelled to learn what made Katya tick.

“So, I’ve been wondering, what is a Russian werewolf doing
in London?  And why do you speak like the British, but Ivan doesn’t?”

“I’ve lived in London a long time.  I like it here.  Ivan
stays here once in a while, but he prefers Mother Russia – likes to stick with
the pack.  There were many years Ivan couldn’t even leave the country.  These
days we get together and travel quite often.  We are hunters and problem
solvers.”

Aaron recalled Urvashi’s mention of some of their
travels
. 
“Like Afghanistan, Iraq, and Kosovo?”  Aaron imagined them
solving problems
,
and what that probably involved.  Uzi’s made for quick solutions.

“Something like that.”

The more Katya opened up, the more he liked her.  He saw her
as similar to him and Michelle, oddities in the world who lived apart from
everyone else.  They shared a necessary detachment from mankind.

Katya flicked her nose up at him.  “What’s your story?  How’d
you end up here, with the Frenchy and Urvashi?”

“It’s complicated.”

She held out her hands.  “Isn’t it always?”

“Yes, more so each day.”

She stared right at him, almost looking through him, her
light blue gaze assessing him.  “You haven’t been at it very long, eh?  What, a
couple years?  How long you have been sucking blood?”

He couldn’t help but laugh.  She seemed to make him laugh
more and more every night.  “Try three months.”

“Bloody hell.  Ya gotta be shitting me.  You been doing this
three months, and already balls deep in Urvashi with a leech grabbing you like
there’s no tomorrow.  Watcha got?  The world’s largest cock?”

She had him laughing hard now.  And he had no answers. 
Aaron had often wondered how he ended up in this place, this mess.

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.  Michelle and I met
under difficult circumstances.  A couple of dirty cops were shaking her down, I
tried to play hero and ended up shot.  She saved my life by giving me her
blood.”

“Saved?  Is that what you call it?”

“Well, I’m still here.  Then we went to Vegas where things
really got out of hand.”

“Bloody Las Vegas.  Had a boatload of fun there, did ya?”

Memories surfaced and raked over the painful scars of his
loss.  “Yes, but it got ugly.  The Cartel killed my wife.”

“You were married?  You can’t be more than twenty!”

“I don’t expect you to understand.  There’s no way to
explain what Anastasia and I shared.  But she was my wife, if only for a few
hours.  And now she’s gone.”

He tried not to let that well-spring of pain surface.  Not
here, not with this callous woman.  But damn it, she looked just like Ana.  If
she grew her hair out, maybe dressed a little nicer, gained a few pounds, a
little less of that hard athletic edge, she could almost pass for Anastasia.

“Nothing to explain.”  Katya snorted.  “No one survives long
with your kind.  Bloody leeches take everything.  You’re too young and dumb to
have learned, but you will.”  She had that look again, like Aaron was the sum
of all evil in the world.

“No, you’re right.  I am only twenty-two.”  He brought his
eyes to bear on her gaze full of malice.  “So, how old are you Grandma?  Must
be at least eighty, ninety?  You lived through WWII.”  He sunk the jab in deep
with a smirk.

From leaning back in her chair, she came at him instantly,
right up in his face.  “Don’t you know it’s not polite to ask a girl her age?” 
Her hands balled up into fists.  He caught a whisper of her ferocity leaking
past the block on her thoughts, and her aura had turned black-red.

“Must be my youth showing again.  We can’t all be wise old wolves.” 
He smiled, waiting for her move.

She almost clipped him with a solid right hook, but he dodged. 
Matching her preternatural speed, he twisted away as she flowed past him.  With
a helping shove in her back, she headed straight for the wall, barely catching
herself on her hands at the last second.  Aaron was on her, pinning her breasts
hard against the wall, her head pressed sideways, one eye glaring back at him.

He nipped at her ear as she squirmed, trying to break free. 
“Maybe you’re getting a little slow in your old age.”  He ground his hips in,
pressing the heat of his hard crotch against the crack of her ass.  He licked
her neck, tempted to take a bite while he held the advantage.

“Get off me, you bastard!”  She screamed and growled like an
animal, a deep, rumbling sound that carried an edge of hysteria.  Her ice-blue
Anastasia eyes showed a jumble of emotions and turmoil.  Her aura streaked through
with orange fear, black-red malice, and purple arousal.  She smelled earthy, a
hint of animal musk, mixed with some kind of perfumed body wash.

“What was that word you used?  Gamey?  I bet you taste
gamey.”  He licked at her again.  Her struggles and the food scent of fear
ignited a powerful desire to take what he wanted.  He could tear off her pants
right now, fuck and bite her until she became his, permanently bonded to him,
just like Anastasia.

What would it be like to have a wolf of his own?

