Dead Man Running: Book Two - Supernatural Bounty Hunter Romance Novellas (13 page)

“Yes, absolutely, Mr. Marlowe.  Mr. Harlot-Jenkins will receive the package in the morning.  I will, goodbye, Mr. Marlowe.”

“Dickhead!” yelled the other witch. 
Another witch who was apparently immune to his dubious charms.

The witch stomped around the room for a few minutes, muttering inaudibly, although Alma could guess the subject matter.

The other witch’s phone tinkled, and she let out an exaggerated sigh before she answered.  “Yes, Mr. Marlowe?”

The other witch was silent for a couple of minutes, and Alma held her breath. 
Did she know Alma was in the closet?
 
Was she readying to open the door and pounce?
  Viktor thankfully had gone quiet, although she feared it meant he was preparing to storm in and rescue her.  Part of her was excited at that, whilst another was resentful that he thought she needed rescuing.

Alma almost leapt up the wall of the closet when the other witch started talking again.

“No, the door was locked when I came in, all I know is that a woman was seen skulking around the entrance to the private corridor…”

Alma felt the blood drain out of her face. 
Someone had seen her
.

“I see; I will have Ash guard your door for the rest of the night… Ash, he’s the rhino shifter, no Mr. Marlowe, nothing will get past him.  Goodbye, Mr. Marlowe…  Prick!”

Alma listened as the other witch noisily left the office and locked it again.  Alma sighed and slumped back onto the wall of the closet, giving a sharp yelp as something sharp dug into her back.  She fumbled for a light switch and found herself surrounded by what appeared to be a large variety of medieval torture implements.  She shuddered and stumbled out of there as quickly as possible.

“Viktor?  Are you still there?”

No answer. 
Oh lord, what if James had found him sat outside the club in his car?
  What if James had hurt him?!  She had to get out of there, pronto.  She couldn’t use the door, not with an enormous shifter on the other side of it.

Thankfully the office had a window, even if it was tiny.  She was sure she could squeeze through;
she was extremely motivated.

Slipping her enormous heels off, she clambered onto the chest of draws under the window.  With a few sharp pull
s the window mercifully opened toward her, at least it would shut on the way out.  She threw her shoes and purse out and wriggled her way through, squirming and grunting for all she was worth.

A quarter of the way through,
she panicked that she was never going to fit.  Half way through, she got excited that she was going to make it, and three-quarters of the way she started panicking again, after she realized she was going to fall flat on her face.

With a shriek, she plunged head first out the window and landed in a dumpster, on top of a nice pile of squishy garbage.  Thank heavens for small mercies, she thought as she wiggled about and found her purse and shoes.

“Terrific!”  She started picking at some cold noodles that had attached themselves to her outfit, so much for wearing this dress again.

Harrumphing, Alma waded to the side of the dumpster and was about to heave herself out when she heard loud, irate voices.  She ducked down and hid amongst the garbage, fearing she had been discovered.

She waited anxiously, preparing to send blasts of energy at whoever pulled her out of the dumpster.  When nothing happened she peered out through her covering of garbage, and bit back a scream as someone poured something exceptionally smelly and cold all over her.

The voices laughed and started chatting.  They were speaking Chinese; she realized they must belong to chefs from the Chinese restaurant a few doors down from the club. 
Chefs who had just gotten rid of what appeared to be some variety of fish soup.

Right, as if she needed this to get any worse than it already was!

Alma turned her head slightly, to find herself staring into the dead, glassy eyes of a fish head.
Ugh! 
She started flailing around, uncaring as to who heard her. 
She had to get out of there that very second!

She pushed open the lid of the dumpster to be met with her frantic looking mate.  He stared at her in shock for a few seconds before mirth passed over his handsome face.

“Don’t you dare laugh at me!” she warned, menacingly.

She hurled her shoes and purse at him before allowing him to lift her out.  She smelt of rotten fish and was covered in scales and noodles.  His face twitched; he was perilously close to laughing.

He opened his mouth to say something when Alma cut him off.  “Not a single word, vampire.  I need a shower, stat.” 

Chapter Eighteen

“Look, there he is, that must be the package James mentioned on the phone.”  Viktor inclined his head toward the portly,
Alma loved that word now
, badger shifter.  The badger was standing outside his house in a robe, signing for a thin, manila envelope.

Alma squinted through the binoculars;
lucky vampire didn’t need them
.

She quickly put the binoculars down again.  “I wish you’d warned me his robe wasn’t tied, I can make out everything.”

The vampire chuckled.  “Just imagine how the poor delivery girl feels.”

“I’d rather not…”

They were camped outside of Adrian Harlot-Jenkins’ house, a gaudy three-floor structure fashioned on the Parthenon.  It looked more than a little out of place surrounded by the fashionable beach houses.

Alma and Viktor were parked a little way down to the street.  It was their intention to follow Adrian Harlot-Jenkins.

*

After the
y arrived home at Alma’s apartment the previous night, when Alma had showered, and Viktor had stopped laughing, they sifted through the information downloaded on the memory drive. 
They hit pay dirt.

