Sucker for Love: The Dead-End Dating Novel Read online

  Made male vamps were so shallow.

  Ahem.

  Okay, so were born male vamps, but enough with the details.

  Esther and Justin. Talk about a perfect match. I introduced them and stepped back to let Cupid do his thing.

  One minute they were doing a hot salsa number and eyeballing each other and the next, they’d traded the ballroom for the sitting area. Go Cupid!

  I wasn’t sure what happened after that. I just knew, judging by the bloodstained sofa, that it wasn’t good.

  My heart pushed up into my throat as I stared at the crimson mess.

  “I knew someone was going to spill a drink,” Nina said as she came up behind me. “Daddy’s going to take it out of my allowance for sure.”

  “I don’t think this is a spilled drink,” I finally managed, my voice small and tight. I picked at a torn piece of Esther’s dress that had caught on the edge of a mirrored coffee table. The fabric was soaked with red, the edges jagged where it had ripped on the table. Or where someone had ripped it.

  An image flashed and I remembered Esther, a strange expression on her face as Justin had led her from the ballroom.

  I’d been five steps behind them because I’d wanted a pic for the brochure. I’d paused to calm down an overly excited were who’d been upset because we’d run out of au jus for the roast beef.

  By the time I’d reached the sitting area—my camera poised and ready to capture an eternally-ever-after in the making—they were gone.

  “Holy shit,” Nina gasped as the reality of the situation seemed to hit her. Her nostrils flared and her eyes brightened. “That really isn’t wine, is it?”

  “No.” My throat tightened around the word. “It’s Esther.” I forced a swallow. “I think she’s been kidnapped.” The ripe smell of fresh blood flooded my senses. Goose bumps crawled up and down my arms and a strange sense of doom settled in the pit of my stomach. “Or worse.”

  “This isn’t so bad.” That’s what Ash Prince told me when he and a handful of men I didn’t recognize showed up a half hour later to examine the crime scene.

  I’d called Ty first, but he was off chasing one of New York’s Most Wanted vampires who’d skipped out on bail (not that Ty discussed his cases with me, but we were mentally linked thanks to some mutual bloodsucking and so I picked up on a few details every now and then when he let his guard down).

  With Ty going straight to voice mail, I’d had no choice but to call the only other name in my iPhone who hunted bad guys for a living.

  Make that bad demons.

  Ash and his brothers worked for the Big D himself (that’s Devil not Daddy). They hunted condemned souls on the lamb from hell. Rapists, murderers, IRS auditors. They had expertise when it came to dissecting a crime scene.

  Or so I hoped.

  “No headless corpse.” Ash typed in notes on his BlackBerry and walked the small sitting area outside the ballroom. Inside, his men had spread out to question the few remaining guests. “No smoldering ashes. No brain matter splattering the walls.” He hunkered down and looked under the sofa. “No scattered body parts.”

  Ugh. Can we tone down the details?

  “She’s definitely not dead,” he added, pushing to his full six foot plus height. His rich chocolate gaze locked with mine. “Not yet anyway.”

  “You’re not making me feel any better.” Talk about the wrong thing to say to a sexual demon. His gaze brightened, gleaming a brilliant gold. Heat rolled off his sexy body, curling around me and luring me closer.

  He had short, dark hair that looked as if he’d just rolled out of bed and shoved a hand through it. He wore a brown Henley that hugged his broad shoulders and accented a narrow waist. Faded jeans clung to his long, muscular legs. He had bedroom eyes and perfect white teeth and more sex appeal than Eric Bana, Brad Pitt and my favorite clerk at the Starbucks all rolled into one.

  Talk about some serious temptation.

  “I’m in a relationship,” I blurted. “A happy, committed, monogamous relationship. With Ty,” I added on the off chance that guys didn’t talk about these things. Ash and Ty crossed paths on occasion, but I couldn’t really see them having a heart-to-heart. Especially since demon Ash didn’t actually have a heart and Ty’s ticker had been dead for quite some time now.

  “So you two are together now, huh?”

  “That’s right.”

