Vampire Moon Read Online Free Page A

onslaught. Pretending the bag was my ex-husband was doing wonders for me.
     
               “You’re sweating like a pig, Sam,” screamed Jacky. “I like that!”
     
               “You like pig sweat?”
     
               He just shook his head and screamed at me to keep my fists up. I grinned and unleashed a flurry of punches that rocked the bag and nearly sent little Jacky flying, and attracted a small group of women who gathered nearby to watch the freak.
     
               And as I punched and sweated and kept my fists up, I knew that fighting Danny wasn’t the answer. Luckily, there were other ways to fight back.
     
              
     
              
     
              
     
               Chapter Five
     

     
              
     
              
     
               After a long shower and a few phone calls to some friends working in the federal government, I was at El Torito Bar and Grill in Brea—just a hop, skip and a jump from my hotel.
     
               I was wearing jeans and a turtle neck sweater. Not because it was cold outside, but because I looked so damn cute in turtle neck sweaters. The stiff-looking man sitting across from me seemed to think so, too. Special Agent Greg Lomax, lead investigator with the FBI, was in full flirt mode, and it was all I could do to keep him on track. Maybe I shouldn’t have looked so cute, after all.
     
               Damn my cuteness.
     
               El Torito is loud and open. The loudness and openness was actually of benefit for anyone having a private conversation, which was probably why Greg had chosen it.
     
               Personally, I found the noise level here a bit overwhelming, but then again, I’m also just a sweet and sensitive woman.
     
               It was either that or my supernaturally acute hearing that quite literally picked up every clattering dish, scraping fork, and far ruder sounds best not described. And, of course, picked up the babble of ceaseless conversations. If I wanted to I could generally make out any individual conversation within any room. Handy for a P.I., trust me. Granted, I couldn’t hear through walls or anything, but sounds that most people could hear, well, I could just hear that much better.
     
               “Lots of people over at HUD talk very highly of you,” he said.
     
               “I gave them the best seven years of my life,” I said.
     
               “And then you came down with some sort of, what, rare skin disease or something?”
     
               “Or something,” I said.
     
               “Now you work private,” he said.
     
               “Yes. A P.I.”
     
               “How’s that working out?”
     
               “It’s good to be my own boss,” I said. “Now I give myself weekly pay raises and extra long coffee breaks.”
     
               He grinned. “That’s cute. Anyway, I was told to tell you what I could. So ask away. If I can’t talk about something, or I just don’t know the answer, I’ll tell you.”
     
               We were sitting opposite each other in a far booth in the far corner of the bar. I was sipping some house zinfandel, and he was drinking a Jack and Coke. White wine and water were about the only two liquids I could consume. Well, that and something else.
     
               Just thinking about that something else immediately turned my stomach.
     
               I said, “So do you think the crash was an accident?”
     
               “You get right to the point,” he said. “I like that.”
     
               “Must be the investigator in me.”
     
               He nodded, drank some more Jack and Coke. “No, this wasn’t an accident. We know that much.”
     
               “How do you know that?”
     
               He smiled. “We just know.”