Mistake Of A Lifetime

He's stalking me.

Rachel realized with a start as she looked out onto the crowded dance floor. She knew exactly who it was, because she'd seen his face all day. He was beautiful, too beautiful to be an assassin though apparently no one had ever given him the memo. He was over six feet tall, with a thick pelt of wavy blonde hair and a chiseled face that screamed passion. His full lips were set into a neutral frown and had been the entire day. He was good looking and she knew he'd been struggling to be non-descript and forgettable.

Too bad for him.

He'd followed her everywhere that day, and vaguely she thought back and realized she'd seen him earlier in the week too.

Definitely an assassin.

He was good at it, always staying far enough back to not look like he was hunting her, but close enough to be within reach. She supposed if she wasn't hypersensitive, like all vampires, she'd have never kept track. But now, on this Friday night as she hunted her next feeding, she knew the game was on.

She sat at the club, making no movement to leave the private booth she was in except to hand the waitress another stack of cash every hour or so. She waited until his purposely bland visage began to show strain and annoyance, then she stood up quickly and disappeared. She knew he'd lose track of her as she stepped behind a group of frat boys and he did and she managed to leave the club and retrieve her car from the valet before his pretty face appeared outside. She watched his face as she drove away and giggled at the suspicious fury there.

Oh, he's good.

He managed to retrieve his car from the valet and catch up to her without drawing too much attention to himself, and she found herself varying her speed. He'd match it, but was scrambling when she sped away. Her flashy Mercedes AMG had a lot to do with that, and as they got closer to her mansion she took a quick sideroad and laughed when his rental darted past the turn.

Rachel managed to get to her mansion well before the assassin did, and she left the car sitting prominently out front. She knew he'd jump the gates and have to enter her property by foot, thanks to the high walls and heavy gates, so she buried herself in what shadows she could manage on the far side of the home. The bright, full moon made that more difficult than she expected, but she managed.

He surprised her by coming from the rear of the house, staying neatly to the shadows. He was definitely human, and she knew who sent him.

That silly bastard.

A local Mafioso type had been warned in no uncertain terms that she would not, in fact, sell a piece of property downtown that she owned. He then torched it, not that she cared because the insurance covered it, but when he had come around the day after the fire and expressed his condolences, she'd physically thrown him out of her office. It was one of the rare times she'd let her vampire strength show, and she supposed it was heavy handed but obviously quite effective, if the assassin's presence was any indication.

He had pulled a ski mask down over his head, covering that glorious mane of hair, and he crept carefully through the yard, his small silenced pistol drawn and ready. She considered her plan of attack. He was broad shouldered and muscular, and he carried himself with a certain springy grace that told her he was a fighter. Which discipline, she didn't know or care, but she assumed it'd make things a lot harder. So she waited patiently in her spot until he almost silently moved past her, and then she leapt out.

She wasn't completely surprised when he heard her movement and spun, but she was surprised when he didn't reflexively shoot. She landed hard across his back, wrapping her legs around his torso and her arms around his neck, putting him into a solid sleeper hold. Her assumptions on his fighting skills were correct and he barely managed to slide a hand into the crook of her elbow before her grip locked. Her fangs popped out and she growled savagely in his ear.

"Who sent you?" Trick question, but he didn't know that. Her growl was known to make grown men quiver but this stud had no obvious reaction of fear. Instead, he lifted the gun and fired towards where he assumed her head was, and she felt her excitement grow when she had to dodge the muzzle. She let him get off two rounds before she snatched the gun from his hands, tearing his glove off in the process. He gasped, and then she

was

surprised when his hand tucked away in her elbow yanked at her arm and she went flying.

Artfully she landed on her feet and turned to face him, but he had disappeared. Faintly she heard light footsteps on the gravel drive and she knew he was escaping his botched job. She was still hungry, however, and she bolted after him.

For a human, he was fast, and he was just barely within reach of leaping onto the high wall when she caught him again. She slammed him hard into the solid wall then flipped him back into the yard.

