Just One Bite (11 page)

“Uh, no.” He seemed caught off guard by my sudden shift from threatening and defensive to sexy and determined. “Not really. I mean, I know how to use a knife, but—”

“Forget it,” Ash cut in. “She’s clean. Let’s get out of here.”

“Wait a second.” I was right on their heels as they walked into the outer office. “You’re leaving? But why?”

“You’re not possessed.”

“But five seconds ago, you said I was.”

“I changed my mind.”

“Why?”

He turned on me. “Demons are tricky, but not a one of them likes to play matchmaker.” He seemed to pause, as if noticing something. He sniffed at the air and wrinkled his nose.

“We had a gassy client,” I explained.

“I can tell.” His eyes fired their brilliant yellow as he drank in the scent for a long, silent moment.

Ugh. To think I actually considered jumping his bones less than two minutes ago.

“Keep your eyes open,” he finally told me when he stopped sniffing (yay) and his gaze cooled to an impenetrable black. “If you notice anything strange, call me right away.”

His words sank in for a startling moment and I swallowed. “You really think he’s been
here
? A real demon?”

He nodded and I thought of Mia. Appearance-wise, she certainly looked the part. But I couldn’t forget the flash of hurt in her gaze when she’d mentioned her ex-boyfriend. That, and I hadn’t heard any wheezing or moaning. Nor had she slimed me even once.

“If it isn’t you,” Ash went on, “it’s someone. Someone who’s been in the vicinity.” He glanced around, his scrutiny bouncing from wall to wall before shifting back to me. “You have my cell number.” I nodded and he motioned to his brothers. “Let’s roll.”

“Wait!” The word burst out of my mouth as I remembered Mia’s check and my futile database search. Panic rushed through me. “I know there’s a dangerous rogue demon on the loose, but what happens once you catch him?”

Ash paused, his hand on the door. “First off, we don’t want to lose him again, so we have to cut off the head of the person he’s possessing. Then we chop the body into pieces and burn it. Then we take the ashes back to Hell, where they belong.”

I swallowed the sudden bad taste in my mouth. “And after that?” I pressed.

“We move on to the next case.”

“What about down time? Don’t you guys ever take a break? Maybe toss down a few beers at the local bar or watch a football game, or
something
that qualifies as social?”

“We have sex,” Mo offered.

“Lots and lots of sex,” Zee added.

I smiled again. “Perfect. Now if I could just get a little more information—”

“Forget it.” Ash shook his head. “We don’t need a dating service to get women.”

“What about a quality woman? Someone who’s got it going on personally and professionally? Someone you can take home to mom and dad?” Or, in Mia’s case, someone to boff in the storage room of a really hip tattoo shop.

“We don’t take women home. Too dangerous.” He grinned. “But thanks for the offer.”

A dozen questions crowded my brain, bumping and kicking to get down the neural pathway and out of my mouth first.

The one that made it out was “Huh?”

“Anything strange,”
Ash reminded me as I stood there still trying to process the “dangerous” comment. His grin faded into a serious expression that sent a sliver of dread down my spine as he pushed open the door. “Call me ASAP.”

“Thanks so much for babysitting,” I told Mrs. Janske a half hour before sunup when I stopped at her apartment to pick up Killer.

While I’d come to the conclusion that Vinnie wasn’t going to rip out my fangs just yet, I wasn’t taking any chances that he might come back and decide to do a little nip and tuck on Killer. Just in case I didn’t get the message the first time.

“Just don’t go making a habit of it. I got better things to do with my time than chase after a crazy cat all night long.”

Like chasing after a dozen crazy cats.

My gaze slid past her and riveted on the smorgasbord of felines parked throughout her living room. There were white cats. Orange cats. Black cats. Spotted cats. Tiny cats. Fat cats. Cats with lots of hair. Cats with no hair.

