Wicked Ride
Rebecca Zanetti
“When I knock a woman out, I like to make sure she survives the experience.”
Heat ticked down her spine and uncoiled in her abdomen. Why the hell did everything he say sound sexual? She narrowed her gaze. “You assaulted a police officer, buddy.”
“Kellach. Kellach Dunne.” He smiled, revealing perfectly white teeth in stunning symmetry. “I didn’t mean ta hurt you, Alexandra, and you know it.”
True. He had been busy shielding her from careening fire when his shoulder had connected with her still aching face. “Detective Monzelle to you. How about you come down to the station with me and answer some questions?” She carefully slid from the bed, her bare feet touching cold concrete.
“No.”
She glanced around the pristine room again, wondering if she could take him down. “This isn’t what I expected,” she mused to herself.
“This is your first time in a bed at Fire?”
She stilled and turned to face him, hiding her vulnerability. “I try not to fuck motorcycle gang members, especially those involved in the local drug trade.”
His grin was slow—dangerous—and amused. “Club. Motorcycle club members. Titans of Fire Motorcycle Club, to be exact.” He stood and leaned against the door, blocking the only exit. “We need ta discuss that allegation before we get to the fucking.”
THE DARK PROTECTORS SERIES
BY REBECCA ZANETTI
Fated
Claimed
Tempted
Hunted
Consumed
Provoked
Twisted
Shadowed
Tamed
Marked
Wicked Ride
Realm Enforcers, Book 1
REBECCA ZANETTI
LYRICAL PRESS
Kensington Publishing Corp.
www.kensingtonbooks.com
All copyrighted material within is Attributor Protected.
Table of Contents
“When I knock a woman out, I like to make sure she survives the experience.”
THE DARK PROTECTORS SERIES
Title Page
Dedication
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Copyright Page
This book is dedicated to all of the energetic Dark Protector fans who asked for more of those wild immortals and their mates. Thank you for your support, for the reviews, for the fan emails, for the tweets, and for the Facebook posts through the years! I very much hope you like this spinoff series, The Realm Enforcers.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I have many people to thank for help in getting this new series to readers, and I sincerely apologize to anyone I’ve forgotten.
Thank you to Big Tone for giving me tons to write about and for being supportive from the very first time I sat down to write. Thanks also to Gabe and Karlina for being such awesome kids and for making life so much fun.
Thank you to my talented agents, Caitlin Blasdell and Liza Dawson, who have been with me from the first book and who have supported, guided, and protected me in this wild industry.
Thank you to my amazing editor, Alicia Condon, who is brilliant, willing to take a risk, and has absolutely fantastic taste in shoes. She also has the knack of finding the coolest restaurants in any city.
Thank you Alexandra Nicolajsen, who has been known to tear up while making guacamole upon finding out one of her authors has hit the Times; and thank you to Vida Engstrand, who throws the best parties in the universe, because they make shy and introverted authors feel comfortable. Thanks to Arthur Maisel for the excellent production. I can’t remember in which book I learned that pistoning wasn’t a verb, but I’ve never forgotten it; and thank you to Fiona Jayde for creating just the right cover.
Thanks also to Steven Zacharius and Adam Zacharius for taking a family company and including everyone, especially authors, in that family.
Thank you to Romance Writers of America for all the great classes, contacts, and conferences. Thanks to my RWA chapters and friends: IECRWA, KOD, FF&P, and PASIC.
And thanks also to my constant support system: Gail and Jim English, Debbie and Travis Smith, Stephanie and Don West, Brandie and Mike Chapman, Jessica and Jonah Namson, and Kathy and Herb Zanetti. Thanks to Augustina Van Hoven for such skill in naming books.
Chapter 1
Kellach Dunne held his fire and turned the corner, keeping his prey in sight. Rain smattered the concrete sidewalk in a weary Seattle fashion, while garish lights from bars and massage parlors marred the comforting darkness of the midnight hour. He stepped over the legs of a bum and ignored the stench of piss, absently wishing for his bed and a good night’s sleep.
He’d left his Harley parked in a side alley to follow the bastard who stalked a woman through the city’s underbelly.
The woman scurried ahead, glancing over her shoulder, her instincts obviously kicking in. Her tight neon blue mini-dress hampered her movements, but he could appreciate the outfit—the kind that curved in just under the ass. The woman had a hell of an ass. Too bad she tottered in five-inch heels and from what smelled like Fireball whiskey.
He opened his senses to the night and the universe, scenting what humans couldn’t even imagine. Yep. Fireball and tequila. Dangerous combination. Although a lingering smell, just under the surface, sped up his blood.
Woman. Fresh and clean . . . all woman.
The man ahead of him stank of body odor, dime store cologne, and cigarette smoke. And something else, something that made Kellach’s temples pound.
Damn it, hells fire, and motherfucker. The bastard had taken the drug. The human had somehow ingested the drug right under Kell’s nose.
