The Spy Who Fanged Me by Donna Michaels - Read Online
The Spy Who Fanged Me
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Summary

What’s the world to do when gold starts disappearing and the agents assigned to the case are turned into life-size lawn ornaments?

Send in Double O Fang Agent Pierce De Vein, and Shifter Intelligence Agent (SIA) Kitty Katt to investigate. Unhappy with their forced alliance, each loner must learn to work with a partner and stop trying to outdo one another long enough to solve the case. When the evidence points to an evil gnome and his army of rogue leprechauns, the agents infiltrate the organization in the forms of a bat and a cat.

Will their plan work, or will they end up sleeping with the daisies as a pair of garden decorations?

Published: Whimsical Publications on
ISBN: 9781936167111
List price: $3.99
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The Spy Who Fanged Me - Donna Michaels

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Prologue

Step away from the gold, Dr. Cornelius Eugene Epstein.

The authority in the intrusive voice irked the doctor. He stiffened, fingers stopping mid-stroke. No one called him his real name and lived. Straightening from the gleaming treasure he’d melted into globes—a fitting shape considering the world and all its gold would soon be his—he held out a hand and waited for Icabod to scale his arm and settle on his shoulder.

Black, with a penchant for bling, his pet scorpion favored to ride shotgun and show off his gold-tipped stinger.

With his need to caress the shiny interrupted, he gripped his cane and turned to face three very human, very armed, very stupid agents. The name’s Gnome…Doctor Gnome.

"Begging your pardon, Doctor Gnome. Please step away from the gold." The agent in the middle smiled, revealing even, white teeth surrounded by two perfect dimples.

He hated dimples.

Why? Because you scary, tall men told me to? Pretending to cower, he summoned his magic, bringing it to a boil until power tingled just under the surface. Dr. Gnome had learned most humans took him for helpless because of his small size. They were wrong. Very wrong. You’d think the United States, Russia and—he paused to inhale, then continued when his sense of smell identified the third scent—England would have realized by now, sending their best agents won’t stop me. They’re only adding to my collection.

Dimples frowned, and lowered his glock an inch. What are you talking about? What collection?

Dr. Gnome cocked his head and grinned. Why, my collection of government agents, of course. A short burst of magic shot from his staff and zapped agent number one where he stood.

Spurred into action, Dimples and number three dove for cover behind a desk, emptying their clips on their way to the floor.

Foolish.

Dr. Gnome’s laughter bounced off the walls as his enchanted cane shielded his body from their rain of bullets. Never underestimate the power of the short side, he scolded, ramming his staff into the polished floor. The connection sent his desk careening across the room, leaving the agents out in the open. Before they could respond, the doctor channeled his magic to the tip of his cane, and within seconds, the men joined his ever-growing assortment of concrete agents.

When will these countries ever learn? Dr. Gnome turned his head toward Icabod. Humans are no match for me.

Chapter One

Four months later…

Mmm…nobody necks like you, Pierce DeVein. Are you sure you don’t want to go back to my place? You’ve barely had more than an appetizer. Diana, one of his regulars, smiled provocatively as she swiped at her punctured throat, then brought her blood stained fingers to his lips.

Hunger resurfaced, gripping and swirling, until his taste buds hurt. With supreme effort, Pierce curbed his vampire urges and reminded himself of the mission. The Internet Job. He had one more cyber arms-dealer to deliver to his superiors at P.L.A.S.M.A.—Paranormal League Against Social Menace Agency.

Mealtime was over.

Gently grasping Diana’s hand, he sucked the metallic sweetness from her fingers, then placed her firmly away. Thanks, darlin’, but sadly, I have to work tonight. How about a rain check?

Despite the alley’s darkness, he saw and heard Diana’s sweet blush. The sound of tasty syrup gushing through her veins resounded in his ears while her lust perfumed the air with a musky scent. Delicious. But, this was no time to satisfy either of his appetites. He stepped back, knowing by her increased pulse and elevated hormones he’d receive an open invitation.

Of course, Pierce. She smiled, twisting a strand of copper hair around a dainty finger. Anytime. Anytime. My window’s always unlocked for you.

Thanks, darlin’. His lips brushed her knuckles before he turned and strode out of the alley to head for his car parked down the block. Bébé glistened in the amber glow of a nearby street light. A sight that never ceased to thrill.

The 1984 gunmetal blue Monte Carlo SS appeared and drove just as smooth as the day he’d bought it new. His baby. The vintage car represented him in many ways—aged, but in perfect condition, more under the hood than met the eye, and it bore the name of his birthplace centuries ago.

He took chances with his life—not his car. Ever.

"Time to end this mission, Bébé," he told his pride and joy.

