Page 19 of Angel Of Darkness

“I don’t trust you,” she whispered.

“Good.” His hand was still up. “You have five more seconds, and then you can fight them all on your own.” She hadn’t taken more than a few sips of blood from him. She wouldn’t be strong enough to battle her enemies during the daytime. Surely she’d realize that.

But she was backing away. “I know better than to trust a man with such a beautiful face.”

That statement had him blinking in surprise.

“Especially when I know what lies faces like yours hold. The last man who looked like you—handsome and perfect—he taught me about hell.”

His heart slammed into his ribs. “What man?”

But she kept talking and he wasn’t sure she even heard his question. “He got into my head. Took away my choice. Made me…” She swallowed. “I don’t trust anyone now. And surely not someone who looks like you.”

Then she ran from him. Again. Right into the night.

He stood there with his hand still up. He waited a few moments. Just a few, and then?—

Keenan heard her scream. He heard the telltale thuds of fists in battle. He heard a man cry out in agony.

If only she had trusted him...

Then the squeal of tires echoed in the dying night and burnt rubber filled his nose. The men had gotten their prize. They’d captured their vamp.

Pity. They should have listened to him. He never lied. Never made idle threats.

Now it was time for them to die.

The jerks had tossed her into the trunk. Like that was going to hold her inside. Maybe if they’d waited until the sun was higher in the sky, then she’d have been trapped. But not now.

She lifted her knees up and slammed them into the metal above her. The lock popped with a shriek, and the trunk flew open.

The car immediately swerved, jerking to the right, then to the left. Nicole sat up and grabbed the back of the car. She knew she’d have to jump for it and hitting that pavement would hurt. But it wasn’t like it would be the first time she’d had some flesh ripped away.

A bullet zinged by her head. She ducked, seeing too late the pickup truck that was zooming behind her. The pickup—and the man hanging out the passenger’s side with the gun pointed at her.

Where the hell were cops when she needed them?

And, of course, no one else was on the road. Those awake at this hour were still straggling out of the bars, and they sure as hell weren’t on this lonely stretch of road.

On my own. Maybe she should have listened to the hunter.

And maybe he would have just staked her the moment she let down her guard.

Oh, well. She heaved up and jumped out of the car.

The shooter fired again. Missed.

She hit the pavement, and, yes, the flesh tore right off her arm. She rolled, then hit again. Rolled.

The truck came charging right for her.

She kept tumbling, aiming her body for the edge of the highway and that incline she could see waiting.

The car’s driver slammed on the brakes and the loud squeal hurt her ears.

They’d have to hunt her on foot once she made it off the highway. If she could make it off the highway. The sun was creeping up in the sky, and she could feel the weakness starting to weigh down her limbs.

Carlos—the guy she’d thought was such a prime mark back at the cantina—ran toward her. Dammit, she should have realized that setup had been too easy. When would she learn?

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