  He arched an eyebrow. “Are we talking together as in getting wild and naked on the weekends, or together as in picking out his and hers coffins?”

  “Definitely coffins.” He arched an eyebrow and I shrugged. “All right, so we haven’t actually gotten that far, but we’re on the way.” Sort of.

  I know, I know. Where was the most definitely? The thing was, while I was head over heels for Ty, he’d never come out and actually said the L word.

  He couldn’t.

  Long story short, Ty’s maker—a ruthless born vamp by the name of Logan Drake—was on a personal mission to see that Ty suffered for the rest of his afterlife. Logan wanted Ty miserable, and so he wasn’t too fond of yours truly because, let’s face it, I was the sunshine in Ty’s otherwise doom and gloom existence.

  Ty was hesitant to get close, fearful that Logan might target me. But I’d faced off with Vindictive Vamp once before when he’d kidnapped Ty for a little reality check in the form of torture and mutilation. I’d also saved the day—i.e., Ty’s ass.

  Logan Drake didn’t scare me.

  Okay, so maybe he scared me a little (torture, mutilation, nuff said). But I was willing to take the risk because I loved Ty. And he loved me.

  Really. I so didn’t need to hear it. His actions spoke volumes.

  He’d helped me prove my innocence when I was wanted for murder. He’d bit me and sucked out a nasty demon when Evie’s exorcism had gone south. He’d given up women and started bottling it when it came to his dinner. He’d left a toothbrush in my bathroom and he’d sent me flowers. He’d bailed on me several days ago and all my calls were now going to his voice mail—

  Wait a second. Wrong exit. I hopped back on the road toward commitment bliss.

  “It’s just a matter of time before we do the happily-ever-after thing,” I added, more to convince myself than Ash.

  “So you already took him home to meet your mother?”

  “We haven’t actually gotten around to that part, but we will.” Just as soon as I worked up my nerve. Ash shook his head and I added, “What? I’m waiting for the right moment.”

  “There is no right moment. Ty is a made vampire, which leaves him out of the running for son-in-law of the year.”

  “And you’re an expert because …?”

  “I’m not. But it doesn’t take a genius to figure things out. You’re a born vampire which means your mother is a born vampire, which means Ty is going to be about as welcome in her house as the local SOB.”

  “For your information, she and my father have a very amicable relationship with Vinnie Balducci.” Aka the local representative for the Snipers of Otherworldly Beings—SOBs for short—an organized group responsible for hunting and annihilating any and all Others. “They give him free toner cartridges.” Because, of course, even dangerous, bloodthirsty snipers had to do paperwork. “And he doesn’t drive a stake through their hearts. It’s a win/win.”

  “I bet your ma doesn’t have him over for dinner.”

  “She might.” If he were the right blood type. “Listen, I know it’s not likely that my mother will fall all over Ty at the first meeting, but she’ll come around.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Stranger things have happened.”

  “Name one.”

  “I’ll name three. The mighty T-Rex has gone the way of crocheted ponchos, the Olsen twins have turned from sitcom sweethearts to drug-addicted divas and my orgy-loving brother, Jack, has given up his womanizing ways to marry a human. All seemed impossible at one time, then bam, it happened. Instant miracle.”

  He gave me a strange look and shook his he
ad.

  “What? Vampires can’t be optimistic?” He opened his mouth to answer a big, fat No and I cut him off, “So what do you think happened to Esther?”

  He shrugged. “There are several possibilities. You say this guy wasn’t a vampire, right?”

  BVs gave off a sweet, succulent unique scent that only other BVs could smell. “The only thing tickling my nose was Giorgio.”

  “A made vamp?”

  “Maybe.” I couldn’t actually smell an MV, which was why Ty and I had hit it off so well. He didn’t reek of crème brûlé or bread pudding or chocolate ganache, and so he didn’t clash with my eau de cotton candy.

  “Maybe he was something else. A were. A demon.” Ash’s gaze locked with mine. “What did his profile say?”

  “He didn’t actually fill one out. He just showed up tonight with lots of cash and this.” I handed over the business card with Justin Barrett Findlay in black script and an address. “And a Visa Gold card.”