After unlocking the door, Pierce slid inside and smiled at the welcoming sound of creaking, high grade vinyl. A constant he never took for granted. Years of roaming the earth had instilled the importance of appreciating the little things. A lesson he’d learned all too well.

The opening chords of Stairway to Heaven cut the silence, and his musings, short. He fished the ringing phone from the inside pocket of his brown suede jacket and checked the number before answering. He had expected this call an hour ago.

Yes, Rudy, what have you got?

His informant, Rudy, tapped dealings happening on the net, and Pierce, in turn, tapped his informant.

You’re in luck. Your boy, Poco, has surfaced on a wireless connection, which I picked up by—

Just tell me where to find him, Pierce interrupted, rolling down the window. He leaned out and glanced at the stars. The night was still young. Diana hadn’t distracted him too long.

Poco’s using a laptop in one of the boxed seats at the Marlin’s game, and according the GPS chip in your phone, you’re only five blocks north.

I’m on my way. Do you know who he’s meeting? Pierce started the car and pulled away from the curb.

Someone named Hellfire666. Bad dude, ordering a ton of shit.

Then it’s time to close down Poco’s operation. He snapped the phone shut.

Poco was the last of the cyber arms dealers P.L.A.S.M.A. had ordered Pierce to take down. Eagerness to close another mission mixed with the adrenaline of the hunt and heated his veins. A rare treat considering he was cold-blooded. He glanced at the Rolex hugging his wrist—a gift from a sweet, but deceased concubine from his past. If everything went smooth, he’d still have time to take advantage of Diana’s rain check. Whistling a classic Rod Stewart tune, Pierce approached the jammed parking lot within minutes.

Unease immediately trickled down his spine. Was it the job or the buffet jammed into the stadium? He enjoyed a good baseball game as much as the next guy, but found watching from home afforded a better view—with less temptation. Hell, he could tell from behind home plate when the right-fielder snagged his knuckles on the wall.

Crowds meant injuries, injuries meant blood, and blood meant fierce hunger. Everything he strived to avoid. But sometimes his Double O’Fang Agent status left him no choice. Like now. Despite the crowd, and its tantalizing smells, he had a perpetrator to apprehend.

A quick scan of the packed lot confirmed the game sold out. There wasn’t an open spot in sight. Damn! No way would he double park Bébé. His gaze darted around the lot again. The red glow of taillights gleamed on his right. Yes! Someone was leaving. Pedal down, he raced to the row, then waited for the SUV to finish backing out. A flash of light rounded the corner, and before he could inch forward, a black 1974 Corvette Stingray screeched to a halt in his spot.

Son of a bitch! Pierce gripped the steering wheel and growled. Inconsiderate bastard!

The door flew open and out came a pair of black knee-high boots attached to long, curvy legs covered in skin-tight, black leather pants. Nice. Anger momentarily forgotten, he loosened his grip on the wheel and continued to appraise the sleek form unfolding from an equally sleek ride.

A black halter hugged a tanned, sinewy upper body. Very nice. His mouth watered, then promptly dried when she bent down to reach into the car and showcased her perfectly rounded bottom. Bonjour. His jeans tightened with the utmost appreciation.

Long, shiny, ebony hair fell forward, affording him a glimpse of a cat tattoo on the back of her neck. Hunger seized him in spades, and his grip increased, nearly snapping the wheel in two.

Damn. That’s one well put together female.

She slipped into a leather trench coat, shut the door, then stiffened. His breathing ceased and he watched, fully intrigued, as she slowly turned to face him. Black bangs framed a heart-shaped face, and eyes the color of palm fronds stood out against the darkness of night. Full, kissable lips dropped a fraction, along with her pulse when their gazes met.

Pierce couldn’t resist a small inhale. Magnifique. She smelled of confidence, desire and a primal essence. There was something about the mixture... He narrowed his eyes and drew in another breath.

She’s hunting.

Thanks for the spot, she said with a flash of white teeth, and in a black blur, she was gone.

He blinked. What the hell? His keen eyesight picked up nothing. No sign of her. Vanished. Gone like his parking spot. What was she? Definitely not human. But she wasn’t a vampire either. He would’ve sensed the shared curse and wouldn’t have heard a beating heart. No, the beauty was a beast, lethal, and on the prowl.

A longing to taste her wild blood twisted his gut. What’s wrong with me? This isn’t the seventeenth century. I don’t feed on animals anymore, he muttered, more than a little disgusted by his attraction. His gaze fell to the woman’s license plate. PURFECT. Especially shallow cats.

With a shake of his head, he drew his gaze away to search for another possible space. Luck was on his side. A spot opened in the same row, and a minute later, Pierce was inside the stadium on his way to the boxed seats.