"Fuck!" His fear betrayed him and he stumbled to the ground to land on his face. She went after him, her fangs completely extended and her mouth open in a savage snarl. She snatched him over, and as his eyes locked with hers several bullets ripped through her chest. The noise was loud in her sensitive ears and she was thrown off-balance by the sudden shock. With a small cry she fell to the ground, her body beginning to heal already. It was precious time lost, because as she attempted to recover he had scrambled to his feet and was already at the top of the wall.

She hated getting shot. Not that anyone liked it, to be sure. It wasn't a pleasant experience, especially when the shots were at close range. Bullets tore and tumbled and exploded and it made her powerful flesh work that much harder to recover. It also hurt, and though she'd been through plenty of pain, it wasn't something she actively sought out. And so as she fought to get to her feet and trotted after him, she swore this was one human who wouldn't get away.

Rachel managed to leap to the top of the wall just as the assassin drove by. Their eyes locked again and he punched the accelerator harder. She didn't bother looking for a tag, it wouldn't lead back to him. Instead she dropped back down to the ground, crumpling into a pile and gasping for air as she healed. She was incredibly furious. Who was this human, this assassin that had gotten the better of her? Were her skills lacking, was she so out of practice that a mere mortal could best her? Or was he just that good? It was something to ponder, and once she felt strong enough she stood up and slowly wandered to her car. He was a loose end that she needed to tie up.

As she headed back into the city, she was deep in thought. She followed the faint trace of his scent, admiring how his adrenaline smelled delicious. Maybe it was his deodorant, maybe it was his cologne, but it had mixed with his natural smell and her mouth watered. Other parts of her were also engaged, but she ignored those parts. She'd find someone else to fuck after she handled this situation.

Kimber slammed the door to the ridiculous little motel room he was staying in and let loose with a string of profanities. His tirade ended in a sob and he sat down quickly on the bed and rested his head in his hands. All he could think about was his little sister and the terror in her pretty face when Mauricio had snatched her away. This was supposed to be the job that got Katie away from him and off the streets, and instead it had turned into an epic nightmare.

What the fuck was that? What was she on?

His target had been a petite, delicate framed woman with blonde hair down to her ass. It seemed simple enough to follow her around, learn her habits, then sneak himself into that big mansion on the hill she owned and put two in the back of her head. He didn't like killing women, but he'd do anything for his baby sister. She was all he had left of his awful childhood, they were both products of drug addled parents and he needed her to be okay. The terrible things he knew the family would do to her if they found out he'd failed made him violently nauseous and he scrambled for the bathroom.

As he wiped his mouth, he heard the cheap prepaid cell phone ringing in the other room and he scrambled for it. Apparently it had been ringing while the water was on and it went to voicemail before he could answer. He recognized the number immediately and screamed as he punched the headboard. "Fuck!" It had been his employer, and he knew that by not checking in as he was supposed to, they were assuming he failed.

"Shit!" He struggled to avoid completely losing his mind and flipped the phone open to dial. The power to the building was suddenly cut and he stared at the lit phone in darkness. A feeling crept over him and he snatched up his spare pistol from the bed where he'd set it, quickly fishing the silencer from his pocket. As he swiftly screwed it into place, he peeked out of the window and saw the shiny silver Mercedes outside and it surprised him.

What's she doing here?

He didn't have much time to ponder it, because the door suddenly shattered open and she stood in the doorway. Reflexively he fired, struggling to track her movements like he normally did. She moved so fast, she had to be on something, and he braced himself even as he fired for her to jump at him. She did, and he caught her before throwing her down on the bed. He growled when she snatched the pistol out of his hands in the process, before landing with a bounce on the bed. She artfully leapt off, pistol in her obviously very capable hands, but she didn't draw on him.

"Who are you?"

Her voice was beautiful, if a little rusty, but deep and it didn't match her appearance. Kimber stared at her in confusion, bracing himself.

"Why are you asking?" He was proud that he sounded calm.

She smiled, her teeth beautifully white in the emergency lights that had finally kicked on. There was no trace of what he was sure had been fangs earlier and she looked at him with amusement. "I'm asking because I want to know how you came to be so skilled, and why you're coming after me."