  “We’ll run a trace on the Visa number and see if it matches the name and address on the business card. But I wouldn’t hold my breath. If something bad did go down here, I’d be willing to bet this guy didn’t use his real name.” He examined the couch for a few seconds before leaning in and taking a huge whiff. “It doesn’t smell like vamp blood.”

  “Meaning?”

  “The most likely scenario is that you’re overreacting. She probably bit him and he turned out to be a bleeder.”

  I shook my head. “She didn’t bite him.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Esther is extremely weight conscious. She would never pig out in front of—or on—a potential eternity mate.”

  He shrugged. “We’ll gather some info and see what we can find out about this guy.” He walked to the open ballroom door and signaled two of his men who stood near the buffet table. I figured they were both werewolves, on account of they were practically drooling over the roast beef tray. “Get this scene processed and analyzed,” he told them when they reached us. “Then we’ll know what we’re really dealing with.” He turned to me. “I’ll call you if anything comes up.”

  “An hour, right?” I asked hopefully.

  “More like twenty-four. We’ll have to bag and tag all the samples, do some testing. That takes time.”

  “What do I do in the meantime?”

  “You don’t do anything. I’ll handle it from here.”

  “You’re going to find her, right?”

  He nodded. “If she’s even missing. I’m betting the two of them snuck off somewhere and are having a good time as we speak.” He gave my shoulder a reassuring squeeze and his voice softened. “You should stop worrying and head home. It’ll be daylight soon.”

  “If?” My brain was still stuck on the first word. “What do you mean if?”

  “There are a ton of possibilities as to what happened here.”

  Sneaking off. Humping like bunnies. Sucking like leeches. I could so relate to that. But this was different. It felt different.

  It felt … wrong.

  “She wouldn’t just up and leave without saying good-bye. She’s too nice for that.”

  “Maybe she wasn’t thinking too clearly. Desperate women do desperate things.”

  Amen.

  My mind went blank, giving way to a very vivid image of me minus my clothes. Ash was there, touching and stroking and …

  My breasts grew heavy and my tummy tingled.

  Bad tummy.

  “When’s the last time you had a date?” I blurted, desperate to ignore the lewd and lascivious thoughts that suddenly rushed through my head. “Because if you need one, I would be more than happy to help.” He grinned and reality zapped me. “That is, I could find you someone,” I rushed on. “A nice female demon. Someone you could take home to Papa.”

  “I seriously doubt he’d go for that.” His cell phone chose that moment to beep and he shifted his attention to the display. “I’ve got to go. Mo and I are working a case in the Bronx and he just spotted our subject.” His gaze collided with mine and his eyes smoldered again for a split second. “Will you be all right?”

  “Why wouldn’t I be?” I shrugged. “You said yourself, it’s probably nothing.”

  “I could drop you off at home on my way out.”

  And I’d sit next to him in the backseat of a cab? As it was, I had the crazy urge to strip naked and haul him into the nearest storage closet. A dark, cramped backseat would surely send me over the edge into nympho-land.

  My legs shook and I felt the wetness between my thighs. I stiffened at the realization. I knew why I was having such an intense physical reaction to him (he was a sexual demon, after all), but it didn’t make it any less startling.

  Get thee behind me, slut.

  I licked my lips and gathered my strength. “Thanks, but no thanks.” I couldn’t help lusting after him, but I could keep from acting on that lust.

  Think Ty.

  Think monogamy.

  Think happily ever after.

  Think.

  “You go on,” I told him. “I still need to pack up a few things here.”

  He stared at me long and hard, his eyes dark and hot and oh, so dreamy, but I held my ground.

  “Suit yourself,” he finally said.

  I watched him disappear (thankyouthankyouthankyou) into the elevator. The doors whooshed shut, and just like that the strange sensations subsided.

  I spent the next hour watching Ash’s men bag and tag. Finally, they gave the go-ahead for Nina to have the sofa moved to a storage closet to await disposal. They spent a few more minutes questioning the waitstaff and then they left. Nina had a new sofa brought up from storage and soon the sitting area looked as picture perfect as when I’d first walked in that evening.