He nuzzled his nose up against her neck, inhaling her
wonderful yet alien scent.  She squirmed harder, and he bore against her
harder, pressing his hot erection deeper into the cleft of her ass.

“Oh god, don’t bite me!  Please don’t bite me!”  She was
crying.

Puzzled, he stepped away from her.  Why would she be
crying?  He hadn’t hurt her.

She turned on him with a pistol drawn from somewhere in her
jacket.  “I’ll take all those pretty teeth right out of your face with a nine
millimeter scalpel!  You fucking tosser!  Touch me again and I’ll kill you!”

Why was she so angry?  Ana liked it rough.

“Ana, calm down.”  Her eyes had started to change, lighter
in color, a jaundiced yellow tint.  Her jaw muscles clenched and twitched,
moving.  Her jaw seemed somehow … longer.

She snarled and shook her head, her aim with the pistol wavered
as she fought for self-control.  “My name is not Ana!”  She was growl-speaking,
a deep baritone rumble that shouldn’t come from a woman’s mouth.  This was not
Ana, and she seemed to be losing control of … whatever.

Aaron backed away from her slowly, his arms up in
surrender.  “Katya, I won’t touch you.  I promise.  I wasn’t trying to hurt
you.”

She closed her eyes and panted heavily, in through her nose
and out through her mouth.  After a few seconds of steady breaths, the
intensity level dropped a notch and she lowered her gun.  “Just because we got
on okay, don’t mean we’re getting it on.”

He watched her, making sure the gun stayed down and the
colors of her aura stayed reasonable.  “Tell me what you’re afraid of.  What
did you think I would do?”

She slipped her gun into her inside jacket pocket.  Her
hands shook, betraying her anxiety.  “I know what happens when you bite.  I have
seen what you can do to a woman.  I don’t want what you’re selling.”

This was very personal.  Someone she knew had fallen prey to
a vampire, had become a bloodslave.  Someone she cared about.

“It’s not going to happen with one little bite.”

“And when you’re wrecking my ass, and your teeth are in my
neck, who’s going to stop you?”

“Me.”

“Right.  You damn near cornholed me just now.  Ain’t no
stopping once it’s started.  Not till you’ve had your fill, and I’m a fucking
drained mess, begging for more.”

“I am not like that, and neither is Michelle.”

“Right.  We’ve seen what your little Frenchy is like. 
Watched her kill an entire regiment of Nazis in a minute.  Painted in blood she
was.  Damn near bathing in it.  And she had a man with her, an American
soldier.  He died for her.”

“And after she killed your enemies, and took two bullets,
you hunted her.  How honorable is that?  The four of you still couldn’t take
her down.”  He laughed, but he was not smiling.

“She was completely crackers.  If we hadn’t done something,
who knows how many innocent people she would have killed.”

“I can see how you might think that, but I know what she was
doing.”  He tapped his skull.  “She shared it all with me, as if I was there. 
She hated the Nazis with such a passion.  She lived in Paris during the
occupation.  If you saw what they did to people, the things she saw, the things
she was powerless to stop, you would have killed them all with your bare hands.”

“I don’t care.  Just make sure you keep your war loving
teeth and that Loch Ness monster away from me.”

He couldn’t help but laugh out loud.  She’d done it again,
made him smile.

A cracking sound was followed by Ivan as he kicked through
the lock on the front door of the apartment.  “What is wrong?”  The Russian
snarled as he scanned the apartment for some anticipated threat.  Breathing
like he’d just run a mile, he held his vodka bottle in one hand and a large,
wicked serrated blade in the other.

Aaron put it together instantly, “Katya came at me, but I
never hurt her!”  Hands in the air he backed far out of Ivan’s reach.

“I left you two alone to have fun, not fight!”

“Bloody hell!  I knew you were up to something.”  Katya
swiped the empty shot glass off the coffee table and hurled it at Ivan.

He ducked as it smashed against the wall to his left.  “It
has been too long.  You need to get laid.”

“Oh fuck off, Ivan.  Who are you to tell me what I need!  I
need this bastard to keep his ruddy teeth away from my neck, that’s what I
need!”

Ivan laughed in a full-throated chuckle and flipped his folding
knife closed to shove it in his pants pocket.  “That’s what you were so afraid
of?”

Finally, Ivan confirmed what Aaron has suspected all along. 
“You two are bonded.  You felt her fear.”

Ivan nodded.

Katya snorted.  “I wasn’t afraid.  I was ruddy pissed-off! 
I almost shot his teeth out.”

Ivan looked back and forth to Aaron and Katya.  “Stop trying
to bite her and maybe you’ll get somewhere.”

She laid into Ivan.  “He’s not getting’ anywhere, asshole.” 
She turned on Aaron.  “And you keep your teeth and your cock to yourself.  I’ll
have neither.”

* * * *