Thankfully
, James was not overly concerned with computer security, so had happily left a wealth of information on his computer unencrypted.  Probably too arrogant to think anyone could actually get into his office at all.  Alma would have gloated in James’ face if he had been there,
whilst hiding behind Viktor, of course.

They found files named after various Council members.  One was named after the flamingo shifter on the Council. 
No kidding, there actually was an actual flamingo shifter on the Council!
  Alma almost laughed herself silly, out of all the shifters in the world, people had trouble taking them seriously,
something to do with them being pink…
  The flamingo had evidently added an additional story to her mansion house without planning permission.

The second file was named for the dolphin shifter.  His son had embezzled money out of his real estate company to fund a gambling addiction.  According to the information, the son had actually retrieved the money, and the company was back on track.

The third file detailed how the witch member used to sell love potions in college; it was a slap on the wrist and community service offense, although the statute of limitations had run out on that anyway.

When Alma read through all this, she frowned.  As embarrassing as these things were, they were hardly explosive, breaking news.  As she read through each file in turn, Alma almost dislocated her jaw from yawning so much.

She clearly missed the point, because Viktor had looked deadly serious.  He explained that they weren’t necessarily arrestable offenses, but they were potentially damaging enough that the Council members might be forced to step down from their positions.  He doubted any of them wanted that.

Alma hummed as he scrolled through the files, deciding which to look at next, when a name caught her eye, the title of the folder was, ‘Harlot-Jenkins.’

She tapped his arm.  “Ooh, click on that file, I heard the assistant mention his name when I was hiding in the closet of doom.”

Viktor bristled at the mention of her being in James’ office; he was still beating himself up for even allowing her into that club. 
Alma, with all her usual delicacy and tenderness, told him to suck it the hell up.

The file opened to reveal several lurid photos of two me
n, in bondage gear, and
en flagrante
.

Viktor sucked in a pointless breath.

Alma’s brow creased in confusion.  “What?  I’ll bet Julian’s had way more kinkier sex than this.”

“Undoubtedly, but Julian doesn’t have six kids and isn’t married to a ruthless divorce attorney.”

“Oh.”

“Oh, indeed.  That’s Adrian Harlot-Jenkins, he’s a badger shifter, and he’s been on the Council for ten years.  From what I understand, his wife has all the money, and he just does as he’s told.”

Alma rubbed her lip thoughtfully.  “Oh, dear.  Who’s the other guy?”

Viktor looked at her, baffled.  “How would I know?”

Alma threw up her arms.  “Well, you knew who Adrian Hairless-Whatever was, why wouldn’t you know the other guy too?”

The vampire shrugged.  “Well, first of all, the name of the file was Harlot-Jenkins, and secondly, he’s a well-known man.  This other guy could be anyone, although,” he peered at the screen, “I would guess he’s a snake shifter, judging by the size of his…”

“Stop!  I don’t want to know; I’ll just take your word for it.”

Viktor bit back a chuckle.  “What exactly did the assistant say?”

“Nothing really, something about a package being delivered tomorrow morning.  Do you think maybe he’s sending him copies of the photos?  Do you think James wants money?” she asked eagerly.

Viktor pursed his lips.  “James already has money, why would he
ask for more and risk getting sent to prison for it?”

“I don’t know, for some people, they can never have enough.”  She leaned her head on his shoulder and brushed her lips over his skin, sending tremors throughout his muscled frame.  “Maybe he’s stockpiling it, so he can do a Scrooge
McDuck and dive into it.”

Viktor laughed and circled an arm round her supple body, drawing her nearer before kissing her upturned nose.  “Yes, my darling, I think you’ve cracked it.”

She snuggled against him.  “It does seem odd that he has so much information over nearly all the Council members in his possession.  It has to be about the Council.”

“I agree,” he murmured as his fingers slowly worked their way under the pajama top.  “I just can’t see what James’ endgame is.  It is so unlike him to want to get involved in politics.  He always used to say that he was waiting for the humans to ruin the world and destroy themselves, so that the vampires would inherit the earth.”

“Hmmm, how lovely.”  Alma moaned as his hand sought her breast and massaged her hard nipple.  “Do you think maybe James wants to replace Julian as the vampire Council member?”  She panted slightly, trying to retain her composure. 
Not an easy feat.

Viktor smoothly turned her and laid her back on the couch.  He lifted her shirt up and smothered kisses on her stomach, licking her belly button and nibbling on her hip bone.

“I doubt it,” he murmured in between kisses, “the idea of discussing matters with shifters and witches, and listening to their opinions wouldn’t appeal to James.”

“
Oooh… so umm, what should… what should… we…”  Her chest heaved as Viktor divested her of her shorts.

He gave her a toothy grin. 
Damn smug vampire
.  “I think perhaps we should see what our friend Mr. Harlot-Jenkins is doing.”

“Right now?”  Alma couldn’t keep the disappointment out of her voice.

She quivered as he ran a claw up and down the smooth skin of her thigh.  “No, tomorrow,” he purred.

*

Alma had not been happy about Viktor going out in the daytime.  He did, however, promise to stay in his tinted-window car at all times and wear sunglasses.  She had tried to argue, but much to her chagrin he pointed out that he was supposed just to sit by while she did something dangerous, so she couldn’t object to him doing something equally dangerous.

