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The Silver Cross
There are two things Boston detective Lacey Gardner knows about killing
vampires. Slicing off a head or a hit directly to the heart are the only
surefire ways to kill one. Silver is their Achilles heel. A vampire
never wears silver.When she meets bartender extraordinaire, Damon Harte, her heart does a quickstep for the dark hunky guy. She's learned the hard way that having a love interest in her line of work can be heart-wrenching. She's kept to herself for years, but something about Damon captivates her and draws her to him. When she learns Damon's devastating secret, she knows what she has to do: kill the man who has stolen her heart.
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Excerpt:
Present day Boston
Nic Stannic slid through the throngs of people like water flowing downhill. He was a handsome man, taller than average, with broad shoulders and a narrow waist that attracted more than a few casual looks from the women on this level of the club. He walked as if they existed for his pleasure alone, constantly looking, judging, and dismissing as he made his way past them.
More than once he was met with a suggestive look or the brush of a friendly hand, but none of the females were what he was looking for this night. As he made his way to the edge of the balcony, a young woman stepped up and smiled provocatively. Her hair was long and dark, hanging over a loose halter of near-sheer silk that barely covered her bronzed-to-perfection breasts. Nic looked her up and down, admiring her long, sleek legs that disappeared beneath a short skirt of some animal pattern he didn’t recognize. Her midriff was bare and toned, with just the right amount of muscle to accentuate her feminine sexuality. She was beautiful, and a temptress, judging by the way she was prancing in front of him.
He’d been looking for quite awhile tonight, and thought that he had found the one he’d been searching for. As she moved closer, he caught the smell of alcohol on her breath and saw a slight distortion in her eyes, which spoke volumes about the amount of liquor she had consumed. That would not due. He shook his head slightly, smiling sadly, and stepped around her. She pursed her pouty lips and sighed deeply in disappointment in a last attempt at attracting him, but he had other ideas and walked on.
When he reached the balcony’s edge, he leaned over the balustrade and let the music wash over him. It was intoxicating, and he enjoyed the captivating rhythm as he watched the undulating sea of half-naked bodies dancing below him. The club was crowded tonight. The dancers moved in intricate shows of sensuality; their bodies flowing with invitation and glistening in promise. Their casual touches and subtle caresses promised a night full of passion and pleasure. The rush and excitement of this erotic interplay filled the atmosphere with an exhilarating mix of sexual anticipation and need. Nic watched and breathed it all in deeply.
The nightclub was decorated in the latest nouveau fashion, with chrome stretching from ceiling to floor. Gigantic speakers blasted music nonstop all night long. Lights were hung around the perimeter of the ceiling, strategically placed and focused to highlight the club’s raised DJ platform and the large, centered dance floor. Two bars positioned on either side of the dance floor were constantly queued with clientele waiting to be served. The bartenders gave shows of their own as they swirled and tossed the many bottles used in mixing all manner of exotic drinks. The overflowing tip jars were a testament to their showmanship.
The balcony Nic stood on surrounded three-quarters of the dance floor and gave an unobstructed, panoramic view of the dancers and patrons below. The club was a bastion of Boston’s nightlife and a magnet for the young, beautiful, rich, and pretentious alike.
It was the perfect hunting ground.
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