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Authors: Gail Koger

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BOOK: Catching Dragos
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Damn, his swordsmanship was spectacular. Who would have figured?

Two more demons jumped onto the stage. With a flurry of blows, Fabian

decimated them. The demonic redcoats were reduced to nothing more than thick black

cinders swirling across the stage.

The audience erupted into thunderous applause.

There wasn’t a mark on the man-whore. Yep. Special effects. Really awesome

special effects, but the bottom line was, no one was that good. Not even me.

An anorexic woman wearing a tiny pink dress that barely covered her hoo-ha

tried to climb up on the walkway. “Fabian! Our children need you.”

Someone was off her meds. I grabbed her leg and yanked her back down. “Guests

are not permitted on the stage.”

The heel on her sparkly, four-inch stiletto snapped off. The love-struck bimbo

collapsed in a drunken heap at my feet. She waved the shoe at me and shrieked, “You

whoring slut, my name is Terie, and Fabian is my husband.”

“I don’t care. Go back to your table.”


The nutcase held out her left hand and pointed to a cheap cubic zirconium set in a

gaudy silver wedding ring. “Elvis married us at the Viva Las Vegas wedding chapel.”

Sometimes surveillance really sucked. “Sounds like a real classy wedding, but I

still need you to go back to your table, ma’am.”

Terie shot to her feet and teetered unsteadily on her one stiletto. “Fabian is my

soul mate. You can’t have him.”

“I’m gay. He’s all yours.”

She stared at my mole for a long moment. You could see the wheels turning in her

psychotic brain. Was I after her man or not?

Since I did resemble an ugly prison matron, I did my best to look butch. “Why

don’t you give me your phone number, and I’ll have Fabian call you after the show.”

“Do you think I’m stupid?”

Just a bit.

Fabian and the pirates danced across the stage, quickly shedding their clothing.

The bimbo’s worshipful gaze followed them.

The audience hooted and hollered.

A red satin shirt landed on my head.

“Mine!” Terie shouted as she snatched it away. She cradled the sweaty shirt

against her chest like it was the Hope Diamond.

Enough was enough. I snarled, “Table. Now. Or I will arrest you.”

“Fine. There’s no reason to be rude.” With that oh-so-cutting remark, off Terie

went. Step. Hop. Step. Hop. She kind of reminded me of a crazed jackrabbit.

I glanced up at the stage and did a double take. Fabian and the pirates now wore

G-strings and boots. Gotta say, pretty damned hot.

Screams erupted.

Oh, dear God, now what? I hurried toward the screaming.


“Give it to me.” A wizened woman in a motorized wheelchair had a death grip on

the red satin shirt. The loose skin on her arms shook like gelatin as she struggled for

possession of the shirt.

Wobbling off balance, Terie, the love-struck bimbo, wrenched back with all her

might. “It’s mine. Let go.”

“No!” the old woman shouted, putting her wheelchair in reverse.

Great. Just what I needed. A tug-of-war over the freakin’ shirt.

The sleeve tore off in the elderly woman’s hands. Cackling madly, she

zoomed off in her wheelchair.

A heavyset granny wearing way too much makeup grabbed what was left of the

shirt from Terie and ran for the exit.

A tattooed teenager tackled granny. In a tangle of arms and legs, they rolled

around and around on the floor, fighting over the shirt.

Terie jumped on top of the combatants and began whacking the living hell out of

them with her broken stiletto. “Give it back. Give it back.”

Ten dollars an hour wasn’t enough to put up with this shit. “
Illo scutella
.” A small

cloud of magical mace engulfed them.

Screeching in pain, they broke apart and rubbed frantically at their burning eyes.

I picked up the mangled shirt. “Get. Out. Now.”

“Look! That guard has Fabian’s shirt!” someone shouted.

Dozens of avid gazes locked on the red satin shirt.

“Oh crap.” I took a step back.

It was like some switch got flipped. The crazed fans went after the shirt like a pack

of starving hyenas.

