Catching Dragos Page 2

  I choked on my drink. His voice alone was enough to make a girl come. “Me? You wanna dance with me?”

  The man-whore gave me a seductive smile and laid on the Italian accent. “Si, amore mio.”

  I sighed. Damn. Talk about animal magnetism. Fabian had it in spades. All I wanted to do was wrap my legs around him and fuck him blind. But that wasn’t going to happen. Pity. “Oh. Well. I’m honored, but I’m not a very good dancer, and you should—” I yelped when he scooped me off the bar stool and carried me to the dance floor. “Really. This is not a good idea.”

  Fabian slowly slid me down his taut body, letting me feel every delicious muscle. “A beautiful woman should dance the tango at least once.” He took my hand.

  I gasped as an electric spark leaped between us. What the hell?

  Fabian flinched, dropped my hand, and gave me a strange look.

  “Sorry, I’m full of static electricity tonight. Must be the weather.”

  “Si, love is in the air.”

  “Are you drunk?”

  “Drunk on your beauty.”

  The man was in serious need of some glasses. I mean, how could he miss the hideous wart on my chin? “Uh, okay.”

  The music started. Fabian circled me like I was his prey and he wanted to eat every inch of me.

  One look at his smoldering gaze. Shazam! He had me. My nipples hardened. My pussy clenched. Wait a minute. It was almost magical. Nah. He was a normal. Wasn’t he? Better to be safe than sorry. I was very good at sleight of hand and quickly planted a tracker under his belt.

  Seizing my right hand, Fabian spun me around him and pulled me into a tight embrace. His lips brushed mine.

  I jerked away.

  He jerked me back, sliding his leg between mine.

  Fuck. Had he noticed my panties were wet?

  His large hands skimmed down my back, grabbed my hips, and up I went.

  “No! No! No! Bad idea.” Did that stop him? Hell no.

  Fabian twirled me around his shoulders.

  Twang! The padding around my right leg flew off. It smacked the waitress in the back of the head. She staggered forward, spilling her tray of drinks all over the smoking-hot blonde and her jeering friends.

  They screeched like scalded cats.

  The man-whore lowered me until our lips met. “Why are you wearing this ugly disguise?”

  “I happen to like my dress,” I huffed.

  Fabian dropped me to the floor and spun me around him. “I love a good mystery.”

  “How nice for you.” I stumbled as the padding on my left leg fell down around my ankle. Desperate to get rid of it, I latched onto Fabian’s shoulders and kicked. The padding shot across the dance floor like a heat-seeking missile, right under the hot blonde’s feet.

  She tripped and fell face-first into a skinny dude’s lap.

  The skinny dude grinned in delight.

  I broke free and made a run for it.

  “We haven’t finished our dance yet.” Yanking me back, Fabian promenaded me across the dance floor, spinning me this way and that.

  My eyes narrowed. He wanted to dance? Game on. Step. Step. Kick.

  Fabian pivoted at the last moment, and my foot missed his groin.

  I scowled.

  An amused smile curved Fabian’s mouth. He dipped me and rained kisses up my throat.

  My brain turned to mush and my body caught fire.

  “You fucking bitch, get away from my husband.”

  Huh? I turned my head and saw Terie, the love-struck bimbo, charging across the dance floor. “You better let me go.”

  Fabian shot me between his legs.

  I skidded across the dance floor and watched Terie climb him like a tree. Time to leave before I made a fool of myself. I headed for the door.

  Smack! “You bastard! I want a divorce,” Terie screamed.

  Fabian rubbed his face and watched her storm off.

  “Ain’t love grand?”

  As if he had heard me, Fabian turned toward me.

  Throwing him an air-kiss, I quickly chanted a “nobody’s there” illusion spell and poof. I was invisible. Only a powerful witch could see me. I hurried out.

  The street was lined with stretch limos, taxis, and luxury vehicles. The door to a classic black Rolls was abruptly thrown open.

  I dodged to the left to miss it.

  A huge mountain of a man stepped out.

  A gasp escaped me. Sergei. One of the Dragos clan’s deadliest enforcers. Once a hunter put you in his crosshairs there was no escape. I scooted into the shadows. What was he doing here? And why hadn’t my psychic radar warned me about him?