Kell had hung out in the Seattle underground bar for nearly a week, and somehow, the dealer had gotten past him. No wonder the foul smelling human was hunting the woman. He wouldn’t be able to help himself.
She broke into a run, surprisingly agile on the heels. As she reacted to the imminent danger, she leaped over a mud puddle and turned down a barely lit alley.
Why the fuck did they always run down an alley? Shaking his head, Kellach increased his strides while the human male in front of him did the same. Idiot didn’t even know Kellach tracked him.
Dim light from the upper apartments filtered down through the fog to barely light the way, although Kell could see fine in the dark.
The woman ran by two overflowing dumpsters, a couple garbage cans, a cardboard box housing a vagrant smelling like marijuana, and an odd arrangement of yellow flower pots perched on the back stoop of a porn shop. She reached the end of the alley blocked by a brick building and whirled around.
Gorgeous. Meager light shone down, highlighting a stunning face. Even with a ridiculous amount of blue eye shadow, pink blush, and bright red lipstick, she was a looker. Deep blue eyes, the color of the witching hour, stared out from a fin
e-boned face.
A woman like that not only didn’t belong in a fucking alley . . . she didn’t belong in the bar she’d just left.
The human male slowed and let out a low chuckle that sounded slightly manic. He towered over the woman, even in her heels, and before Kell’s eyes, his shoulders seem to broaden in his flannel shirt. “Looks like you’re at a dead end,” the guy said.
The woman sucked in air, her chest moving nicely with the effort. “W-what is wrong with your eyes?”
The human shrugged.
Kell gave a slight nod. Yep. His eyes should be all sorts of crazy at this point.
The skin down Kell’s arm sprang to life and the hair rose in warning. The atmosphere changed.
Flames, an unhealthy dark blue and morphing, danced down the human male’s right arm. He gasped and shook out his wrist. Then he threw back his head and laughed. “Did you see that?”
The woman gaped and then slowly shook her head. “Did you just set your arm on fire?”
“No. I am fire.” He held out his arm again, and flames licked down.
The woman inched to the side of the alley and stumbled over a loose brick. “What drug are you on?” Her focus narrowed as she regained her footing.
“Who cares? I’m invincible. I can create fire.” More flames danced. The guy formed a ball in one hand. “Take off the dress, or I’ll burn it off.”
“That’s not garing ta happen,” Kell said, moving to the side, opposite of the woman.
The guy whirled around, fire whipping. “What the hell?”
“Been following you.” Kell kept his hands loosely at his sides while fighting back the urge to alter matter with quantum physics and create his own fire. Just being in the same vicinity of another fire starter, one who didn’t have a clue what to do, made him itchy. “Get lost, lady. I have business with the gent here.”
The guy squinted. “You Australian?”
“No.” Kell drew himself up. Australian? Fucking moron. “Move. Now,” he ordered the woman, who’d frozen in place.
The guy shook his head. “If she moves, I’ll burn her. Even through the rain, I’m all powerful.”
“W-what’s your business?” asked the woman as she took a tentative step along the building. Water sloshed up her shapely leg, and she had to shove short wet hair away from her face.
“Doesn’t concern you.” Kell angled deeper into the alley so the guy would have to partially turn to keep him in sight, thus giving the woman a chance for freedom. Rain splattered into his eyes. “Just get moving, would you?”
“No.” The guy shook out both hands, and fire flickered. Blue and yellow stripes cut paths through his brown eyes, and red bloomed in the white parts. “I’ll kill you both.”
Kellach sighed. “How much of the drug did you take?” If the guy had only taken half a dose, he might live.
“The whole damn thing.” The guy spun around, and plasma fire sailed into a dumpster, ripping a hole in the metal. “They said I’d be a god. I’m a fucking god.”
The woman cringed against the brick building. “I don’t understand. What kind of a weapon throws fire?”
Kell shot forward and slid an arm around the guy’s neck, spinning him into a headlock, their backs to the woman. Fire burst along the guy’s arms, burning Kell. Pain dug under his skin. With a low growl, Kell allowed his own fire free. Deep and green, it crackled along his body, shielding him from harm. With a puff of smoke, Kell’s fire quelled the human’s.
The human convulsed. Hard and fast, he shook against Kell, who held him upright. It was too late to help the guy—he had taken too much. Way too much. A wretched scream spilled from the human’s throat.
Kell released him and stepped back.
The guy fell to the wet ground, still convulsing. Red poured from his ears, his eyes, and then his nose. The rancid stench of burned flesh filled the alley. He hit hard, shook, and then went still. His eyes retained the bizarre colors, and he looked sightlessly up at the cloudy night. The rain mingled with blood across his face.
Kell sighed and pushed wet hair out of his eyes. Another dead end, and he’d wasted more time, which he absolutely did not have right now. He needed to get rid of the body and then somehow convince the woman she hadn’t just seen what she’d just seen. Plastering on his most charming smile, he turned around and froze.
