A Venetian Vampire by Michele Hauf

Author:Michele Hauf
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2016-08-02T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 11

After shutting off the shower, Kyler heard her phone ring. She stepped out of the tub, dripping onto the rug, and picked up the cell phone tucked in the pocket of her folded pants. It was King.

“You are still in Venice,” he said. A statement, not a question.

She pulled the bathroom door open an inch. Dante had gone down to collect the paper, he’d said as she’d gone in to take a shower, and she could find him out on the patio.

“I’ve been waiting for your call,” she said. “For the handoff?”

“Right. But did you actually steal the egg?”

“Uh, yes? Hasn’t it been on the news in Paris? You sound as though you don’t believe I actually went through with it. I told you I could do it, and I did.”

“I never doubted you, Kyler. I’ve had some issues with the party I was going to have you hand the egg over to. Can you bring it to Paris?”

“Yes. But I’m not sure I can get out of the city today. They have increased security at the docks.”

“Is that so?”

He didn’t sound convinced. A heavy sigh preceded, “Don’t take your eyes off that thing, Kyler. It means the world to me.”

“I know that. Don’t worry, I—” Dare she ask him for the truth? If he was really a vampire hunter?

“You’ve proven exceedingly skillful,” he said. “I trust you. You’ve my number now. Text me when you’ve left Venice.”

“I—”

The phone clicked off, and she almost dropped it. While King was a stern man of few words that meant volumes, she suddenly felt as though he had assigned her to do this, and if she failed he would punish her. Weird.

If Dante were right about King being a vampire hunter, what had she gotten herself into? She could hardly walk up to King now, hand over the egg and not expect a stake to the heart. Had she signed her own death warrant the moment she’d looked into the man’s big brown eyes and asked him for vampirism? He could have been plotting for her to be his instrument of acquisition the moment she’d told him she was a thief.

The more she thought about it, she realized it was feasible.

Had she been that stupid?

Tugging on her pants and a blue top she’d hastily shoved in the backpack, Kyler then pulled out her makeup case and drew on eyeliner. No blush necessary. When she’d finished her lips, she straightened the bathroom a bit because she didn’t like to leave behind clutter.

Of course she’d head back to Paris. It was where she lived. If not, King would find her.

She had to go to him and learn the truth. But could she do that by herself?

* * *

A fine mist dusted Dante’s bare shoulder. He reclined on a wicker chair on the narrow patio with his bare feet up on the wrought iron railing. The local newspaper lay unopened on the small round iron tabletop. Pale green paint flaked from the railing and into the canal.

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