  Sergei carefully surveyed the street and raised a cell phone to his ear. “I don’t see her. You think she’s a Vizzini spy?” He nodded. “Will do. I’ll take care of the woman, but you need to get that ring tonight. We’re running out of time.” Sergei frowned. “Relax. Your little spy won’t get far.”

  Okay, I might belong to the Vizzini clan, but I wasn’t a spy. I was the competition. The only one not going anywhere was him. I pulled a tranquilizer gun from my thigh holster and fired. The dart hit Sergei dead in the chest.

  He yanked the dart out and sneered. “This toy won’t work on me. I. Am. Dragos.”

  What a dumb ass. I shot him again.

  His eyes rolled back in his head, and down he went.

  “Tacitos obturo.” With a loud bang, all the tires on the limo went flat. God, I loved that spell.

  The limo driver jumped out armed with a Glock.

  I shot him too.

  He crumpled to the asphalt.

  “It’s been fun playing with you boys.” I got into an old battered van, grabbed my laptop off the passenger seat, and typed in the password. The bug I planted on Fabian was operational. What naughty things did Fabian have planned tonight?

  Speak of the devil. Out walked the bad boy. He came to an abrupt halt when he saw the Dragos clan’s enforcer sprawled on the sidewalk. Cursing a blue streak in a Gypsy dialect I didn’t know, Fabian dropped down beside Sergei and checked his pulse.

  This night was full of surprises. Was the Dragos clan using the famous supermodel, or was it the other way around?

  Fabian suddenly lifted his head and looked straight at my van.

  I did not like the feral gleam in his eyes. It was like he was a Dragos hunter too. But that wasn’t possible. I started the engine.

  The man-whore leaped to his feet and sprinted toward me.

  I put the pedal to the metal and sped off. One look at the side mirror, and my jaw dropped. Fabian was actually running after me, and damn, was he fast. I tossed a smoke bomb out the window. “Buh-bye.”

  Chapter Three

  On every job I have at least two safe houses. Sometimes my prey gets a little pissy about being exposed and they hunt me in return. Not a pleasant experience, but a good Girl Scout is always prepared. My dad was big on me doing normal girl stuff, and I joined the Scouts to please him. To my surprise, I picked up some useful skills. I still have my Trailblazer and Special Agent badges.

  This safe house was actually a seedy biker’s bar called Outlaws. I had done Trixie, the owner, a favor, and she loaned me vehicles or muscle when needed.

  Boisterous shouts, rock music, and wild, unrestrained laughter spilled out into the parking lot. Trixie had a full house tonight. I parked the van behind a row of motorcycles and noticed Bruno, the bouncer, heading my way. He was one scary-looking guy. Tattoos covered every inch of his muscular body, and metal horns sprouted from his forehead. My wart beat his horns.

  “Hey, Bruno.”

  He shook his head in disbelief. “Mariah?”

  “Yep, it’s me.”

  “That is one nasty-ass wart.”

  I laughed. “It does keep the guys away.”

  “No shit.” Bruno opened the car door and escorted me inside.

  The bar stank of old booze, grease, and sweat. A thick ha
ze of cigarette smoke hung in the air. A burly older biker looked me over and made obscene kissing noises. “Wanna fuck a real man?”

  “When I see one, I’ll let you know.”

  “Bitch!” He started for me.

  Bruno knocked him down with one punch. “The lady is off limits.”

  “Sure, boss.” He scuttled away.

  “I could have handled him.”

  “Just doin’ my job,” Bruno answered, ushering me into the office. “I’ll let the boss know you’re here.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Want a burger?”

  “God, yes, I’m starving.” The food here was to die for. Go figure.

  Bruno shot me a grin and closed the door.

  Hmmm. That grin made me very nervous. Bruno was a bit of a prankster. I quickly checked my laptop. Fabian was heading toward Summerlin, where the rich and famous lived. Which old gal did he have a hot date with tonight? Or was he planning on doing a little breaking and entering?

  Stripping off my fat suit and disguise, I hurriedly changed into what I called my ninja gear. A black hoodie, jeans, and boots.

