Bloody Moonlight 1: Vampire Paranormal Romance by Becca Fanning

Author:Becca Fanning [Fanning, Becca]
Language: eng
Format: epub

Chapter 8

“Special delivery!” It was a UPS delivery guy, the same one from the other day, with short shorts and tats. What were the odds, I wondered. He stared at his clipboard, package under the other arm, and peered from the clipboard and back to me again. “You Stacey?”

“You delivery man?” I asked, in a caveman voice.

He did not seem amused. He slammed the box on the desk and shoved the clipboard at me, then shook his head as he walked away.

“Ooooh,” Gabriel said. “Lookit that. Someone’s got a package. Could be a secret admirer? What’s the label say?”

“It doesn’t say who it’s from,” I said. I grabbed an ink pen to cut the tape, watched as the ballpoint broke, and then used my house key to undo the packing tape.

“The tension is killing me,” Gabe said.

“I’m really hoping this is something from a man,” I said, shaking the box. The inner cardboard was slowly sliding out. “I met somebody the other night. I thought we had a great connection, and I—“

The inner box fell to the desk with a splat. Droplets of red liquid trailed down from the lid.

“Oh, that’s nasty,” Gabe said, making an excited face. “Open that.”

“No,” I said. “I’m not touching this.”

“What if it’s some kind of strawberry gelatin dessert and whoever wrapped it is an idiot?”

“No, you do it,” I said. “I don’t think I’m going to like this.”

“I’m not touching it.”

“You’re my assistant.”

“I’ve been here longer than you,” Gabe said. “Seniority trumps position.”

“You’re a man. Men can handle messes better than women.”

“Honey, no. I wear a dress each weekend to the gay bar and dance for singles. I’m an underpaid hooker. That’s my gender identity.”

“We open it together,” I said. I grabbed his hand, and he squealed as I put it on the box. “On three, okay… one… two… three—“

We both grabbed an edge and tugged. The bottom of the box fell with a splat.

“Oh My God,” Gabriel screamed.

“It has to be that freak Sal,” I screamed. “There’s no way this is happening!”

“I think it is happening, and it happened here, in your office and mine, and I think that some of it has spilled onto my side of the desk,” Gabriel said. “I am telling you right now I’m not paid enough to clean this up, so you’re going to go get some paper towels and hose down this crime scene.”

We stared at it—a huge, oozing, fresh beef heart in a white gift box, a puddle of fluids all around it. Someone in an inexpert hand had drawn “Back off and forget all about it!” on the back lid in black sharpie.

“I don’t know who you pissed off, but they seem pretty crazy,” Gabriel said.

“That seems like an understatement,” I said. “Oh my God, I don’t want to touch this.”

“There’s rubber gloves under the sink in the staff kitchen,” Gabriel said.

“Ugh,” I said.

The gift box and beef heart were dumped into a plastic trash bag, triple-wrapped, and tied. I used bleach disinfectant spray on the counter and the floor and burnt some incense to drive away the awful odor.

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