"You do know that's not how assassin hits work, right? Someone pays someone else who is talented in the art of murder to kill someone, and the target never finds out who wanted them dead."

His voice was dry, if mildly fearful, but she sensed he had bigger problems than her. Rachel was even more intrigued by this human. "I do know how it works, but I also know how my life works. You are not the first person sent to kill me or the first person who has tried to kill me, and you won't be the last in either case. Normally I viciously torture the assassins before killing them slowly, but I've always had a thing for humans who could kick my ass. Now, I'll ask again before I get violent. Who sent you, and who are you?"

He studied her face, his mind in a whirl. He knew Mauricio's men weren't far away, especially if he missed the confirmation call. He didn't have time to argue with this woman and maybe if he placated her, he could escape and still manage to save Katie.

"My name is Kimber Johnson, and Mauricio sent me. He's apparently very angry about the threat you made against him, and he really wants that building downtown, for whatever reason."

She looked at him quizzically. "Kimber? What, were they expecting you to be a girl?"

He glared and crossed his arms over his chest. "No. They liked the brand of gun."

On a whim Rachel looked down at the battered, compact .45 she held in her hand and sure enough, it was a Kimber. "Huh. Why are you working for Mauricio?"

"Why does anyone work for anyone? They need cash."

His shuttered expression was a neat trick, but she knew better. "People don't usually join up with the mob because they need a job. With your skills and looks, you could be fighting in UFC or modeling. So cut the shit and tell me the truth."

He knew they were running out of time and it made him fidget with nervous energy. "I've always worked for the mob, since I was 14. I grew up fighting, got into a few gyms to hone my skills, but I preferred this line of work. I'm working for Mauricio because he snatched my baby sister. Killing you was supposed to win her freedom."

His tone had started out tough, but as soon as he spoke of his sister, a gentleness and sorrow came into his voice and Rachel knew she was a sucker. She stared hard at him before a pair of cars pulled into the parking lot. Kimber's eyes grew wide and he snuck a quick peek out of the window. "Shit, that's them." He'd recognize those large, classic Cadillacs anywhere, as well as the four men in suits who stepped out of them. Panic rose up in his chest and he struggled.

"Look, we gotta get out of here. Mauricio sent a handful of men to kill me, and then he's going to whore out my sister and do God knows whatever else." He was babbling and knew it and couldn't care. She was looking at him with a surprised, wary expression and he took a step towards her.

"Help me get my sister, and I won't even care what you do. I just need to get Katie away from the mob."

Rachel couldn't believe her ears, but sure enough, it was her voice saying those words. "All right, fine, keep your pants on." She paused, made sure she'd really said it, then nodded sagely. "And get down. Maybe cover your eyes. This is going to get kind of messy."

She didn't watch him to make sure he complied, as it wasn't her top priority. She simply shot out the couple of dim emergency lights in the room and dropped the gun next to him, then stood against the wall across from the door in the shadows. Her fangs extended and her claws lengthened and she waited for them to creep closer.

Kimber did duck, as suggested, and he picked up the gun she dropped near him, but he didn't hide his face. He instead watched in horror as the nails on her hands suddenly grew, turning into downright vicious, cat-like claws. The men ducked inside and everything happened so quickly he wasn't completely sure it had happened. Limbs were detached, arterial blood sprayed, and within moments the four hulks were spread out around the room. Well, three of them at least. The fourth she held in her hands, her head buried against his neck and he twitched weakly until she dropped him to the floor in a saggy heap. She turned to him and in the faint light from outside he saw bloody fangs and a gory mouth. Her eyes burned into his for a second, then she disappeared to the bathroom and he heard water running.

She came out, having cleaned up, and extended a hand to him. "Let's go." Her nails were back to normal, if a little ragged as if they'd recently been filed down for acrylics, but otherwise safe to touch. Kimber stared at the hand, still a little in shock.

"Look, we can talk about what you just saw in the car. We need to get the fuck out of here. Grab what you need and let's go, or I'll leave you here for the cops."