  The door opened, and Trixie walked in with my burger and fries. She always reminded me of a prissy Sunday school teacher in leather. But behind her sweet smile was one mean bitch. Mess with her and she’d gut you in a heartbeat. Good thing we were friends.

  “Bruno added some Billy Biker jalapenos to your burger. He thought you might like the extra kick.”

  One cautious bite and my tongue went numb. “Ssshittt.” A firestorm erupted in my friggin’ mouth. “Hot. Hot. Hot.”

  Trixie handed me a cold beer. “Told him you were too much of a wuss to handle them.”

  I drained the beer. “Yeah. Big…wuss.”

  “Get the goods on your guy?” She gave me another beer.

  “There have been some complications.” I took a long swallow and sighed as it put out the fire. “Fabian has hooked up with the Dragos clan.”

  “The magical bunch! Are you fucking kidding me? They’re badasses. Nobody messes with them.”

  “My grandmother does.”

  “Well, she is nuts, but so am I.” Trixie pointed to the security monitors. “Is that one of them?”

  I spun around.

  Sergei and two of his goons climbed out of a black Hummer.

  “Fuck! How did they find me?”

  “With magic shit?”

  They expertly searched my getaway van before turning their attention to the bar.

  I grabbed my tranquilizer gun. “Sorry, Trixie. I’ll deal with them.”

  “Don’t sweat it. My guys can handle them.” She walked out to the scarred wooden bar.

  “You sure about that?” Picking up my goody bag, I followed her and froze.

  Sergei stood in the doorway with a glowing tracking stone in his hand. It was homing in on my unique aura.

  “Sedulo succinte,” I muttered under my breath. The stone kept glowing. Jeez, I had said the spell backward. Grams was right. I did need to spend more time practicing my witchcraft; but as the Judge, I didn’t use it that much. I concentrated on summoning my power. My skin suddenly prickled. There it was. “Succinte sedulo.”

  The tracking stone went dark.

  The Dragos enforcer yanked out a Glock and shot the jukebox. A rather spectacular firework of blue sparks shot into the air. Utter silence fell.

  Sergei bellowed, “I want the witch!”

  “Well, that’s just rude.” I wasn’t a full-blooded witch. I was something a little different.

  Bruno broke a pool cue over Sergei’s head, knocking him flat. “Dumb move, asshole.”

  Sergei erupted to his feet and punched Bruno in the kisser.

  “Sic ’em, boys,” Trixie commanded.

  Every biker in the joint jumped Sergei and his goons.

  Trixie threw me a set of keys. “Take my hog.”

  I caught the keys. “Thanks. I’ll pay for the damages.”

  She shook her head. “Don’t worry about it. Got my eye on that Hummer.”

  Ducking a flying chair, I darted out the rear door and ran into a boulder. Great. One of Sergei’s goons.

  The boulder laughed. “Going somewhere, witch?”

  “I. Am. Not. A. Witch. And yeah, I have somewhere to be.” I backed into the dimly lit parking lot.

  He grabbed my arm. “Tough.”

  “For you.” I rammed my knee into his balls.

  The Dragos goon dropped to the pavement with a wheeze of pain.

  I spun on my heel and lashed out with a solid side kick.

  His head snapped back, and he toppled over.

  “Just ’cause I’m pint-sized, doesn’t mean I can’t kick your ass.” I climbed on the hog.

  “Stop!”

  I threw a quick glance over my shoulder. Fuck. More goons. Time to disappear. Quickly chanting a “nobody’s there” illusion spell, I started the engine and roared off.

  I loved the open road. The wind in your hair and, oh yuck, the bugs in your teeth. I spat out grasshopper parts and slowed for a red light.

  A kid driving a muscle car glanced over at me. His head jerked around as he did a double take, and he ran right through the red light. Bam! He plowed into a city bus.

  I winced. That had to hurt.

  The furious bus driver bailed out. “How can you not see a bus?”

  “Sorry, mister.” The shaken kid pointed at my motorcycle. “It ain’t got a driver.”

  Planting his hands on his hips, the driver asked, “Are you high?”

  A lady in a white luxury car pulled alongside me and gaped in disbelief.

  I looked down. Holy hell. I was invisible, but the motorcycle wasn’t. Stupid, stupid mistake. As the Judge, I seldom needed to use my magical abilities. Until this case, and boy, was I out of practice.

