Page 76 of New Nebraska Heat

But all I could think of was never seeing Serenity again. I wouldn’t be there to protect her. I’d failed her. Going to the grave knowing that would hurt worse than the death blow.

This freak had kicked my ass, and he was barely even breathing heavier as he said, “This ethereal armor is made from ancient Fae magic, so don’t feel too bad. You never had a chance.”

Fae magic, on a vamp? What the fuck? Coughing and spluttering dust and broken brick, I supposed it didn’t matter anyway.

This was it. The end. At least Serenity would have Hunter; he’d take care of her.

Crouching beside me, his clammy palm stroked my locks as he goaded me. “You know, dead hero, Conrad’s going to take back that little human friend of yours and keep her in a place just like this. Forever. Maybe I’ll be her jailor.”

This motherfucking piece of shit. My jaguar tattoo on my right arm pulsed fiercely, as if electrified. I looked down and saw, through the blood haze, that it was glowing, the yellow eyes bright as lightning bolts. It felt like my arm had a life of its own. And the wrecking power of a sledgehammer.

“Nothing to say, eh? Say goodnight then.”

I mumbled nonsense, exaggerating how fucked up I was, and beckoned him even closer.

He mocked me as he moved his face so close to mine, our noses brushed. “Speak up, police man. These’ll be your famous last words.”

“I said…” I let my words trail off into babbles.

“What? Come on, let’s hear it.” He wheezed laughter. “You thought you were so fucking cool, didn’t you? Come on, what did you just say, dead man?”

Wham! I hammered a savage uppercut into his chin with my jaguar tat fist, shattering his magic armor like a busted window pane. The shimmering blue fell away, fizzling out as I gripped his throat and said, “Nobody threatens my mate.”

With that, I lanced my claws deep into his eyeballs, drivingthem back into his brain and caving his skull in with my bare hands. He died screaming.

Mucha alegria!

Mucha alegria!

Mucha alegria!

Panting, coughing, vision still fuzzy, I clambered up, steadying myself on the workbench. I looked down at my jaguar tat. The titanic power was fading, as was the glow. It still felt wired, strong, but nothing like before. Bryce was right: the strangeness never ended in New Nebraska.

The music cut off, and Teddy Bear stumbled over the heaps of broken bricks, his revolver drawn. He lowered it upon seeing me. “Fuck me, laddie. You’ve been having mad squabbles down here.” His head jerked back when he saw my battered body. Then he stared down at the dead sack of shit slumped on the concrete. “No way. Someone almost took you out, one on one? Who the fuck was that guy?”

Limping against the wall, still trying to catch my breath, I blurted out, “Check his wallet.”

Teddy Bear began rifling through the corpse’s jean pockets.

“The girls, the girls”—I was still fatigued from the ass whipping I’d taken—“are okay?”

He spoke from the side of his mouth. “Cavalry’s all upstairs. Whole street’s cordoned off. Those lassies are all safe”—he turned and gave me a rare warm smile—“thanks to a certain jackass.”

“It was nothing.” That was twenty-four carat bravado. I felt like hammered shit.

“The bartender?”

Teddy Bear grinned sheepishly and shrugged. “Well, Iwasfollowing the plan, when all of a sudden all those poor kids flooded the bar, terrified, I, uh, lost my temper a wee bit.”

“How wee?”

“Eh, I put his head through the grand piano. Twice. It wasn’t a melodious tune, I can tell ya.”

I sucked air in deep, my vision was starting to return fully, my heartbeat thumping hard but steadily slowing. “You fucking killed him?”

“Oh, ‘you fucking killed him’ says the one squashing skulls in,” he replied, kicking the corpse over and opening the flaps of the wallet he’d found. Staring into it, he spoke with a tinge of shame in this tone. “Let’s just agree that things got out of hand. We’ll both try harder in the future.”

“You’re a blockhead, you know that?” But fuck it, I was alive, and too sore to argue.