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CHAPTER SEVEN

HARLEN

I didn’t want to be here, but I had to be here. There was this thing called revenge.

My specially made Cripo Glock was currently resting against my ribs from inside my jacket. I didn’t know much about how this handgun was created. I only knew what Natasha told me. If this thing could put a vampire down, it really was the secret weapon we needed to run shit in this town.

I adjusted the side mirror to get a better view of the building’s west entrance.

The exterior lights flickered, casting uneven shadows across the concrete walkway.

A stray cat darted between parked cars. It was the only movement I’ve seen in the last hour.

In the distance, a siren wailed and faded.

Chicago at night was always windy and always restless.

I glanced down at my cell phone. I had an incoming text.

Morgan

Are you still coming over later?

Me

Yes. As soon as I wrap this up.

Morgan

Why are you alone?

Me

I don’t need backup.

Morgan

Don’t die tonight.

Me

Never. I’m trying to fuck you until the sun rises.

Morgan

You better.

Me

I got you. Wear something sexy.

Morgan

Like this???

A picture of Morgan in black lace thong lingerie appeared on my cell phone. She was laid on her bed and one of her nipples was playing peekaboo through the fabric.

Me

Yes.

Morgan

I’ll be waiting.

The rumble of an approaching motorcycle broke the sexting spree.

I straightened in my seat, watching as a sleek black Kawasaki bike cruised into the parking lot.

The rider was a young, tall, Hispanic man with broad shoulders and a confident posture.

He pulled into an empty space near the side entrance of the building.

Behind him, with her arms wrapped tightly around his waist, was Marisol Lopez.

Me

I see my mark.

Me

I’ll be there soon.

Morgan

Be careful.

I shut my cell screen and shoved my phone in my pocket.

Even from this distance, I recognized Marisol. She swung her leg over the bike to dismount. She was laughing at something the guy said. She almost looked like a human.

The guy was Juan, according to Natasha’s intel. He removed his helmet, revealing a sharp jawline and the kind of face that probably never struggled to find female company. He was too young to remember Menudo, but he could’ve easily made the group with those looks.

Juan reached for Marisol, his hand settling possessively on the small of her back. She leaned into him, her body language screaming for sex. They were touching continuously. Her fingers traced his arm. His hands slipped to her ass.

I reached inside my jacket, feeling the Cripo Glock.

The weapon was lighter than a standard gun.

I checked the safety, then the magazine, ensuring everything was precisely as it should be.

The bullets contained a serum that Natasha invented.

It comprised something that attacked vampire blood cells.

I was advised to shoot once or twice, depending on the size of my target.

As Juan and Marisol made their way toward the building entrance, I slowly opened my car door. I moved silently, keeping myself in the shadows and between parked cars.

The couple disappeared through the building’s side entrance.

I waited before following them inside. A fluorescent lighting buzzed overhead.

The elevator was out of service, not surprising given the state of the place.

I took the stairs. I hung back, listening to their footsteps and their quiet laughter as it echoed in the stairwell.

“You’re going to wake your neighbors,” Marisol said. There was a playfulness in her tone.

“Let them hear.” Juan replied. “I don’t care. I’ve been trying to get with you all night.”

I took the stairs one at a time. At the second-floor landing, I paused. Marisol’s laugh was melodic, genuine in a way that caught me off guard. This chica couldn’t run a cartel.She was focused on the wrong things.

“You were thinking about me while I was sitting right next to you at the club?” She teased. “What exactly were you thinking, Juan?”

“You don’t want to know that.”

“Yeah, I do. Tell me.” She pleaded.

“I was thinking I can’t wait to see you naked,” Juan gushed.

I heard the unmistakable sound of bodies pressing together against a wall and the sound of kissing.

“What else were you thinking?” Marisol asked.

“That I wanted to get you alone so I could see what that pussy do.”

They continued down the hall, and I followed at a careful distance. The corridor was dimly lit, with several burned-out bulbs creating pockets of darkness perfect for hiding. I slipped from shadow to shadow, keeping my footsteps silent on the worn carpet.

“Oh, papi , that’s what you trying to see.”

“ Si, mami .”

“Good, because I plan to fuck you until the sun comes up.”

I had said the same thing to Morgan over text. Great minds, think alike. Maybe?