  Red and blue lights flashed in my side mirror. A hand on his gun, a cop walked slowly toward me.

  The woman in the luxury car rolled her window down and yelled at the cop. “It’s driving itself! How is that even possible?”

  “Don’t know, ma’am,” the cop responded.

  I expanded the invisibility spell.

  The stunned expression on the cop’s face was priceless. “What the fuck?”

  After what seemed like an eternity, the light turned green. I hit the gas. I had a medallion to recover.

  Chapter Four

  Fabian’s yellow Porsche Spyder was parked in the driveway of a rather spooky-looking castle. I typed the address into my laptop. Yep, just as I thought. The mansion belonged to the De Lucas. There were rumors that Heather De Luca dabbled in the black arts. According to my grandmother, Heather had once tried to summon a demon to increase her fortune. The only thing the evil bitch accomplished was burning down her ten-million-dollar mansion, forcing her to move into this swell place.

  Fabian was after a ring. With the Dragos clan involved it had to be magical.

  Hacking into the security system, I found Fabian in a bedroom straight out of the Dark Ages. A massive canopy bed, creepy gargoyle statues, and a slew of cobwebs. On the nightstand was a bottle of champagne and two half-empty glasses.

  Fabian slow-danced a withered old woman in a frilly pink negligee around the bed. I brought up Heather De Luca’s driver’s license information. Yep, it was her. Time had not been kind to granny.

  I grabbed my cell phone and punched in a number. I almost puked when the man-whore planted a hot one on Heather’s mouth. Ugh. Those lips of his had touched mine. I dug into my goody bag. Where had I put those disinfecting wipes?

  A sleepy male voice answered my call. “Whassup, Mariah?”

  “You still have that tow truck, Hank?”

  “I do.”

  “I need you to tow a Porsche Spyder for me. Quietly.”

  “A Spyder, huh? Send me the details. It’ll be gone in twenty minutes.” Hank disconnected.

  Hank was a man of few words and a
talented jack-of-all-trades. If I ever needed a surface-to-air missile or the ultimate chocolate cake, he was my go-to man.

  I flipped my computer screen back to the bedroom.

  Heather unzipped Fabian’s pants.

  He spun away from her and started doing an erotic striptease with a little bump and grind thrown in.

  Damn. His routine was hot, but the thought of him doing it with Granny De Luca was creeping me out. I tapped a key on my laptop.

  The house alarm began to wail.

  That should kill the mood.

  Heather hurried over to a keypad and shut it off.

  With one tap on my keyboard, I had the sirens screaming again.

  The old crone turned it off.

  I turned it back on.

  Off.

  On.

  Off.

  On.

  Fabian rolled his eyes and did something to the keypad. Silence reigned.

  I punched the key again. Nothing happened. Well, shit.

  A tow truck with the Porsche Spyder on the flatbed drove by me. Whoa, it hadn’t even been ten minutes. Time to permanently shut the party down.

  “Gradalis unus pretiosa,” I chanted, focusing on the front door of the De Lucas’ house. The door shattered.

  Well, hell, not a peep from the damn alarm. The great seduction scene was not happening on my watch. I dialed 9-1-1.

  “9-1-1. What is your emergency?”

  Doing my best impression of a concerned citizen, I cried, “Oh, my God. Oh, my God. There’s a man breaking into my neighbor’s house.”

  The dispatcher asked, “What’s the address?”

  “It’s 22321 North Mainland Road. It’s the spooky-looking castle.”

  The dispatcher’s fingers clacked over the keyboard as she rapidly typed the information into her computer. “How did he make entry?”

  “He kicked in the front door. There’s no one home except that poor, helpless old lady.”

  “Is the man white, Hispanic, or black?”

  “Hispanic, I think.”

  Her voice calm and professional, the dispatcher asked, “How tall is he?”

  “I’m not sure. He’s a big guy.”

  “What’s he wearing?”

  “A black shirt and jeans,” I answered, frowning at my monitor. Heather wobbled drunkenly. Fabian scooped her up, dumped her on the bed, and started rummaging through her jewelry box. The sick fuck had drugged her.