“Ooooof!” A head slammed into my stomach. Arms wrapped around my legs and

bam! I was on the floor and about a zillion women jumped on top of me. Now I knew


how a quarterback felt when he got sacked. It totally sucked. I shoved my way out from

under the pile of cursing, struggling women.

Females were definitely meaner than men. I crawled over to the corner and leaned

against the wall, waiting for the funny black spots to disappear from my vision. Once I

could see again, I took inventory of the damages. My uniform shirt was torn in three

places. The mole was now stuck up my nose. The antennae twitched with every breath I

took. I touched my rapidly swelling right eye and groaned. Great. I was going to have a

nice shiner in the morning.

That was when I noticed the other security guards were hiding behind the bar.

The bartender was filming the melee with his cell phone.

A knockdown, drag-out brawl didn’t even begin to describe the carnage. Beer

bottles, chairs, and drink glasses flew in every direction. Fabian and the dancers were

long gone. Smart move.

The doors to the showroom burst open, and cops in riot gear charged in. Yippee.

Better late than never. I let out a long sigh. Time for more surveillance. Didn’t that

sound fun?


Chapter Two

After the show all the Perfect Girl’s Night Out dancers were required to spend

time at Dante’s Inferno, a Latin nightclub. They had to mingle and dance with their

horny fans.

Wearing a red wig, fat suit, and a long putrid-green handkerchief dress, I plunked

myself down at the bar and ordered a soda.

Fabian and the other dancers were surrounded by a group of giggly women who

didn’t see anything wrong with grabbing the dancers’ butts or stuffing dollar bills

down their pants.

You’d think a gigolo would enjoy the attention, but Fabian looked seriously

pissed. Maybe it was because none of the ladies were over sixty.

The DJ announced, “Next up is the Best Tango Contest. The first dancer is Fabian.

Who will he pick to dance with him?”

Fabian’s fans squealed in excitement, and several dozen voices yelled, “Me! Pick

me! Pick me!”

A spotlight roamed over the crowd. The DJ asked, “Will it be the smoking-hot

blonde in the red dress?”

The blonde thrust out her considerable cleavage and licked her lips suggestively.

“Or maybe the plus-size model in the thrift-store dress. “

The light fell on me. Oh, hell no.

The other women laughed and jeered.

Nice bunch. Wonder how they would feel about being turned into a flock of

squawking chickens? Pissing off a psychic with magical abilities was never a good idea.


Fabian surveyed the crowd.

The women held their collective breaths.

His brooding amber eyes settled on me.

Horror knotted my stomach. There was no way in hell he’d pick me. Was there?

Fabian sauntered toward me.

I grabbed my soda, wishing it was something a little stronger. My girly parts

wanted to do the horizontal mambo with Fabian, but I wasn’t sure if my disguise would

pass muster. I had slapped it on a bit hastily. Wouldn’t do for pieces of my face to start

falling off.

Fabian held out his hand. “Dance with me.”

I choked on my drink. His voice alone was enough to make a girl come. “Me? You

wanna dance with me?”

The man-whore gave me a seductive smile and laid on the Italian accent. “

amore mio

I sighed. Damn. Talk about animal magnetism. Fabian had it in spades. All I

wanted to do was wrap my legs around him and fuck him blind. But that wasn’t going

to happen. Pity. “Oh. Well. I’m honored, but I’m not a very good dancer, and you

should—” I yelped when he scooped me off the bar stool and carried me to the dance

floor. “Really. This is
a good idea.”

Fabian slowly slid me down his taut body, letting me feel every delicious muscle.

“A beautiful woman should dance the tango at least once.” He took my hand.

I gasped as an electric spark leaped between us. What the hell?

Fabian flinched, dropped my hand, and gave me a strange look.

“Sorry, I’m full of static electricity tonight. Must be the weather.”

“Si, love is in the air.”

“Are you drunk?”

“Drunk on your beauty.”


The man was in serious need of some glasses. I mean, how could he miss the

hideous wart on my chin? “Uh, okay.”

The music started. Fabian circled me like I was his prey and he wanted to eat

every inch of me.