Her tone was rough and he jumped up, snatching up the bag he always kept ready and tossing a few pieces of gear into another bag. He followed her downstairs, where she opened the passenger door for him. He paused for a brief second before sliding inside and settling on the expensive leather, tucking his stuff at his feet. She got in, started the car, and as they pulled out of the parking lot and onto the main road several cop cars were pulling in from the opposite direction.

"Who and what are you?"

"You didn't wait long. We're barely a mile from the motel." Her voice was amused and he struggled to not take offense.

"Yeah, well, I just watched a woman barely bigger than my dick take down guys three times her size. Oh, and I also watched you drink the blood of one of them, with your fangs and nails and whatever. I'm a little fucking freaked out and some answers would be fucking great right now."

He wanted a cigarette, desperately, but didn't dare smoke in this car. It was worth more than he made in a year, or maybe had made in his entire life. His hands shook and he clenched them into fists against his thighs, taking deep breaths to soothe his nerves.

"My name is Rachel. You can relax, I'm not going to kill you." She steadied the wheel on her knees and fumbled in the center console. He was surprised when she pulled out a pack of Camels, even more shocked when she offered him one after taking one for herself. With a gentle flick, she cracked the windows and lit her own smoke before handing him the lighter.

At his startled expression she smiled and took a drag. "I'm vampire. I'm not exactly going to die from lung cancer, and I get the car detailed often enough to keep it clean, not that I chain smoke anyway."

Kimber hated how his hands shook, even two puffs into the cig. "I don't understand. You were in sunlight. You hit an Italian restaurant for lunch today. You're supposed to be a fucking fairy tale."

"Yeah, I get that a lot. Look, forget everything you've ever heard about my kind, assume it was all wrong. Most of it was, and it's wrong on purpose. We had to leak rumors and lies so that we could hide more easily." She inhaled again, holding the smoke in for a moment before slowly exhaling towards the window and he stared in disbelief.

"So what's the truth?"

She flashed him a glance before shrugging. "We're just like humans, except stronger and mostly immortal and we have to drink blood to survive."

"So you're like a parasite." His voice was wavering and he was still incredibly nervous. The adrenaline was still coursing through his body and he dropped hot ashes in his lap. "Shit! Fuck!"

Rachel swallowed a laugh and tucked the cigarette in the corner of her mouth as she shifted position. "I'm as much of a parasite as humanity. We're all just here, feeding on the planet and taking more than we give. We're an evolution, we think, though maybe there's more to it. Our researchers are less motivated to explore our origins than the human equivalent. We're immortal, we have all the time in the world."

"Do you have any weaknesses?" He was still shivering and she nodded.

"We do. You can kill us by beheading, and there's also a handful of ancient poisons that can be acquired, but not usually by humans. You can't really kill us by bleeding us out, and depending on the age and feeding schedule, you may or may not be able to kill us with blunt force trauma. A lot of it, like being smashed between two semis or something. Again, our researchers aren't really driven to discover things about us. I'm going off what I've experienced personally."

The calmness in her voice soothed him and he took another drag. "So, you've been shot before, then."

She grinned devilishly at him. "I've been shot in at least 20 different instances, as well as drowned, hung, stabbed, run through, strangled, and numerous other attacks designed to kill me. I've taken a few arrows, too. Those were the real bitch, those arrow heads hurt and the shafts always left splinters. Not that being shot is pleasant. We still feel pain. 'Dying' and returning to life fucking sucks. But it's entirely different to wake up at the bottom of a lake with a rope around your neck and a sack on your head, than it is to be shot a dozen times. I'd rather be in the lake."

He seemed to take this in stride and he finished his cigarette in silence. Rachel returned to driving, her mind in a whirl. She wasn't sure why she was telling him all of this, or what she was going to do when it was all over. She resolutely ignored the little voice in her head that screamed about arousal and attraction and instead explained it away as being her good deed for the decade. Besides, a man who was taking care of his family was hardly someone worth killing. No, the asshole mob boss would be very much worth killing, and then after Kimber's sister was clear she'd make a decision on her next step.