Read Return of the Assassin (All the King's Men) for Free Online

arrange that.
    I bet you can. Hell, he already was losing his mind, holding whole conversations with himself like he was jockeying between split personalities.
    Pulling away from Four Alarm, he kept his gaze to the front. "What's your name?"
    "Trina."
    Eh.
    "What's yours?" she said.
    "Malek."
    "Pleasure to meet you, Malek." She settled into the passenger seat and took a mirror out of her purse to check her lipstick.
    If only she knew, in thirty minutes, the state of her lipstick wouldn't be important. She had the right equipment, and that was all that mattered. And by the end of the evening, he'd make her question whether hopping in his car had been a pleasure.
    "I hope you like it rough, Trina." He stabbed a quick, sideways glance at her.
    She froze and looked across the seat at him as if he'd grown a horn out his forehead.
    He'd been prepared for that reaction and didn't miss a beat, jumping in before she could protest. "I'll give you two thousand dollars to like it rough." He hit the gas and pulled out onto the main road. "And you won't even have to tell your boss about the extra thou."
    That settled her down a bit. "How rough?"
    "You'll see."
    Oh yes, she would see.
    * * *
    Inside Four Alarm, Lorena's gaze lingered in the direction the handsome, obviously tortured, dark-haired vampire had disappeared with Trina. Lucky girl. Bitch, more like. That male looked like he would make a worthy bedroom adversary. He appeared to be working through major demons, all angsty and ready to snap. How delightful. Lorena did enjoy a male who could give her the harsh, physical working she yearned for, which other males—human, dreck, and vampire alike—often failed to deliver. But that was what it meant to be a Thracian female. The last of her kind, no less, which meant she was often unsatisfied in the bedroom, since there were no Thracian males left to please her.
    Lorena glowered toward the back exit. She had been about to move on that sexy beast of a male when Trina cut her off. He looked like he could use a willing playmate who wanted the abuse he seemed ready to give. Now she seethed at the loss.
    "Thank God he's gone." Jess heaved a sigh of relief beside her.
    "Who?" Lorena regarded Jess through narrowed eyes.
    "That asshole who just left with Trina."
    With one brow raised, Lorena glanced back at the empty shadows that led to the exit. "Why? What's wrong with him?"
    Jess fluttered her hands as if chasing away a swarm of gnats. "He's a creep. Took me home one night. Super sweet. Next night, though?" Her face screwed up with disgust. "The asshole choked me. As if I'm in to asphyxiation." Jess licked salt off her hand before downing a shot of tequila.
    Lorena's brow flicked with interest as the corners of her mouth lifted. "Asphyxiation, huh?"
    "Yes." Jess gasped from the shot then quickly sucked a lime wedge. "You'd like him."
    Lorena tapped her long, manicured fingernail on the table, brooding further over her loss. She wasn't a working girl like Jess and Trina, but only because she didn't charge the men she sought for sex. She had a healthy appetite for rough sex and kink in all its forms, and when Bishop didn't have her on some task or another, or on her back himself when he visited, she took advantage of the downtime to play. Figured she'd waited ten seconds too long and lost what promised to have been a very good time.
    "Know his name?" She uncrossed and recrossed her legs, leaning toward Jess and tucking a long, stray curl behind her ear.
    "Marek, or maybe…no. Malek. That's his name. Creeper Malek ."
    Malek? She recognized that name. He was one of the AKM vampires. But this guy—the defunct trophy of male hotness Trina had just stolen away with a bat of her fake eyelashes—hardly resembled the male she had seen on various surveillance assignments. This male looked lost and desolate, full of danger and deadly aggression, while the Malek she had seen in the past had seemed reserved—a male who had his shit together. One who