Blood Secrets - By Jeannie Holmes Page 0,66
sign at the other end of the street, left turn signal winking like a spasmodic eye, before he steered his car onto the street and into pursuit.
He paused at the stop sign long enough to see Piper’s car turning right down another street. The Porsche lurched forward and tires squealed as he took the next turn a little too fast.
Keeping the Nissan in sight, he followed at a safe distance so as not to spook the driver, but after several more turns onto side streets, Kirk frowned. The route the Nissan carved through the town was taking them farther into downtown Jefferson.
“Where the fuck are you going?” he asked. Realization hit him when he caught a glimpse of the Nassau County Municipal Center’s roofline, now only blocks away. “Fucking goddamn bitch! You are so fucking dead!”
He couldn’t allow her to reach the Center and the police. A train’s horn sounded in the distance and he grinned. The railroad tracks were between their current position and the Municipal Center. If the timing was right, he could use the delay caused by the train to his advantage. His foot pressed the gas pedal to the floor and the Porsche shot forward.
Kirk whooped as warning bells combined with a blast of a train’s horn. Red-and-white-striped barriers lowered across the road, trapping Piper’s car between an eighteen-wheeler semi and his Porsche. He skidded to a stop behind the Nissan, angling his vehicle to cut off her escape route.
Jumping from the car, he could see the panic on Piper’s face that increased to horror when he reached the driver’s-side door and lifted the handle.
It didn’t budge. She’d locked the damn thing.
“Open this goddamn door, bitch!” He could hear her sobs even over the noise of the passing train as she fumbled with her cell phone. Rage and impatience overrode his senses. His fist connected with the window, shattering it and releasing Piper’s high-pitched screams. “Com’ere, you fucking whore!”
“Hey!” a man shouted from nearby. “Get your hands off the lady, mister!”
Snarling in fury, Kirk whirled toward the voice, to find the truck driver slowly approaching from the rear of his rig with a .22-caliber revolver already drawn and aimed at Kirk. “Fuck off.”
“Step away from the car,” the truck driver ordered.
“If you insist.” Kirk leapt over the Nissan’s hood. Gunfire echoed off the surrounding buildings. He roared in pain as a bullet grazed his ribs. He reached the driver, knocked the revolver aside, and wrapped his hand around the man’s throat.
The force of the impact knocked the smaller driver into the back of his rig. Kirk held him suspended by the throat with his feet frantically searching for the ground inches below. Soft tissue collapsed beneath the increasing pressure he applied to the driver’s throat until he heard a pop and the man ceased to struggle.
Kirk dropped the driver and he collapsed in a heap. Turning back to Piper’s car, he growled when he saw the open door and the empty driver’s seat. More angry shouts rang out from farther up the street and sirens sounded in the distance.
He picked up the driver’s revolver and darted for his car. The pain intensified with his movements. Wincing and clutching his side, he slid behind the Porsche’s steering wheel and jammed the car into reverse. Seconds later he was rocketing through the downtown streets, heading for the one person who might offer him sanctuary.
He just had to convince her it was in her best interests to do so if she wanted to live.
* * *
The fading vestiges of daylight pierced the remainder of the alcohol-induced fog that veiled Tasha’s mind. She rubbed her temple, trying to ease the ache in her head, and focused on Varik Baudelaire as he stood—battered and bruised—on the steps in front of Jefferson PD and described a vampire known only as The Dollmaker.
“He’s approximately six feet, four inches tall,” Varik announced in a hoarse voice. The line of bruises around his neck was plainly visible even in the dim light. A cut on his right cheek had been stitched closed and dark bruises ringed both eyes. “Short blond hair, blue eyes that turn a very pale yellow.” He paused and swallowed, wincing, before addressing the vampires standing to one side of the gathered crowd of officers. “Enforcers, be advised, the Dollmaker has a scent similar to leather and old blood.”
A murmur passed among the human officers and Tasha shuddered. She’d known all vampires had a particular scent that was unique to each individual