Blood Debt - By Tanya Huff Page 0,51

any more than that. I don't! Please!"

The third had been working late. She caught him just leaving the office.

There was only one enforcer between them. Then there were only the persistent fumes of a pungent aftershave. Then ...

His other three boys found him a few moments later, crouched behind a dumpster in the alley next to the office. He stood slowly as they approached, visibly pulling himself together.

"Boss? What happened?"

"The night," he said, then paused to swallow fear. Lines of sweat that had nothing to do with the cool breeze blowing in off the street glistened down both sides of his face. "I was taken by the night."

The most senior of the three shot a startled glance at his companions but switched from Chinese to En?glish if that was how the boss wanted it. "Are you okay?"

"Where's Fang?" Narrowed eyes searched behind three sets of shoulders, shying away from the shadows. "He was supposed to protect me."

"He, uh, disappeared. Right when you did."

Fingers curled into fists to hide their trembling, but the lingering terror honed a razor's edge on the voice. "Then where the fuck were you!?"

The steering wheel creaked a protest. Vicki glanced down at it, frowned, and forced her fingers to relax their grip. It was getting harder and harder not to feed, not to drink in the terror with the blood.

Once you acquire the taste, Henry had warned her, the desire for it will lead you to excess after excess. Be very, very careful.

"Yeah. Right. 'Once you turn toward the dark side, forever will it dominate your destiny.' Stuff a sock in it, Obi Wan." Grimacing, she gunned the engine, raced a yellow light, and whipped the van around the corner, the two wheels still in contact with the pavement loudly objecting.

Frustration sizzled along every nerve. It was like having sex for hours with no orgasm in sight. "Celluci'd better be well rested when I get back; he's going to need his strength."

Yuen-Zong Chen, known to his associates as Harry, waited in the corridor while one of his boys vetted the men's room-not so much from fear of assassination as that he intensely disliked pissing in front of an audi?ence. He stepped aside as two of the club's less distin?guished patrons were escorted out.

"All clear, Mr. Chen." As the crime boss entered, the enforcer nodded to a companion at the end of the hall and took up a position outside the door, one foot in its handmade size eight shoe keeping the beat that throbbed throughout the club.

Inside, Harry Chen relieved himself, sighed deeply in contentment, and crossed the room to the row of stainless steel sinks. He shook his head in unfeigned distaste at the residue of white powder. Only weak fools destroyed themselves with drugs. Weak fools who had helped to make him rich, perhaps, but that made them no less weak, no less foolish.

He passed his hands under the taps and, as the warm water poured over them, glanced up at his re?flection in the mirror. "There's never enough fucking light when ..." The rest of the sentence caught in his throat. Death looked over his shoulder.

Behind him, Henry smiled, showing teeth. "Harry Chen, I presume?"

He stiffened, recognizing it was not a question and that the pale-haired man knew exactly whose life he held. Dripping hands held out from his sides, he turned.

"If you call for help, you'll be dead before the first word reaches air," Henry told him as he opened his mouth.

"I'm dead anyway." But he wasn't dead yet, so he kept his voice low, ignoring the quaver because he couldn't prevent it, hope warring with fear. "Who sent you? Was it Ngyn, that Vietnamese prick? No," he answered his own question. "Ngyn wouldn't use a fuc... " Suddenly realizing that some racial slurs might not be wise under the circumstances, Chen began again. "Nygn wouldn't use you. Look, you're a professional, right? So am I. Whoever sent you, I can pay you more. Lots more. Cash. Drugs. Girls. What?ever the fuck you want, man. I can get it for you." Finding courage in the silence, he raised his eyes. The small, nonshrieking part of his mind decided it was very glad he'd just relieved himself. "You're... not... possible."

The protest emerged one word to each short, shal?low breath. Even Henry had to strain to hear it. "Aren't I?" he asked quietly, impressed by the strength of will in spite of his contempt for the man. "Then you're in no danger,