“Besides,” Mrs. Janske went on, “Wonder Woman and Whiskers don’t like this one,” she said, holding up Killer. “He keeps trying to play hide-the-Vienna-sausage with them.”

“Killer?” I glanced at my cat, who wore a who-you-gonna-believe-me-or-some-old-biddy? expression.

“I don’t cotton to that sort of lewd behavior in my house,” she added.

“I’ll have a talk with him.” I took the cat from Mrs. Janske’s outstretched hands. One of his claws grazed my forearm and I winced.

“What was that for?” I asked him once we were on our way up to the fifth floor.

That’s for leaving me with Baby Jane back there. I’m definitely peeing on your favorite Chanel suit when we get home.

“She’s grouchy, I know, but it’s just a cover. Deep down she’s extremely lonely.”

Deep down she’s as crazy as Britney and Lindsay rolled into one certifiable package. She talks to her cats.

“I talk to you.”

But you can hear me because you’re a vampire. She’s just a lunatic lady who talks to a bunch of lunatic cats that don’t talk back to her. Two of which are oversexed pussies who almost ate me alive.

I grinned. “I thought you were the one getting fresh?”

Pu-lease. I’ve got standards, you know. We’re talking a hairless job and one who’s been eating too many cans of Gourmet Kitty. Bald and fat are NOT my style.

“That’s not very nice.”

Yeah, well you wouldn’t be very nice either if you’d come this close to being raped and violated. If you ever leave me with that old bat, I’m running away from home.

We reached my apartment in a matter of seconds. Thankfully, there were no little surprises waiting on the doorstep.

“I was just trying to protect you,” I told Killer as I locked and bolted the door behind us (I’d reported the broken one to my landlord, who’d obviously fixed it while I was getting felt up at the office). “But if you would rather stay in the apartment and get sliced and diced, so be it. Maybe Vinnie will make a necklace out of your claws.”

Killer blinked up at me as I set him on the Berber rug the Ninas had bought me as a housewarming present.
The hairless one
was
sort of cute, if you go for the whole Mrs. Clean look. And, of course, I’ve always enjoyed a female with a little meat on her bones. More cush to the push, if you know what I mean.

I arched an eyebrow. “And my suit?”

I would never desecrate the sacred name of Chanel.

“That’s what I thought.” I turned and headed into the kitchen.

But your shoes…
Killer’s thoughts followed me.
Those are a completely different story.

Eleven

“S
he’s perfect,” Vinnie declared.

“Really?” It was early Saturday evening and I was on my way to work. I rounded the corner near Lexington and Seventy-fifth, a black coffee with a double shot of espresso in one hand and a studded silver Foley + Corinna bag in the other.

On the surface I was biker chic in a black leather puff-sleeve jacket, white ruffled blouse, black pencil skirt, and a pair of B & D Python heels.

Inside, I was majorly tripping after a nearly sleepless day tossing and turning and worrying about Vinnie and Carmen’s date.

“Damn straight,” Vinnie went on. “She’s Catholic and really stacked,
and
she can cook a mean lasagna. What more could a full-blooded Italian man ask for?” Before I could answer, he rushed on, “Mama’s going to love her.”

“So you’re happy?”

“Does a werewolf shit in the woods?”

I thought of Viola and her mega-room mansion. “Don’t they use toilets like everyone else?”

“It’s an expression, for Chrissake.”

“An inaccurate expression. Werewolves are responsible, civil members of society.” That is, when there’s no full moon. Or raw meat. Or really hot alpha males nearby.

“Says who?”

“Me.”

“A bloodthirsty, murdering born vampire?”

“For the record, I
am
thirsty, but I can totally nosh on the cup of coffee in my hand rather than biting some poor, defenseless schmoe.”

“Yeah, right.”

“Aren’t we getting a little off the subject? I thought we were talking about Carmen and how wonderful she was.”

“She’s the shit.”

Relief swamped me, followed by a rush of
hell, yeah!

