Total pages in book: 145
Estimated words: 138274 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 691(@200wpm)___ 553(@250wpm)___ 461(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 138274 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 691(@200wpm)___ 553(@250wpm)___ 461(@300wpm)
His head ripped around to the alley he’d come down, and every inch of his skin prickled like he’d been dragged through poison sumac.
Before his eyes could confirm what his inner radar reported, he shifted his defensive position to a dumpster at the far corner of the lot. Making sure he stayed out of sight, he was surprised by how calm he was.
Given that he’d been stalked.
Something was coming down the club’s flank, and it was looking for him. He just hadn’t sensed them before now—
Right as he was wondering if he needed to start shooting, a pair of headlights swung across the back of the club, and Evan went to ground to avoid the glare. After the blast of illumination passed him, the sedan he’d been waiting for parked in one of the two cleared-out spots.
As he noted the silver Mercedes S660 with its tinted windows, the surge of triumph he felt was tempered by the reality that he was being hunted.
He glanced down the alley. The—vampire?—was coming closer. Meanwhile, no one was getting out of that luxury sedan.
Tick-tock.
Which was going to win—
His stalker passed by the door to the VIP section, and in the low glow of the light above it, the identity was confirmed, the scar on that face as obvious as the gun that was pointed in Evan’s direction, like the entity could see him.
Right on cue, just at the tipping point when Evan was going to be forced to pull his own trigger, three men got out of the long Mercedes.
It was his uncle’s lieutenants—the ones who had disrespected Evan last night. And Uncle had to be in that car, in the rear on the opposite side—
Incandescent rage overtook him, and before he could stop himself, he pointed his gun and shot in that direction.
With the suppressor on, there was just a whiff! sound, and then the driver of the car, his second cousin once removed, grabbed for his shoulder and looked confused.
Juiced with triumph, Evan started shooting repeatedly, hitting the men and the car, busting out safety glass, sparking the pavement, nailing the quarter panel and even one of the chromed-out mud flaps.
He didn’t care whether he actually got his uncle. He wanted chaos and fear for the whole organization.
And then he could come for Uncle.
As the lieutenants scrambled back into the car, and the Mercedes was thrown into reverse, those icy-white headlights slapped the back of the club as it spun its tires on the salt, got purchase, and wheeled around.
Just before it shot forward out of the lot, the vampire was spotlit like the felon he was, his gun down by his side, his face a mask of deadly composure as he measured the sedan and then looked in Evan’s direction.
Haul ass, Evan told himself. Fucking haul ass.
He took off from the club, linking up with the cross street behind the lot and sticking to the shadows. He made sure that his boots fell as quietly as he could make them, and avoided cans that would be noisy if they were kicked, and jumped over paper bags and frozen spray paint cans. The wind in his ears roared, but once again, his heart remained steady Freddie.
It wasn’t until he’d gone a good ten blocks that he slowed down and checked if there was anything in his wake.
There was not.
Wherever the vampire was, it wasn’t with him.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
The cookies turned out perfectly.
Then again, when chocolate chips and melting were involved, and your base was made out of butter and sugar, how badly could you go wrong? Nalla stayed all through the cleanup, too, working side by side with Rahvyn at the sink, the other female on washing, her on drying.
“Just in time for group to get out,” Rahvyn said as she turned the water off and flicked her hands before reaching for a dishtowel. “Thank you for the help.”
“Anytime.” Nalla hung the damp one she’d been using on the oven’s pull rod. “And we have taste-tested ’em properly. You know, for manufacturing defects.”
“Exactly.”
As Rahvyn turned around and leaned back against the sink rim, she took her time with the drying off.
“I think you have something you want to ask me,” the female murmured.
Annnnd cue the putting away, Nalla thought as she grabbed the mixing bowl and walked across to the lower cupboard it belonged in.
“Not at all.” She went back and sifted through the mixing utensils she’d dried. “It’s time for me to get back to work, you know. Two nights off in a row is a weekend.”
What the hell was she saying?
“And maybe we should have waited on the washing thing.” She went to the glass jars next to the stove and returned the whisks and spatulas to their places. “Until after the dishwasher was finished running from First Meal, you know? I think it saves water versus hand doing it.”