She did try to object though, stating that the two situations were completely different.  Viktor agreed; hers was much worse.  At least he could heal himself if he got a bit of sunburn, she couldn’t heal from having her throat ripped out.  Viktor then went on to gripe about her being alone in the club,
again
.

“I don’t know why you’re annoyed; I’m the one that nearly got nipple clamps attached to my girls!”  Alma reached down and rubbed her breasts, cringing just thinking of the pain.

Viktor watched her avidly, licking his tongue over his protruding fangs.  Alma stopped and scowled when she noticed him.

“Don’t stop on my account.”

She stuck out her tongue out,
in an as lady like fashion as she could manage
, before picking up the binoculars and resuming her spying.  Mercifully the semi-clad badger shifter had retreated indoors.

Alma sighed.  “Nothing’s happening.”

Viktor grunted but kept his eyes trained on the house.

Alma clucked her tongue.  She looked up and down the road, admiring the different houses.  She then started picking at a few chips in her nail polish;
that dumpster diving hadn’t done her nails any favors
.  After that she started humming, then she went through her purse looking through old receipts that had been in there for months, before fiddling with the radio and declaring that all DJs are idiots, and switching it off.

She huffed and folded her arms.  “We’ve been here ages, is he ever going to leave the house?”

Viktor cocked an eyebrow.  “We’ve been here twenty minutes; we were just lucky we turned up in time to see him receive that package.  We would have been here sooner if you hadn’t insisted on stopping by Hola Sunshine.”

Alma rolled her shoulders.  “What?  I was hungry; it’s not my fault an insatiable vampire kept me up all night working up an appetite.”

Viktor graced her with a lascivious smile before retraining his focus on the house.  “A-ha!” he cried.

“Is something happening?  Or are you just gearing up to kill Peter Pan?”

“Something’s happening,” he told her triumphantly.

Alma peered through the binoculars and was elated to see that something was indeed happening.  The portly badge was at the front door, stood on his tiptoes, leaning up to kiss a tall, gorgeous ginger-haired woman.

“Wowzer!” exclaimed Alma.  “Is that his wife?  She looks like a model.”

“Yep, that’s Scarlet Harlot-Jenkins, number one divorce attorney in all Playa Lunar.”

“Wait, Scarlet Harlot, seriously?”  She snickered.  “That’s fabulous!  I’m not being funny, but he’s a short, portly badger, who’s at least ten years older than her, and doesn’t have as much money as her, how did he bag her?”

“Thankfully there are some beautiful, perfect women in the world willing to settle for less, I’m lucky to have one of those women myself.”  Viktor leaned over and sucked on her neck for a couple of beats.

“Suck-up!” she chided, secretly delighted.  “Knowing that he’s a lying, cheating bastard makes me hate him, but knowing that he’s lying and cheating on her, boggles the mind.  Ooh, heads up, he’s leaving.”

Adrian, the badger, slipped into his yellow sports car and revved the engine, although he actually drove at a surprisingly leisurely pace.  Viktor maintained a couple of car length’s distance.

They followed the badger to the bank, to a trendy hair salon and then to lunch with a group of men at an outside restaurant,
none of whom was the snake from the photos
.  Alma absolutely insisted Viktor remain in the car, so she ducked into the restaurant to keep a closer eye on their quarry.  Plus she was really hungry again; it had been an exhausting night.  It was alright for Viktor; she’d allowed him a little snack while they were waiting outside the hair salon.

Whilst Alma was happily wolfing a plate of seafood risotto, and half listening to the badger’s friends talking about their golf swing
s, Viktor parked the car in a shady spot, on a secluded street, close to the badger’s car.

Alma noted that while
his friends seemed like entitled, rich, a-holes, the badger was kind of quiet.  The others were obnoxious and leered at the waitress, but the badger was respectful and apologetic.  If it weren’t for the
cheating on his wife thing
, he would have gone up a notch in her estimation.

She sent texts to Viktor, telling him what was happening; after he had received seventeen texts that said ‘nothing,' he texted back to tell her to stop.

After a much too fast lunch in Alma’s opinion, the badger paid his share of the check and bid adieu to his friends.  Alma hastily followed him out the restaurant.

She watched as he reached his car and spotted Viktor, a little further down the street, carefully stepping out his own car and standing in the shade.

At that moment, she made a decision.  She’d had enough of stalking him; it was getting them nowhere. 
It was time for action.

Alma strode toward the badger.  “Excuse me, Mr
. Harlot-Jenkins, can we talk?”

He started when she spoke, and paled when she said his name.  He fumbled with the car key.  “I’m sorry, but I have somewhere to be.”

Alma leaned against the car door, blocking his entrance, her tall frame towered over him.  “It’s really important, please.”

He looked at her impatiently before fear washed over his features.  “You’re with them aren’t you?  You’re working for him?”

“What?  Who are you talking about?”

The badger turned bright red with fury, as black and white fur started sprouting.  “Why can’t you people just leave me alone?  What do I have to do, to earn a little privacy?”