Free Mercer's Siren by Mina Carter, J.William Mitchell Page B

chocolate and silk cascading in riotous waves past her shoulders contrasting with the fairness of her creamy skin. The former invited him to run his fingers through them, the latter tempted him to caress. She had a face that belonged in magazines and could have a love affair with any camera, a perfect nose, high cheekbones, and plump lips made for kissing.
    But goddamn! Her eyes caught and held his attention the most. Okay, sure, if he had to be really truly honest then yeah he didn’t miss the way her blouse stretched across her chest. Tiny as she was, she was generously proportioned without going overboard and he was a guy after all. But setting that aside, the smoky gray pools seemed to hold beguiling mystery as the wicked tilt of her peepers made him think of things as naughty as sin.
    If everything suddenly ran in slow motion, wind coming from nowhere to gather up her hair and doves aloft and flapping their wings all around the as a chorus of angels sang in majestic Hallelujah, Garrett was sure he’d be gobsmacked with her glory. Considering he was suffering the mother of all hangovers following the epic night before, that said a lot.
    She sighed, the breath in further tightening her top over her considerable assets, and looked at him directly. “How much did you drink last night?”
    “Gee, straight to the tough questions there. Lemme see…” He scratched his head as he thought for a moment but quickly shook his head. He immediately regretted that and winced his displeasure. “Shit. Okay, it's not good if you can’t remember, right? Hell, I dunno. I can picture a couple of wise guys trying to drink me under the table, a hot blonde, a rigged game of Texas Hold ‘em and lots of shouting, pain, punches thrown…”
    He grinned at her. “Yeah, I guess it was an epic night. Shame I can’t remember most of it.” He lifted his shirt and winced, looking down at some of the bruises on his abdomen. “I did what I could with the worst bits of me last night. I didn’t wanna bleed all over the clean floor, but I was too tired and hammered to do most of anything else, so I took a little nap. There are better ways of waking up, but honey, I’d be happy to open my eyes to your dazzling face every day.”
    Her eyebrow lifted as she walked around the bed. While he was distracted with that, she put a small hand on his shoulder and shoved him flat on the bed. Neatly, she grabbed his ankles and swung his feet up at the same time. He fell backward with a yelp, wholly unprepared for the slick move.
    “Damn, you move fast, gorgeous,” he exclaimed. “You got me flat on my back in a blink and I don’t even know your name yet.”
    “To you, it’s Red.” She put a hand on his chest when he made to get up, and there was no arguing. He lay back, watching her as she studied the screen at the top of the bed. She was beautiful when she concentrated. “Right, handsome, you’re packing a dangerous blood-alcohol level for a human. I’m just gonna get you something for that.”
    “A full body massage, coffee, and breakfast?”
    “Oh, I have something far more efficient.” Her lips curved into a slow smile and suddenly Garrett felt a shiver go down his spine. His spidey sense tingled and from the expression on her face as she turned toward the prescription locker. He knew she was up to no good. When she turned with a small ampoule of DShP, his suspicions were confirmed.
    “Aww hell…” he groaned. DShP, better known as “The Zinger,” was a drug that almost turned hungover zombies into people, neutralizing most effects of overindulgence of alcohol. The problem was a small percentage of the population had varying kinds of reactions to it. Nothing lethal, but some suffered nothing more than hives while others felt like they were going to experience explosive diarrhea.
    She looked a bit amused at his reaction to her treatment option. “That’s funny. Your records state you’re not allergic to Zingers.”
    “No, I’m