A Vampire for Christmas - By Michele Hauf Page 0,65
noticed the man standing across the street, back against an iron fence fronting a walk-up brownstone, head bowed.
Willing him to look up, she pressed her palms to the cold window and it fogged around her hands. She wiped away the condensation but that only smeared the glass.
Rushing for a coat, she pulled it on, stuck her bare feet into her boots by the door and clattered down the iron staircase. Running toward the street, she didn’t pause to think that he might reject her. He had come to her. He wanted to see her.
They had a chance. They two—monsters—could really make this work.
Before she could cross the street, the familiar click of a camera and a blinking flash paused her at the curb. Daniel took one look at the photographer who’d been waiting around the corner and rushed him.
DANIEL HAD BEEN WATCHING the guy for fifteen minutes. He’d been lurking outside the front foyer of Olivia’s building, trying to pass himself off as just another guy, perhaps waiting for a friend, but Daniel had seen the glint of a camera lens sticking out of his pocket.
He’d wanted to go up the side stairs to Olivia’s apartment, but his suspicions about the lurker had been confirmed. Damned paparazzi. How had they found her?
This was not a situation he wanted to get into, but there was no way he was going to allow the guy to take photos of Olivia in a place she considered her sanctuary.
He dashed across the street and shoved the photographer against the wall. “Back off, buddy.”
“You touched me!” the guy yelled.
Olivia tugged his sleeve “Let’s go, Daniel.”
“Of course I touched you.” He jerked his arm from Olivia’s grasp and approached the man, who had the audacity to act affronted. “You’ve no right following the woman all over the place and taking pictures without her permission.”
“She’s a public figure,” the cameraman argued. “That means she belongs to the public, buddy. They—we—put her where she is today. The least she can do is repay that generosity with a few pictures.”
“Your concept of public and private is whacked,” Daniel argued.
“So is yours. I think I’m going to bruise.” The cameraman touched his arm where Daniel had shoved him. “I’ll sue.”
“Yeah? And I’ll—”
Before he could reveal fangs, Daniel felt Olivia tug his arm again. “It’s not worth it.”
“Is he your new boyfriend, Olivia? That was quick. You and Troy didn’t work out?” The cameraman shot a few clicks of Daniel. “Much ruder than the last one. Who are you? What’s your name? You a singer? An actor?”
His anger boiling, Daniel lunged toward the man. “Can’t the woman have a day or two to herself? It’s Christmas. Give her a break.”
“Christmas with the new boyfriend,” the cameraman recited as he continued to click pictures of Daniel. “This one will make the cover of the Daily Tattle for sure. Pop singer’s angry boyfriend is a handful and wounds cameraman.”
“Oh, bull crap.” Daniel fisted the guy about the collar and held him up until his feet dangled.
“Think, Daniel,” Olivia said behind him. “You’re only giving him more ammunition.”
“But he knows your secret hideaway now. You going to tell anyone where Olivia lives?”
“Hell, yes,” the guy croaked. “And I’m suing your pants off. Let me down!”
Daniel glanced to Olivia, who stood with arms crossed over her chest and a frantic look pleading with him to stop. Right. He’d gone too far. He’d reacted. Exactly what these crazy reporters fed on. He’d failed her.
“Sorry.” Daniel set the man down to stumble against the brick wall.
Without a word, Olivia walked around the corner.
“I’m sorry, Olivia!” he called.
No reply.
The cameraman sank to a crouch, scrambling in the snow to retrieve the dropped camera. “I got your picture, buddy. I will find out who you are. This story is going front page, I promise you that.”
Daniel snatched the camera from the man’s grasp, flicked open the card holder and broke the digital storage card in two. The man protested and when he pulled a punch, Daniel caught the fist with his palm. He narrowed his eyes on the man’s gaze and peered into his soul. It was dark in there. The guy didn’t care who he trampled to earn a buck. He made a living by tracking down celebrity dirt and plastering it all over the tabloid rags without a care for the lives he was damaging and the secrets he exposed.
Daniel spoke slowly and deeply. “You dropped your camera and when you try to remember what happened, you’ll