***
Amaliya slowly strode along the crowded walk that wound around the entire Riverwalk area below street level in downtown San Antonio. Since it was Friday night, people were everywhere: heading into clubs, strolling, shopping, and sitting down to dinner along the edge of the river. The atmosphere was exciting and festive.
Children darted around her as they dashed about excitedly. Swerving around couples walking hand in hand, she almost felt human and it felt great. All she needed to do was get her bearings, figure out where she was going, and get back on the road.
At least the bastard had added another two thousand dollars to her stash of cash. Going away money, she assumed. It should last her a bit longer.
She was feeling better now and enjoyed the energy of the people around her. She had fed off of three different females that had come alone into the restroom. Luckily, she had been lurking in a restroom tucked away from the main walkway and did not have to worry about being interrupted.
She was passing one of the many stairways that led up to the street level when she was snagged from behind. Two massive Mexicans grabbed her arms as another snatched away her bag.
“Do not fuck with me boys,” she warned, and tried to wrench free.
They didn't budge and their grip remained secure. Slowly, she realized they were not human.
Dammit.
“Um. Hi?”
“Let's go,” one of them said with a grim smile.
“Santos is going to love this one,” the smaller guy with the super short hair decided. “Yeah. This one will be fun. ”
“Look, I'm just passing through and-”
“No vampire just passes through nowhere. You're in our territory now, puta. Better hope Santos is in a good mood. ”
The big guy took a firm hold of her as if she was his girlfriend, his huge arm slung over her shoulders.
Amaliya tried to break free one more time, but she was held securely in place against the beefy man.
“Oh, shit,” she whispered and was escorted away into the night.
Chapter Eighteen
Amaliya kicked the back of the car seat as hard as she could every few seconds and screamed at the top of her lungs. Trapped in the trunk of a small sports car, she felt claustrophobic and pissed off. The brutes had fastened her hands and feet together with plastic handcuffs. They had actually left her duffel bag, still smelling of garbage, in the trunk with her. The reek was getting to her.
“Just let me go,” she screamed again, and kicked as hard as she could.
The car veered to one side and her head slammed into the side of the trunk. This had happened several times and she was sure the driver was doing it on purpose.
She could not believe her luck. Just when things looked like they were going to get better, Cian ditched her in San Antonio, and she got picked up by gangster vampires.
Her body smacked into the side of the trunk again, then the car came to a hard stop, and she slammed into the rear of the backseat.
“That fucking hurts!”
“Not like it's gonna hurt, bitch,” a muffled voice answered her.
The back seat of the car was pulled down to reveal a small opening and the large vampire pulled her through into the interior of the car. It was obvious they did it to knock her around as much as they could. She was yanked out of the vehicle and the big guy accidentally dropped her on her face.
Wiggling around, she managed to flip onto her back as the biggest guy, bald and massive in a goldenrod yellow shirt, stood guard while the smaller guy got her bag.
She reared her legs back and tried to kick him. Without even glancing her way, the large man caught her booted feet in one massive hand. Flipping her back onto her stomach, he leaned down and grabbed the waistband of her jeans and hoisted her up off the ground. Carrying her like she was a bag, he walked up a narrow driveway to an enormous house nestled into the side of a hill.
We must be on the Northwest side of San Antonio, she thought.
Latin music filled the air and an assortment of Mexican-American women of all sizes, skin and hair color, all clad in sexy outfits, stood on a patio off to the side of the house sipping drinks and laughing. They barely glanced her way as she was dragged up the front steps and into the Spanish-style house. Carried over tiled floors, Amaliya tried wrenching free, but to no avail.