But having a long-range plan that meant leaving some sort of legacy was never anything she’d dwelled on. Hell no. Life was too unpredictable for that. After her own disastrous childhood, trying to have a couple of kids and win the Mother of the Year Award would have been a disservice to the planet. No, rather than be a procreator she’d elected to be an eliminator, wiping the city streets clean of the kind of scum that had made her childhood hell.
Tanya hugged herself. It had been so easy to get into the business. Maybe too easy. Work with bail bondsmen was her entry point. It was good money, fast money. The bigger the fish she hauled in, the more side jobs would come in, until one of the casino boys realized that she had the body of a black widow. Most of her targets were male. All of them were dirty as sin, so she didn’t get into the politics of justice. She just served it.
Regardless of nationality, her targets were always wary of other men casing them, but not of a female who looked like she did—five seven, satiny brown skin, mahogany-hued hair that swept her shoulders, intense Egyptian kohl-rimmed eyes, with thirty-six, twenty-four, thirty-eight dimensions. That was always good for a conversation opener. Slipping them a roofie made hand-to-hand combat a less likely thing, albeit she was prepared to go there if she had to.
Then in one night, the night that would have been her largest takedown, everything went wrong.
Dimitri wasn’t like her other targets. He didn’t drink. He didn’t bend to her feminine charms. He did seem amused by her, though. That should have been her cue. But she’d gotten cocky. Had never missed her mark. Had become the thing she promised herself she’d never be while still young: sloppy. That would never happen again.
Even now thinking back on it, the memory gave her a chill. Somehow Dimitri had gotten her to actually drink … and chat … and had turned her on. Now she knew why. There was something hypnotic about his dark, intensely piercing eyes.
Back then, it was all still a strangely exciting mystery. It was a shame that the people who’d hired her wanted him dead. The man was seriously fine, but had been fleecing their blackjack tables, and when they’d stepped to him, he’d killed several of their guards. The people who ran Vegas beneath the shimmering lights didn’t want to wait for law enforcement. They wanted justice served the old-fashioned way: cold and immediately. They thought they’d be sending a message to the Russian mob and had no idea that it was an invitation to war with a seriously old vampire.
Tanya looked around the expansive Manhattan brownstone that she now owned, courtesy of her last job. Dimitri had old-world tastes, but had a fully functional vaulted crypt in the basement. At some point when she cared more, she’d have it all redone.
Still, the one thing that bothered her was how quickly the mission had gotten blurry and how she foolishly wasn’t afraid of the interesting, dark-haired Russian. At that time he seemed like he was just a man. After sex, they all fell asleep. At some point, they all had to eat. Poison. A silenced bullet. Whatever. It didn’t matter. She was patient. Unfortunately, so was he.
Tanya closed her eyes. This was the part that she wanted so badly to write about. This new awareness of a life beyond life was what she wanted to chronicle. That would be her legacy, the only thing that maybe she’d be remembered for.
But then she’d also have to tell how he’d toyed with her as though playing with his food. Humiliating, but true. She was human, then; he was not. He’d brought her back to his suite; she thought she was in a good position. He just smiled and remained the perfect gentleman … pouring her a merlot. And she found herself getting naked for him while he watched from across the room. His eyes held more fascination than desire—an enjoyment of the hunt that she’d recognized too late. And that’s when everything began going badly.