When he arrived at the elevators, he stopped and glanced around. Where were the ticket guards? Unease returned to clutch his spine. A smooth mission was definitely out of the question. So was Diana’s place and his rain check.

Something was very off.

As the lift carried him to the upper deck, he regarded the security camera and frowned. No tiny, red light. Apprehension spread to grip his shoulders. Did Hellfire666 have the equipment to electronically take out security? Poco didn’t. Pierce drew his gun and hugged the corner near the controls, waiting for the elevator to reach the secure level. The doors opened and immediately shed light on the mystery of the missing guards.

Unconscious and bleeding, they littered the hall in enticing heaps. Saliva pooled across Pierce’s tongue. The craving for blood heated his veins. He clenched his jaw and held his fangs intact. Good thing he’d stopped for that appetizer. Eyeing both directions, instinct took him to the right. What was going on? Had someone tipped off his perp?

He sniffed the air and listened.

The crack of a bat, whiz of the ball, and roar of the crowd vibrated through the stadium, momentarily drowning out all other sound. Swallowing his annoyance, he proceeded further down the hall and drew in another breath. Popcorn, beer and hotdogs mixed with the smell of sweat, fear and…cat?

PURFECT.

She was inside the next room with someone. Pulses raced. Voices rose. Was she scared? He stepped closer and listened.

Tell me where he is, she demanded.

Okay, so she wasn’t scared.

I don’t know what you’re talking about, lady. Leave, or I’m calling the guard. Irritation consumed a man’s tone. Was he dead from the waist down? He was obviously immune to the cat’s beauty. Or maybe he preferred dogs.

Not until you tell me what I want to know. Her voice all but purred.

Pierce’s groin tightened. Damn libido. His body had no problem responding to the cat. He pressed his ear to the door and tuned into every noise, every movement in the room.

I don’t know anything. I’m just sitting here watching the game, the man insisted.

Even with the door shielding his view, Pierce knew the guy was lying. The slight drop in the man’s tone was a dead giveaway. Something a cat would never miss.

You expect me to believe you’re watching the game with your laptop opened?

Laptop? Damn! She’s inside with my perp. Adrenaline rushed through Pierce’s body with a vengeance. Was she Hellfire666? No. If she was, Poco wouldn’t be in such a hurry to get rid of her. Then who was she? His mind could not recall ever seeing the sex kitten before tonight. With a killer body like that, he would’ve remembered.

Through playing eavesdropper, Pierce tried the handle and was pleasantly surprised to find it unlocked. He opened the door and entered the party with ease.

Knock, knock, he said, gun aimed at Purfect while he assessed the situation.

Upon his intrusion, she’d quickly yanked the laptop-clutching occupant in front of her, and held a weapon to his slick head. There was enough grease in the guy’s combed back hair to deep fry a dozen chicken wings. A most unappealing meal. Unlike the woman. Pierce held his hunger in check, and without dropping her intent gaze, he noted the name Poco scratched into the computer’s lid.

Definitely his perp.

Look, I don’t know what’s going on here, Poco said, eyeing the door. I’m just a salesman, that’s all.

Shut up. Heavily armed under her coat, Purfect wasn’t scared. In fact, her heartbeat and blood flow suggested excitement and adrenaline. She was enjoying herself.

Pierce shook his head. Shifters, what a weird lot.

What’s wrong, Hellfire666? Didn’t expect your dealer to have company? Her voice purred again as she removed her colt from Poco’s temple to aim the gun at him.

Pierce smiled. Sorry to disappoint you, darlin’, but I’m not Hellfire666.

Of course not. She returned his grin. Her distrust smelled like a stale donut. You’re just the devil in disguise.

Cute.

He’s telling the truth, Poco spoke up. He’s not Hel—

Shut up, weasel! Your kind makes me sick. You think you can stay clean behind your nice little computer while you supply arms to terrorists! Well, not this time, pal. This time, you’re getting dirty. She jerked the perp closer, increased her hold on his neck and broke his skin with her long, clear-polished nail. Thick drops of blood trickled over her finger and down Poco’s throat in a tantalizing red trail.

Pierce swallowed. Damn. The last thing he needed was more temptation. His insides were still twisted from the smell of the fresh meal littering the hall.

The sexy cat didn’t miss a trick.

Her gaze narrowed and delicate nose wrinkled. Oh, you’re one of them. I sensed you lacked something. Now I know what it is…sucker.

Funny. Pierce cocked his head, gun still aimed at her bangs. I sensed a few things about you too…kitten.

She arched a brow. You know, it’s been a long time since someone’s called me kitten…and lived. I see no reason for today to be any different, Hellfire666.