  There wasn’t a trace of Esther left behind.

  The realization made my eyes water and I blinked frantically.

  Ash was probably right. It was probably nothing. Just a great big misunderstanding.

  That’s what I told myself as I grabbed the last of my things and loaded them into a box.

  The problem was, deep in my heart I didn’t actually believe it.

  I was not going to cry.

  Because I’m, of course, a badass vampire and BAVs did not cry unless a) they were on the sharp, pointy end of a stake, b) they were being burned alive by overzealous villagers or c) they ruined a pair of high dollar Zac Posen booties while chasing an extra from The Exorcist (hey, confession is good for the soul, right?).

  A missing client/friend didn’t score waterworks.

  Unless it was the client/friend who’d stuck with me through not one but twenty-nine failed dates (thirty if you count tonight’s bloodbath). Despite Esther’s long list of losers, she’d kept trying. Hoping. Believing.

  In me and in her sucky social life.

  I wiped at a big fat tear that squeezed past my eyelashes, picked up my box and headed down the elevator. The concierge helped me outside and flagged down a cab. I loaded my stuff into the backseat and climbed in.

  I know, I know. I was Super Vamp. I could leap tall buildings in a single bound. Listen in on every conversation for a three block radius. Sniff out a one-of-a-kind Donna Karan bag from a mile away. I should just do the pink fuzzy bat gig and save a few bucks, right?

  Unfortunately, I had a bad habit of losing things during the metamorphosis and I was decked out in all my faves tonight. Besides, a bat toting a box of name tags and a credit card machine? How inconspicuous was that?

  “Where to?” The female cabbie eyed me in the mirror. Her name was Evelyn and she lived in Brooklyn. She had four kids, ten dogs and twenty-two hamsters. She’d had twenty-three but just last night she’d had to flush one because one of her labs had tried to use it for a chew toy.

  A mental picture hit me and my stomach pitched.

  Sometimes being a highly sensitive Super V wasn’t all it was cracked up to be.

  “Take a left at the corner and head east.” I gave her my
address before settling back into the seat and pulling out my cell phone.

  I had three texts and two voice mails. I punched in my mailbox code and waited for Ty’s frantic Are you all right?

  Instead, my mother’s exasperated, “What’s the point of having a cell phone if you don’t answer it?” blared in my ear.

  Before I could hit the DELETE button, she rushed on, “Then again, what’s the point of having a premium fertility rating if you’re just going to waste it on a human woman who has no hope in the universe of giving birth to an heir to carry on the sacred Marchette name.”

  O-kay.

  “Obviously, said human has discovered that she can still give birth thanks to your brother’s premium born vampire sperm, which can fertilize any egg. But without two vampire chromosomes to make it a pure blood, the child is obviously doomed to be inferior.”

  In layman’s terms? Human.

  “I swear,” she added, “I would slit both my wrists if I thought it would put me out of my misery. But the last time I did that, your father thought I was trying to seduce him with a snack. We ended up having sex on my imported Belgian rug.”

  I so didn’t need to know that.

  “Needless to say, I couldn’t find a dry cleaner in Connecticut who would touch it. I ended up shipping it to a filthy expensive preservatory.” She heaved a sigh. “Never again. If your brother thinks I’m ruining another rug just because he has this crazy idea that he’s going to give me a human grandchild, then he’s sorely mistaken. I’m not going to stand by and let him sully our family’s name. I mean, really. What will everyone say?”

  Everyone meaning the card-carrying members of the Connecticut Huntress Club. Also known as the local 101 for snotty, pretentious, born female vampires.

  My mother had been the refreshments chairwoman for the past three de cades. She passed out glasses of AB—and O+ along with a primo sales pitch to hook me up with available sons, nephews, grandsons, great nephews, great grandsons, uncles, cousins, friends of cousins, friends of friends of cousins—namely any born male vamp with a penis, a fertility rating and a bank account.

  Gee, thanks Ma.