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“Uber, and I’m going to pretend that I’ve never met you or seen you before. My lips are sealed. I don’t want anything to mess up my chance of being one of you guys one day.”

I walked out of the apartment with a body over my shoulder. I was careful to avoid cameras and moving cars. There were no people out and about, which aided in my endeavors.

I threw Marisol in the car’s trunk. Doing the speed limit, I drove to the spot where I was told to take her body. I thought about Juan Eduardo Vega. His conviction was almost touching. This human was so eager to leave his humanity behind. I wondered if he would feel the same in four years, or if the reality of what we were would have dimmed the fantasy he had in his head.

It didn’t matter. For now, he was useful. He aided us in our cause. And in this game of vampire chess, every pawn had its purpose.

CHAPTER EIGHT

ZAND

My armored beast drove through Chicago’s darkness. I felt cloaked from the chaos in the luxury tank. Chanel wanted me to stop driving around in my old Chevy while there was danger looming. She asked me to drive the reinforced truck, and I complied. I ditched the vintage Chevy to ease her worries, but I didn’t fear Teresa or Marisol. Chanel cared, and I cared enough for her, to do as she requested.

With hands laid on the steering wheel, I drove with little effort. The ride was so quiet and comfortable. I could sink into the leather and fall asleep. Tonight, I didn’t have that luxury. My senses were enhanced, and my predatory nature was unlocked. I scanned every crosswalk, each alleyway, and eyed each person I saw on the street because of the current threats I faced.

Teresa was still out there, but tonight’s hunt wasn’t about her. Tonight belonged to Marisol Lopez. If Harlen had done his job, she would soon answer for her crimes against Chanel and Morgan’s late boyfriend. I still hadn’t figured out how Marisol was introduced to Teresa. Where could they have connected? It was still a mystery.

Even more pressing was how Teresa found the location of my condo in Cheboygan, Michigan. The good news, I didn’t have to worry about Teresa killing anymore innocent women with the name Chanel Taylor. Natasha’s associate at the Chicago Police Department had contacted every lady with that name and put them under some form of police protection.

Always on the job, Natasha made sure my Chanel was excluded from the others. With a quick name and social security number change, my Chanel Taylor was now legally going by the name Vanessa Taylor. It was an ode to one of Chanel’s favorite movies, Blade. Vanessa was Blade’s mother in the movie franchise.

Natasha also made sure the Minnesota detectives weren’t aware of these random killings in Chicago. I didn’t need detective Crowley and Jamison interfering in my plans. I also didn’t need them to force Chanel into witness protection. I get it. They were doing their jobs. But I needed them to go back to Minnesota. If Marisol disappeared, they wouldn’t have any reason to be here in Chicago. Without Lonzo or Marisol Lopez, their case would be closed.

The power of my vehicle felt like an extension of my body. This truck was six thousand pounds of reinforced steel and bulletproof glass that surrounded me like a cocoon of security. I had four vehicles custom-built two years ago when I realized Chicago would be my permanent home. The windows were tinted so dark they were nearly opaque from the outside. This allowed me to see out while preventing anyone from seeing in.

A quick glance in the rearview mirror confirmed I wasn’t being followed. Not that I expected to be. I left The Castle at different times and in different vehicles to confuse anyone that dared to tail me. Teresa was dangerous, but she wasn’t stupid. Well, she was very stupid to go up against me. After our confrontation at Club Bailar Caliente, she had to know I wasgoing to take action. She probably didn’t know I was hunting her allies one by one. I knew my presence rattled her. She would be lying low, regrouping, and planning her next move. But for now, I had the advantage.

A few years ago, I reluctantly funded the science to create the Cripo Glock. I doubted Natasha’s ability to produce a weapon that rendered a vampire powerless. But now Natasha’s invention has changed everything. Even before I was made, I was told for centuries killing another vampire required fire or decapitation with a dismembering of limbs. All these forms of death were messy and risky methods that often left evidence behind. Now, with a single pull of the trigger, I could incapacitate a vampire and end their life in a cleaner and more efficient way. The power of this weapon was intoxicating, though I’d never admit that to anyone, not even Chanel. I wanted to use the Glock one day. I wanted to feel that power. If that made me a monster, I would have to wear the title.

My phone vibrated against the center console. The screen illuminated with Harlen’s name. I pressed the button on the steering wheel to activate the hands-free system.

“Brother,” I answered.

“It’s done.” Harlen’s voice filled the vehicle’s interior, clear through the high-end speakers. “The package is secured and ready for delivery.”

A tightness I hadn’t realized I was carrying released from between my shoulder blades. “Any complications?” I asked.

“Not one.” He replied. “The pretty boy played his part perfectly. She never suspected a thing.”

I made a sharp turn onto a less traveled street. “Where is she now?”

“I just dropped her off with Virgil. She’s wrapped up tighter than a mummy and completely immobilized. The serum worked exactly as Natasha said it would.”

“Is she conscious?” I asked, accelerating through a yellow streetlight.

“Her eyes are open, but she’s out.” He explained. “I wanted to make sure she was down, so I hit her twice in the back. She never saw me coming.”

“Good.”

“Here’s the proof.”

My phone buzzed against the console again. A text message came through. I picked up my phone to see the text message from Harlen with the picture attachment. I swiped to open it.

The photo appeared on my screen. A pic of Marisol Lopez with her body cocooned in white sheets and secured with silver duct tape. Only her face was visible, and her eyes were half-open but vacant. Her dark hair was fanned out around her head. She looked nothing like the fierce, vengeful witch who partnered with Teresa to terrorize me and my people.

I recalled going to the hospital and seeing Chanel’s bruised body after Marisol attacked her. I had no compassion for this woman. There was nothing innocent about Marisol Lopez or what she’s done. I’m sure she wished she would’ve kept her ass in Minnesota.

“Hey, you got the picture?” Harlen asked as his voice cut through my thoughts.