Pierce knew the instant she squeezed the trigger. The pause in her pulse gave her away. Damn woman thought he was some kind of radical. He jerked to the side, barely dodging the path of bullets, but he didn’t return fire. However infuriating the woman may be, she was hunting a terrorist, therefore, she was one of the good guys. Girls. Women. Analogy aside, she was still dangerous.

With no time to talk himself out of the situation, Pierce launched at the female and took her and Poco down. All three fell over a row of plastic chairs and rolled on the floor. The impact dislodged their guns and the weapons slid across the commercial carpet along with Poco’s laptop. The perp lay motionless while Pierce continued to roll with the shifter, each vying for control.

Shoulder throbbing and adrenaline flowing, he shook the hair from his eyes and held onto the curvy woman. Try as he might, he couldn’t quell his craving. Her agility, and the way her supple body felt both on top and underneath, resurrected a long dormant need. A need he would rather not feel.

Sure, he’d desired women and enjoyed sexual fulfillment whenever and wherever possible, but there were only a select few during his lengthy life he’d actually wanted.

Why did this one have to be a cat?

She freed a hand and whipped out another weapon.

And a feisty one at that.

He grabbed her wrist, and her thumping pulse sent a faint thud in his chest. Crap! She possessed the same ability as Crystelle. The capacity to bring him as close to life as possible. Given time, exposure to this woman could solidify a connection to her every breath. He would feel life as she felt it. Her very pulse would pound through him.

But Pierce didn’t ask for, nor want, the ability to feel again. The last time would’ve killed him if he weren’t already dead. No, it was time to get back on track and deal with the situation at hand. Literally.

You know, darlin’, a bullet is not going to kill me, he said as he rolled them into a wall and used the collision to knock her second gun away.

True. She smiled up at him, her gaze alive with battle.

She had the most beautiful eyes, mesmerizing and clear. He’d gazed into many, but none had ever sparkled so green or vibrant.

His mind began to shut down. For a moment, he forgot where they were and what they were doing as he lost himself in the glittering, emerald depths. He hadn’t been this enthralled by a woman in centuries.

A bullet would have no effect on you, she stated softly, her sultry voice all but purring. "But this might, darlin’."

With a strength to rival his own, she took advantage of his distracted state and hurled him across the room. Gorgeous and smart. He righted himself and pushed the hair from his eyes in time to see her jam a dart filled with a bright blue liquid into the chamber of a dart gun.

Pierce frowned. "How many weapons do you have in that coat?"

This is Violet. She ignored his question as she waved the gun. "She’s my ultra friend."

Ultra?

Son of a… He dove behind a cluster of fallen chairs and watched behind a wall of blue plastic as Poco slipped out the door. Damn it, woman! I’m not Hellfire666. I’m a government agent here to pick up the perpetrator you just let escape!

She stilled, her brilliant gaze ricocheting to the door before settling back on his with a disgusted expression. Then why the hell are you wasting my time?

Without waiting for his reply, the grumbling black blur shot from the room and left him alone. Damn, she’s fast. Pierce bent to grab his fallen weapon and noted both of her colts were missing from the floor. Real fast. Even his keen eyesight hadn’t caught her swift weapons retrieval.

What other abilities did the beauty possess?

A quick head shake cleared his mind of the fog she cast around his brain. The job remained unfinished. Now he had to work fast. First thing on his list—save Poco. If Purfect was after Hellfire666, then Pierce was under no illusion she’d kill to find the radical. Not that he blamed her. He’d probably do the same. The world would be better off without Hellfire666 and he hoped she found him. But Poco was his mission and he never failed.

Pierce rushed into the hall, and picking up their scent, used his gift of speed to race after the cat and his perp. He just hoped he wouldn’t be too late. Shifters were unpredictable. Heaven only knew what she’d do to Poco. Their scent led him through an exit door and down three flights of stairs to the ground floor. He didn’t slow his pace, dodging meandering patrons and guards—a swift breeze the only evidence of his presence. Once outside, he stopped when the trail stopped—at his car.

Son of a…

Pierce bent down to peer inside at his new passenger. A slew of curses left his lips and fogged the glass. An unconscious Poco bled all over the seat.

My car! The sound of knuckles cracking echoed in the night as the urge to punch shook his fists. He resisted. There was no one around to pounce on and he sure as hell wasn’t going to take his frustrations out on his car. But that didn’t lessen his need to lash out. He twisted around and kicked the tire on the monster truck parked adjacent instead. Then repeated the action. Twice.

That…That…She left him bleeding in my car! Pierce scanned the scene and frowned. How the hell did she get in? The doors were locked and windows were up—just as he’d left it. His