Free Just One Bite by Kimberly Raye Page A

sex. He would be eternally grateful to me and I would never have to worry about being an SOB target ever again.
    I held tight to the slim possibility and smiled. “How would you like to meet him later tonight?”

Nine

    I spent the next half hour giving Carmen a few dating dos and don’ts and battling my own conscience.
    I know, right?
    Super vamps didn’t usually get caught in the sticky details of right versus wrong. We’re creatures of greed and lust and instant gratification. What can I say? I was cursed at birth. I kept picturing Little Red Riding Hood (or in Carmen’s case, Little Blond Riding Hood with natural boobs and a wholesome spirit) getting dismembered by the Big Bad SOB.
    All thanks to moi.
    At the same time, there was always a chance (however teeny tiny) that they could fall madly, passionately in love. And who was I to stand in the way of true love? As a matchmaker, I’d pledged my afterlife to helping lost lonely souls find their One and Only (for a fee, of course, but that’s beside the point). I would never be able to sleep during the day if I deprived even one individual—vamp, human or Other—at a chance at happily-ever-after.
    Besides, Vinnie was a Sniper of Otherworldly Beings, meaning his handiwork was limited to Others, and so I felt certain that Carmen wasn’t in any physical danger.
    I made a mental note to look up the SOB handbook online—dontcha just love the Internet?—just to make sure there was a little rule in there about the non-dismemberment of humans. In the meantime, I fished a can of Mace from my bottom drawer (Evie had bought us both cans of the stuff after watching an America’s Most Wanted episode that featured a serial rapist from Manhattan) and handed it to Carmen.
    “What’s this for?”
    “Some businesses give out matchbooks, we give out Mace. Just in case someone grabs you in an alley, or a cab driver turns out to be a crazed kidnapper, or Mr. Right morphs into Mr. Slice-and-Dice. Not that any of that is going to happen,” I rushed on. “It’s strictly a promo item.”
    She eyed the silver can. “But there’s no DED written anywhere on here.”
    “True, but it’s the thought that counts. When you whip that baby out, you’ll think about how much DED cares about you.”
    That, or what a lunatic I was.
    While Carmen gave me an odd look and pocketed the Mace, I made a reservation at Pollo Loco, the hottest, trendiest, busiest restaurant in SoHo. The plan? For Carmen to meet Vinnie in an hour for drinks and appetizers and, hopefully, some major fireworks when she looked at him and he looked at her and…well, you know.
    I crossed my fingers, gave Carmen cab fare and a reassuring smile, and watched her leave. After sending up a silent prayer to the BVU (Big Vamp Upstairs), I walked into the outer office to beg Evie’s forgiveness for sticking her with Earl.
    She wasn’t at her desk. Her computer was off, her paperwork cleared. The door to room A stood wide open and empty.
    Apparently, she and Earl had bailed while I’d been with Carmen.
    The smell, unfortunately, hadn’t.
    Thankfully Evie bought bulk for the small votive holders we had situated around the office. I unearthed a box of candles and spread them throughout the room. I’d just finished lighting number twenty when the bell on the door trembled and my next appointment walked in.
    She had long, jet black hair, pitch-black eye shadow and bright red lips. She wore a black leather tank top, ripped jeans, and black biker boots. The sharp smell of rubbing alcohol and ink clung to her. Understandable. With the exception of her face, there wasn’t a visible area of her body that wasn’t tattooed.
    She had a purple snake that started just under her jawline and curled down around her neck. A bright pink flamingo wrapped around her right bicep. A black and white shaded portrait of Janis Joplin hugged the other. A leopard print dotted her right arm from elbow to wrist, while Betty Boop perched on the left.