Juan laughed, a deep, throaty sound. “Promises, promises.”

The door to an apartment opened, and they stumbled inside.

Neither of them noticed the door failed to click shut behind them.

It only mattered if Marisol noticed, and she didn’t.

I heard their continued conversation as they move deeper into the apartment, something about drinks and music, then the unmistakable sounds of deep kissing and clothing being removed and tossed.

I stood motionless in the hallway. One minute. Two minutes. Three. Giving them enough time to become thoroughly distracted. The Cripo Glock felt unnaturally warm against my palm as I drew it from its holster. I flicked off the safety with my thumb.

As I moved toward the unlocked door, I felt none of the doubt or hesitation that might have plagued me in the past. Teresa killed Morgan and now Marisol would pay the price. A human life for a vampire life. She took one of our people and we will take one of hers. Simple.

I pushed the apartment door open with my fingertips. The hinges were silent as I stepped inside. The entryway was dark.

My vampire eyes adjusted instantly to the darkness, taking in details no human could discern without lights.

The living room was an ode to bachelor minimalism.

There was a sagging futon couch with small stains.

There was also a coffee table constructed from milk crates and a TV stand supporting a massive flatscreen that was worth more than everything else in the room combined.

The walls were bare except for a single framed Chicago Bulls poster and a Mexican flag thumbtacked above the futon couch.

The carpet beneath my feet was worn thin in the pathways from the door to the kitchen and toward what must be the bedroom.

That’s where the sounds of Marisol and Juan’s passion grew more intense.

I moved slowly, placing each step carefully to avoid the creaking floorboards under the carpet that plagued buildings of this vintage. The Cripo Glock was a comforting weight in my hand. My finger rested alongside the trigger rather than on it.

As I approached the hallway leading to the bedroom, the scent of sex became more pronounced.

There was a heady mixture of sweat, pheromones, and the distinct metallic undertone that accompanied vampire arousal.

Marisol’s gasps and moans filtered through the open bedroom door, punctuated by Juan’s deeper groans and Spanish endearments.

“ Así, así !” Marisol urged. Her voice was ragged with pleasure. “Don’t stop!”

The bedroom door stood ajar, offering me a perfect line of sight to the bed. The sheets were tangled around them. Marisol straddled him. Her bare back was to the door and her spine arched as she rode him like he was a bull.

Her hair cascaded down her back in dark waves, swaying with each movement of her hips. Juan’s hands gripped her waist. His fingers pressed into her flesh with an intensity that would bruise a human woman. But Marisol wasn’t human anymore. Teresa saw to that.

We were at war, and in war, there were casualties. Tonight, Marisol was one of them.

I raised the Cripo Glock, aiming the barrel at the center of Marisol’s back. My hand was steady. It always was. I’ve killed before, though never another vampire. That distinction didn’t matter now.

I exhaled slowly, squeezing the trigger with precision. The gun made a sound unlike any normal firearm. The noise was a soft phut that was barely louder than a handclap. There was minimal recoil. The barrel barely moved as I fired the second shot immediately after the first.

Marisol’s body jerked violently as the specialized bullets pierced her skin.

She didn’t scream. There was no time. Her back arched in a grotesque parody of the pleasure she was experiencing moments before.

Her arms went rigid, fingers splayed wide, as if reaching for something just beyond her grasp.

The bullet’s ingredients worked with terrifying speed. A soft orange glow emanated from beneath her skin, tiny veins of light spreading outward from the entry wounds. She collapsed forward onto Juan’s chest. Her body convulsed slightly before going completely limp.

“What the fuck?” Juan shouted.

With a grunt, he pushed Marisol’s body off of him, rolling her to the side of the bed.

His eyes darted wildly around the room until he found me standing in the doorway, gun still raised.

Recognition dawned on his handsome face.

He knew me. I was the one sitting quietly in the background when he had his secret meeting with Natasha days ago.

Marisol’s eyes were open, and her mouth frozen in a startled gasp of surprise.

The orange glow beneath her skin was fading now, leaving behind a grayish pallor that signaled the serum had completely worked.

She was paralyzed. The bullets of the Cripo Glock did the job they were designed to do. Incapacitate.

Juan scrambled backward against the headboard.

I lowered my weapon. “Hey, my guy, you gonna cover your cock?”