“Seattle PD. Freeze, asshole,” she whispered, her stance set, a Sig Subcompact in her hands and pointed at his head.
Detective Alexandra Monzelle kept her balance on the ridiculous heels and her gun pointed at the definite threat.
Well over six feet tall, muscled, graceful as hell . . . the guy facing her showed no fear. No emotion, really. Black hair fell to his broad shoulders, the darkness a perfect match for his eyes. Chiseled face, huge-ass hands, and feet big enough to waterski on. Yet he moved with the smoothness of a trained soldier.
He lifted one dark eyebrow. “Seattle Police Department?”
She nodded and tried to stop shaking from the chill in the air on her bare skin. Way too much bare skin, but she’d been undercover. “Get on your knees.”
Intrigue leaped into his glittering eyes. “Not garing ta happen.”
Was that a true Irish brogue? It fit him somehow. “I will shoot you.”
He shrugged a massive shoulder beneath a leather duster. “That’s your choice, lass.”
Did he just fucking call her lass like some lady from a century ago? “Oh no, Irish boy. Get on your knees. Now.” She put every ounce of command she possessed into her voice.
“Well now. At least you knew I was from Ireland.” He glanced down at the dead man and his foot slid forward as if to kick. Then, apparently changing his mind, he focused on her again and smiled. “As opposed to Australia.”
Okay. She really didn’t want another body on her hands, but in the dress and heels, she was at a physical disadvantage. The last thing she needed was to spend all night filling out more paperwork than had already been created. “Down. Now.”
He cocked his head to one side. “I can’t help but ask where you were keeping your weapon.” His gaze, dark and intense, roved over her entire body.
Tingles. Damn weird and very unwelcome, tingles cascaded wherever his gaze landed. She might just have to shoot the bastard and fill out the paperwork anyway. “I don’t want to shoot you, but I can live with the decision. Get on your knees or say a quick prayer to your maker.”
He glanced over his shoulder. “I don’t suppose you have backup coming?”
No. Her backup had followed the dealer. She shook her head to provide warning and lowered her aim to his right leg. “I guess losing one leg won’t kill you.”
His focus returned to her. “You shoot me, and we’re going to have a problem.” He spoke slowly and clearly, without a hint of distress.
A chill wandered down her back. The man was damn serious . . . and damn scary. Yet she couldn’t let any fear show. She sighed and tightened her arms to shoot. “If you’d just get on your knees, this night would go so much more smoothly.”
“Say please.”
She blinked. Seriously? Hell, if it got him to cooperate, she’d chirp a Haiku. “Please.”
“As you wish.” Graceful as any dancer, he dropped to his knees. Water splashed up.
Funny, but the guy didn’t seem any less dangerous. She cleared her throat. “Cross your ankles.”
He sighed and crossed huge boots behind him. “Why were you trying to entrap this guy?”
Her handcuffs were in her purse in the bar, and she hadn’t had a chance to grab it before rushing out so the junkie would take the bait and follow her. Her gun, on the other hand, had been strapped to her inner thigh. “Clasp your hands together on the back of your head.”
He kept her gaze and clasped his hands on that thick black hair. His shirt pulled tight over defined muscles in his chest, and he seemed more in control of the situation than ever. “You don’t have cuffs.”
Yep. Might just have to shoot him. �
��My partner will be here soon.” She hoped Bernie would be there soon.
“Aye, I’m sure.” The man glanced at the body. “Do you know how he died?”
Duh. “Overdose. What’s your name?”
“Kellach.” He lifted both eyebrows. “What’s yours?”
“Detective Alexandra Monzelle.” Everyone called her Lex. Between the disappearance of her adrenaline rush, the chilly rain, and her aching arms, the gun became heavy. Yet she didn’t twitch. “What do you know about the drug?”
“What drug?” The man’s eyelids half-closed as if she were boring him to sleep.
Heck, she’d like to plug him one in the leg just to get his attention. “You asked about the drug. It’s too late to play dumb.”
He shrugged.
“Okay, then how about explaining all that fire. Did you douse yourself with some weird accelerant?” She couldn’t quite come up with a reasonable explanation for the strange glow over his skin and the corpse’s, so he’d better damn well explain, because she hadn’t gotten a good look with their backs turned to her. “Where’s the weapon?”
“No weapon. It’s a chemical that looks like fire but obviously isn’t.”
True—no burn marks marred his skin or the dead guy. Who was Kellach? Was he a rival dealer or something else? He wore a leather duster, flack boots, and faded jeans. Motorcycle gang member?
His head lifted, and his nostrils flared just like a German shepherd she’d seen scouting for drugs once.
Long shadows mingled on the alley floor, and two men drew nearer. Deep blue flames morphed along the arm of one of them. More of the damn weapons?