I’d done it. I’d saved my ass—and my fangs—and matched up Vinnie Balducci. I was
so
going down in the Matchmaking Hall of Fame for this one.

That is, as long as the feeling went both ways.

The doubt wiggled its way into my head and I heard myself ask, “So, um, do you think she liked you, too?”

“Are you kidding? She winked at me every chance she got, and she even tried to play footsies with me under the table. It was all I could do to keep her from ripping my clothes off right there in the friggin’ restaurant.”

Hey, you couldn’t argue with footsies.

“I want to see her again,” Vinnie went on.

“No problem.” I rounded another corner and dodged a puddle of water. “I’ll give her a call and set something up. How about lunch? Tomorrow?”

“Dinner. Tonight.”

I glanced at my silver bangle watch and coffee dribbled down my arm. “But it’s already seven o’clock.” I juggled the cup to my opposite hand and shook away the warm liquid. “What if she’s already busy—”
Click.

“Vinnie?”

“If you’d like to make a call, please hang up and dial…”

Great. Just great.

I hit the
OFF
button. Dread firebombed my stomach and my heart started to pound. I had no clue if Carmen was even home right now, much less if she wanted to do dinner like,
now.

Then again, if things had gone that well, she was undoubtedly as anxious to see Vinnie as he was to see her. She could be sitting by the phone at that very second, just waiting for it to ring.

I searched for her number on my cell and hit
TALK
. Sure enough, she picked up during the first ring.

“Hey, Carm, it’s Lil.” I grinned. “A little birdie told me all about last night.”

“You mean the absolute worst two hours of my entire life?”

“Vinnie wants,” I started, but then her question registered and my words stalled.
Absolute? Worst? Entire life?

“But I thought you guys hit it off?” I asked when I finally found my voice. I dodged another puddle of water, a homeless person, and then a fire hydrant. “Vinnie said you were winking at him.”

“My contact was folded.”

“What about the footsies?”

“I was wearing flip-flops. They kept slipping off and I had to chase them around under the table with my foot.” She blew out an exasperated breath. “I’ve never had a date that bad in my entire life.”

Don’t panic,
I told myself.
Do. Not. Panic.

It couldn’t have been all bad, right?

“You know,” I used my most professional Auntie-Lil-knows-what’s-best voice, “there are a lot of other factors that go into a date—other than the actual daters—that can ruin an otherwise wonderful experience.”

“You think?”

I stopped at a crosswalk. “I see it all the time. Vinnie might have been the perfect guy, but you just couldn’t recognize it because the overall dating experience wasn’t up to par. Maybe if we dissect last night piece by piece, we can figure out the real problem. First off, how was the food?”

“It was great, but Vinnie burping his appreciation wasn’t. That man is the crudest person I’ve ever met.”

“Good food.” I ignored the “that man” comment and pushed on. “What about the atmosphere?”

“We had candles and soft music. Overall, it was very romantic, except when Vinnie almost punched out the waiter for pouring water into his empty tea glass.”

“Nice atmosphere.” The light turned green and I crossed the street. “What about the service?”

“Other than the water-in-the-tea-glass incident, it was really good. We only had to wait three minutes to get a table. Our food came right away. Of course, nothing was fast enough for
him.
He kept glancing at his watch and motioning for everyone to hurry up.”

“Conversation?” I stepped up onto the curb and started down the sidewalk.

“Well, I did everything you said. I asked him lots of questions about himself and tried to get him to talk, which he did. He told me all about his love of mob movies with lots of blood and gore, and how he enjoyed kicking ass whenever someone pissed him off and that he hated cats.”

Oh, no he didn’t.

“And dogs,” Carmen went on, “and most every animal in the universe with the exception of a tank full of fish he has at his apartment.”

I fought down my hatred (while Killer and I had a hate/hate relationship, I still had a soft spot for the cuddly little guy) and searched for some silver lining. “Does he have goldfish? Guppies? Some of those cute Nemo look-alikes?”