Dead Rising by Debra Dunbar Read Free Book Online

noodles had left me with a pastry craving that would make a heroin junkie cringe.
    The smile vanished with my capitulation, replaced with a critical eye. He glanced over my scruffy appearance once again. “How long will it take you to get ready?”
    Are you kidding? There was a cannoli calling my name. “Give me ten.”
    I left him and dashed into my bedroom, stripping as I hit the doorway. A quick sponge down, a versatile black dress with heels, a quick brush of mascara, and I was almost ready—except for my hair. I hadn’t combed it this morning, and it truly did look like a nuclear power plant meltdown. I ripped the elastic out, staring with dismay at the dark tangles that adored my head and cascaded down past my shoulders. Shit. Without an hour of product and flat irons there wasn’t much I could do but scrape it back into a bun and hope for the best.
    I managed to wrestle the knotted mess back to the nape of my neck, pulling a couple strands out to drape along my face. There. Almost as an afterthought, I grabbed a tube of lipstick and slapped it on, noticing with amusement that it was blood red.
    “Ready.”
    There was no double-take, no hot sultry glances. Dario looked at his watch then nodded approvingly. “Nine minutes. I’m impressed.”
    Great. I should have just gone in my grungy work clothes. Hopefully there’d be someone at Sesarios who appreciated my effort. Maybe I’d flirt with the waiter. In the meantime, all I had was this vampire who looked like electroshock therapy wouldn’t get a rise out of him. Again I thought of last night with a bit of resentment, which reminded me that I needed to take precautions.
    “Hang on a second. I need to grab something.” I dashed back into my bed room, not to get a condom but to grab a fifty out of my money stash. If Dario was going to ditch me in Little Italy after I’d had half a bottle of expensive Chianti, then I was taking a cab.
    “You keep your money in a tampon box?”
    I whirled around at his astonished question, shocked that he’d followed me into the bathroom and that I hadn’t heard one footstep. And yes, I was still holding the box in one hand and the fifty in the other.
    He tilted his head. “A tampon box that is far more repulsive and off-putting than a container for feminine hygiene products should be.”
    I knew my face was red. I hastily closed the lid of said box and stuffed it back under the bathroom sink, pocketing the cash. “It’s a spell to deter theft. I don’t always have time to run to the bank, and my rent is due.”
    Dario nodded and raised an eyebrow. “Nice job. I know the money is there and I wouldn’t think of touching that container. Of course, I’m not particularly motivated by money.”
    I bit my tongue before I could ask him what he was motivated by. Not my business, and I was pretty sure I didn’t want to know the answer anyway.
    Sesarios was in a narrow brick building on the corner of two equally narrow streets. After slowly bouncing our way over the potholes, Dario parked his SUV at the rear of the building where the dim lights barely penetrated the shadows. I clutched my purse, resisting the urge to get out my keychain. It seemed like the perfect place for a vampire to get his blood fix for the evening, out of sight and hearing of pretty much everyone in the city.
    Around front, the lighting was much stronger, as well the smell of garlic and pasta. Inside, Sesarios seemed a typical dressy Italian restaurant. Well, except for the vampires. They were everywhere, dining with others of their kind and/or human companions. I looked around, my eyes big as I tried to calculate just how many of them there must be in the city if over twenty were in this tiny place.
    The hostess, a red-blooded human, took us down a set of stairs to a cozy section with even more vampire diners. Thankfully fresh baked bread and the instantly-appearing bottle of wine took my mind off being surrounded by so many undead.
    I took a sip of the