than unique .
“So you lost the fight and still owe the Vrykolakas a ton of money. Why are you still walking around? Why didn’t they break your kneecaps or something?”
Romeo gestured to their surroundings. “I’ve been getting my Howard Hughes on, darlin’. I haven’t left this place since the fight.”
She narrowed her eyes on him. “Then how did you know I was at the casino?”
“Before the fight, just in case, I wired every vamp and shifter casino in town. I’ve got cameras and bugs all over the place. If anyone is gunning for me, I’ll know it right away.”
“And you risked walking into a casino to grab me? Why?”
He brushed her hair out of her eyes and grinned when she tried to bite his hand. “I need you to do something for me, Harpy. Just one little favor and you’ll never see me again.”
Well, the never seeing him again part actually sounded pretty good, but she failed to see what she could do to help him out of his current situation. It’s not like she had ties to the paranormal mafia, for God’s sake. “Do you need paperwork to escape or something? Because I haven’t made fake IDs in years.”
And making fake IDs, much like learning a foreign language, was a skill you lost if you didn’t use it regularly. Harper had gotten good at it years ago when they helped an abused housewife escape her asshole vampire husband. But she hadn’t done it since. She was pretty sure her lamination machine didn’t even work anymore.
“No,” Romeo said, glancing down, which struck Harper as ominous. After a brief pause, he continued, “I need you to convince Riddick to fight in the Arena on my behalf.”
Chapter Eight
Harper burst out laughing, but when Romeo didn’t even crack a smile, her own smile fell. “You’re not kidding.”
He shook his head, offering her an annoying crooked grin. “Nope. I need Riddick. He’s the only fighter I’ve ever seen that can take on the guy who beat me, the Lykoi’s final fighter.”
“How do you even know the Vrykolakas will let a stand-in fight for you? They might kill you on sight.”
The annoying grin grew. “That’s where you come in. The boss, Archer, is a sucker for pretty little things like you. If anyone can talk him into it, it’s you.”
I swear to God, when my hands are free … “Romeo, you are certifiable. Why on earth would I allow myself—and Riddick—to be pimped out to save your sorry ass?”
His grin faded. “I was hoping you’d feel a little gratitude for getting you started in the business, and lending you that money last year.”
“Oh, fuck you! You didn’t lend me anything. Riddick had to beat that money out of you, and it was money you owed me, anyway.”
His jaw tightened visibly. “So, you’re saying there’s nothing I can do to convince you to help me.”
“No,” she said, more emphatic than she’d ever been in her life. “There’s nothing you can do to convince me to endanger myself and Riddick in an attempt to save you from a mess you created all on your own.”
He glanced away and sighed, and when his eyes met hers again, the desperation she’d seen earlier was back, plus…a little something different. Something colder.
He pulled a syringe out of his back pocket.
A chill skated down her spine. “What are you doing, Romeo? What’s that?”
Romeo held up the syringe and flicked it a few times with his index finger. “What do you know about the cleaners who worked for Sentry?”
Harper’s mind raced. What the hell did Sentry cleaners have to do with the paranormal mafia?
“Not much,” she answered carefully. “I know they came in after seers and slayers left and removed the bodies. Destroyed evidence. Wiped the minds of witnesses.”
And they were badasses, she didn’t bother to add. Scary, too. They were cold, robotic, and ruthless. They saw the worst of the worst, and it didn’t seem to bother them in any way. When cleaners walked the halls at Sentry headquarters,
Learning to Kill: Stories