One look at his smoldering gaze. Shazam! He had me. My nipples hardened. My

pussy clenched. Wait a minute. It was almost magical. Nah. He was a normal. Wasn’t

he? Better to be safe than sorry. I was very good at sleight of hand and quickly planted a

tracker under his belt.

Seizing my right hand, Fabian spun me around him and pulled me into a tight

embrace. His lips brushed mine.

I jerked away.

He jerked me back, sliding his leg between mine.

Fuck. Had he noticed my panties were wet?

His large hands skimmed down my back, grabbed my hips, and up I went.

“No! No! No! Bad idea.” Did that stop him? Hell no.

Fabian twirled me around his shoulders.

The padding around my right leg flew off. It smacked the waitress in the

back of the head. She staggered forward, spilling her tray of drinks all over the

smoking-hot blonde and her jeering friends.

They screeched like scalded cats.

The man-whore lowered me until our lips met. “Why are you wearing this ugly


“I happen to like my dress,” I huffed.

Fabian dropped me to the floor and spun me around him. “I love a good


“How nice for you.” I stumbled as the padding on my left leg fell down around

my ankle. Desperate to get rid of it, I latched onto Fabian’s shoulders and kicked. The


padding shot across the dance floor like a heat-seeking missile, right under the hot

blonde’s feet.

She tripped and fell face-first into a skinny dude’s lap.

The skinny dude grinned in delight.

I broke free and made a run for it.

“We haven’t finished our dance yet.” Yanking me back, Fabian promenaded me

across the dance floor, spinning me this way and that.

My eyes narrowed. He wanted to dance? Game on. Step. Step. Kick.

Fabian pivoted at the last moment, and my foot missed his groin.

I scowled.

An amused smile curved Fabian’s mouth. He dipped me and rained kisses up my


My brain turned to mush and my body caught fire.

“You fucking bitch, get away from my husband.”

Huh? I turned my head and saw Terie, the love-struck bimbo, charging across the

dance floor. “You better let me go.”

Fabian shot me between his legs.

I skidded across the dance floor and watched Terie climb him like a tree. Time to

leave before I made a fool of myself. I headed for the door.

“You bastard! I want a divorce,” Terie screamed.

Fabian rubbed his face and watched her storm off.

“Ain’t love grand?”

As if he had heard me, Fabian turned toward me.

Throwing him an air-kiss, I quickly chanted a “nobody’s there” illusion spell and

poof. I was invisible. Only a powerful witch could see me. I hurried out.


The street was lined with stretch limos, taxis, and luxury vehicles. The door to a

classic black Rolls was abruptly thrown open.

I dodged to the left to miss it.

A huge mountain of a man stepped out.

A gasp escaped me. Sergei. One of the Dragos clan’s deadliest enforcers. Once a

hunter put you in his crosshairs there was no escape. I scooted into the shadows. What

was he doing here? And why hadn’t my psychic radar warned me about him?

Sergei carefully surveyed the street and raised a cell phone to his ear. “I don’t see

her. You think she’s a Vizzini spy?” He nodded. “Will do. I’ll take care of the woman,

but you need to get that ring tonight. We’re running out of time.” Sergei frowned.

“Relax. Your little spy won’t get far.”

Okay, I might belong to the Vizzini clan, but I wasn’t a spy. I was the competition.

The only one not going anywhere was him. I pulled a tranquilizer gun from my thigh

holster and fired. The dart hit Sergei dead in the chest.

He yanked the dart out and sneered. “This toy won’t work on me. I. Am. Dragos.”

What a dumb ass. I shot him again.

His eyes rolled back in his head, and down he went.

Tacitos obturo
.” With a loud bang, all the tires on the limo went flat. God, I loved

that spell.

The limo driver jumped out armed with a Glock.

I shot him too.

He crumpled to the asphalt.

“It’s been fun playing with you boys.” I got into an old battered van, grabbed my

laptop off the passenger seat, and typed in the password. The bug I planted on Fabian

was operational. What naughty things did Fabian have planned tonight?

Speak of the devil. Out walked the bad boy. He came to an abrupt halt when he

BOOK: Catching Dragos
2.15Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

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