Roaring Shadows: Macey Book 2 (The Gardella Vampire Hunters 8) by Colleen Gleason Read Free Book Online

showed the tops of her breasts, which she’d confined by a lace-trimmed side-tying corset that allowed freedom of movement, and, more importantly, the ability to draw in a full breath as well as bend and twist. The evening jacket Capone had chosen for the ensemble was made from sheer midnight-blue material also embroidered with beading: black, cobalt, and midnight. Its sleeves were long and wide, resembling those of a kimono, and the jacket, which hung open like a robe, fell in points past her knees.
    Macey pinned a cerulean-blue flower in her short, ink-black curls, tucking it just above and behind her left ear. She tucked a filigree silver cross on a chain beneath her clothing, preferring the element of surprise to a badge of identification. Sparkling blue crystal earrings and a wide sapphire cuff—with real gemstones—as well as long dove-gray gloves completed the accessories sent by her employer.
    Her stockings were sheer, shot with silver threads, and ended above her knees, where they were held in place by black garters. A flash of them would be revealed every time her skirt rode up upon sitting or climbing into a vehicle. Into one of the black straps she slipped a special stake. It was the shape of a flattened oval, similar to a drafting pencil, and about the width of her two fingers. Its point was long and sharp. Into the other garter, she slid a knife in its sheath. There was also a small opening in the side of her frock that looked like a pocket, but was just a circular hole made from thread through which she could hang a stake. With the dress being loose, it wouldn’t ruin the way it hung.
    And then there was her pocketbook—long and shallow. Perfect for a stake, her lip color, a few bucks, and a tiny derringer.
    She had just slipped on dark blue shoes—lower heels than fashion generally dictated for obvious reasons, and decorated with sparkling pink flowers over each foot’s arch—when a knock came at the door.
    Seven o’clock. Right on time.
    Macey had met Gus before—he was the one who’d driven her to Cicero, and the other few times she’d been transported somewhere at Capone’s whim. Neither of them felt the need to speak as he gestured for her to precede him into the elevator, but she was fully aware of his appreciative look sweeping her from head to toe. She filed that away for potential future interest and swept into the elevator.
    “You look stunning,” said Capone when Macey walked across the Lexington’s lobby to meet him. He took her arm, leaning close enough to mutter for her ears only, “And little do all da boys know, you’re deadly in more than looks, ain’t ya, doll?”
    “Da boys” were stationed around the lobby and in the alley Capone used for entrance and exit, because it could be closed off on either end for protection. Each of the dark-suited men were armed, a fact which was obvious by the bulges beneath their suits, the way they stood, and, in some cases, the firearms poking boldly from between shirt and waistband.
    One of them opened the door to a sleek black limousine, flanked in front and behind by two other vehicles.
    “I didn’t wear the corset,” she said as she settled into the seat across from Big Al. “I couldn’t move in it.”
    Capone looked as if he wanted to retort—he did not like to be naysaid—but then pursed his lips. “Suppose I best look at changing that then. Yain’t no good to me if ya can’t strike out when necessary.”
    Macey hadn’t been inside Capone’s personal limousine before, and she looked around at its luxury. The engine purred as the vehicle slid away from the curb, and her employer noticed.
    “Ya don’t need to worry when you’re in my car,” he said—as if the thought had crossed her mind. But maybe it should have, for as he had pointed out previously, Capone had been the target of assassination attempts by competitors multiple times over the last year. “It’s got reinforced doors, and the glass is so thick no damn