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

bullet’s gonna pass through it. Cost me twenty grand, and General Motors made it specially for me—one of a kind. I even had ’em put special combination locks on the doors so no one’s gonna be able to slip a bomb inside for me. And Johnny and the others are in front and behind us—we’ll get to the Castle safely, don’t you worry, doll.”
    “What do you want me to do tonight?”
    He seemed neither surprised nor irked by her demand. “Watch. And do whatever has to be done,” he said with an impatient flap of his hand. “But make it quiet. Don’t be disrupting the damned show, you got it?”
    “Are you expecting undead to be there? How on earth would they get past your boys?”
    “I prepare for the unexpected, so what I expect is irrelevant. I’m hosting Satchmo tonight, sweets—the last thing I wanna be doin’ is worrying about whether there’s an undead lurking about. That’s your job. You got that?”
    “I got that.” Macey settled back in her seat and realized for the first time how incredibly quiet the vehicle ran, and how she didn’t feel even the slightest bump on the road. As the sights of Chicago rolled by, she smoothed the skirt over her thighs and adjusted the flower in her hair, watching the street and business names to orient herself to their location.
    “Damn, you got some nice legs there, doll,” said Al. His voice was as objective as if he was talking about the taste of coffee. “You got a whole ’nother set of assets than my boys an’ their guns. Use them wisely.”
    Macey saw no reason to respond, and soon the limousine purred to a halt in front of The Music Castle. Lights shone everywhere: from streetlights studding the sidewalk, to the colored marquee of the club’s name, to a trio of spotlights that circled and dodged like manic fireflies around the entrance to the venue. Al Capone Welcomes Louis Armstrong , announced the sign, punctuated by a frame of gold light bulbs that looked like a moving rectangle. People gathered in front of the theater, but eight burly, ferocious-looking men were arranged to keep the bystanders at a safe distance from the new arrivals.
    Macey followed her boss out of the limo, and she felt as if she were being physically pelted by flashes of camera bulbs. One of his goons helped her slide from the low vehicle, then Capone offered her his arm. Instead of escorting her inside, however, he paused to greet the crowd thronging the sidewalk.
    She stood there, the sultry April breeze ruffling the hem of her frock and tousling her curls as Big Al held court with his admirers. Jovial and expansive as usual when greeting the public, he answered some questions from bystanders, made a few jokes, and accepted the offer of a light for his cigar from one of his bodyguards.
    “Hey, Snorky! Who’s the dame?” asked someone whose face was obscured by the bright spotlights and the continuing flashes from photographers.
    “This here’s my escort for the night,” Al replied, tightening his grip on Macey’s arm, as if expecting her to flee. “Don’t she got a nice look to her?”
    Someone hooted and whistled, others cheered, and another person shouted, “The broad’s sure got some sweet gams on her!”
    “What’s Mae gonna say, Snorky? She gonna make you go to confession again?”
    Some of the crowd laughed, for Capone was known for going to confession weekly. He chuckled too, gesturing with his cigar. “Well, Mae ain’t gonna know if none of you tells her! Anyway, she knows my heart belongs to her, even though it’s nice for a little variety now and then, eh, boys?” He leered at Macey, and some of the men in the audience cheered, while a few whistled catcalls.
    Her cheeks were hot with fury, and it was all she could do to keep from shaking off the odious man’s arm and showing him—and the rest of the men—a little variety of her own.
    As if sensing her rising ire, Capone chomped on his cigar, and, with a mere look, indicated to his goons that the