In this scene, Zaria and Detective Greg Parsons have been kidnapped by her ex-husband and his band of troublemakers. They want to video a recreated violent scene from his comic book.

By the time Kent made his grand entrance, I was so bored I’d considered applauding. He waltzed in like a rock star with a big-breasted blonde on one arm and a brown paper, liquor-filled bag in the other. The blonde only slightly resembled Laura, and that was if I squinted when I looked at her. She had the right body type and hair color, but pretty much everything else was off. Ivan frowned at her but no one else seemed to care, and I didn’t say a word. The last glance I’d given Greg proved Paul and Ben took their job seriously. One held a large knife, the other a gun. Only a foot of space separated each of them from Greg and I wasn’t taking any chances. I decided to be a very good girl.

Not-Laura, whose name was never mentioned, was already drunk and clinging to Kent like a leech. He set the bag onto the coffee table, pulling out a bottle of vodka, before finally looking around the room. His gaze settled on me and he sneered.

“Hello, Zaria. You haven’t changed much.”

Kent and I had never been friends. He’d known Kurt and I were on the verge of dating, flirting outrageously every chance we got and finding any reason to be in each other’s company. Kent had only tolerated my presence because his brother had wanted me. I’d moved into Joe’s complex because Kurt lived there and had given me a shoulder to cry on many times after my divorce. I’d tried not to use him as a rebound guy, and that was the only reason we weren’t dating the night he’d lost control. I still firmly believed someone had slipped something into his drink, but there was no way to prove it. Blood rush messes with vampires so badly, toxicology reports are completely useless. It’s like if a human did cocaine, meth and LSD all at once before drinking a vat of alcohol. The vamps don’t suffer the consequences a human would, but their blood looks that messed up.

All I know is one minute I was in the kitchen mixing drinks and the next I was in the living room watching three of our friends peel Kurt off Laura. I hadn’t known her well. She’d come over with one of the other guys. No one had ever been able to explain why Kurt attacked her rather than me. It was a proven fact that vampires in the grip of blood rush or blood lust always went for those they felt a connection to. Kurt had never met Laura before that night.

The memories washed over me as I examined Kent from his black, shoulder-length hair to his black cowboy boots. He wore black leather pants and a black silk shirt in full, glorious, Goth vamp attire. He should’ve looked ridiculous but his lean musculature pulled it off well enough to be droolworthy. I glanced at Greg’s beaten form and realized Kent didn’t even compare in my book.

“Hello, Kent. I see your hair has gotten longer. You look more like Kurt now,” I replied.

He growled and took a step toward me but Ivan jumped between us. “Back off, dude.”

Kent chuckled and stepped back, pulling his bimbo back with him. She stumbled, but his strong arm kept her from falling face-first onto the coffee table.

“Sure thing, man,” Kent said. “This is your rodeo. Just tell me when to get started.”

Of everyone in the room, I was the only one who had actually been there that night. After a quick discussion, the guys decided everyone should have a few drinks while they let the cameras run for a few minutes. They wanted the action to progress naturally. Whatever the hell that meant. Julian was whispering something to Kent while Ivan gave not-Laura a glass of whiskey. I sat forgotten until an idea formed in my panicked mind.

I stood abruptly from the sofa, drawing everyone’s attention as I reached into the brown paper bag and pulled out a bottle of tequila. Without waiting for permission, I opened it and downed a gulp straight from the bottle. Someone whistled and a couple of the guys laughed, but no one tried to stop me. Perfect.

“Damn, chica, you might want to take it easy on the hard stuff.”

I looked over to find Joe watching me from a couple of feet away. The tequila burned a slow trail to my gut, making me lightheaded but nowhere near drunk yet. My tolerance wasn’t very high, however I never stayed drunk for long. I just needed to put on a good show for them, so I giggled and closed the distance to the skinny vamp.

“Aww, Joe, whatcha worried about?” I asked, careful not to slur yet. He grinned and remained motionless as I threw an arm over his shoulders and took another drink. “Want some?”

Everyone in the room seemed to freeze and I briefly wondered if I’d just done something supremely stupid. Then Joe laughed out loud and the world started spinning again on its normal rotation. He took the bottle from my hand and took two deep swallows before handing it back. I pulled my arm from his shoulders to wipe the mouth of the bottle with the bottom of my T-shirt. Paul and Ben seemed to think that was absolutely hilarious and Joe even grinned. After another swig I raised the bottle above my head and happily called out, “Who’s next?”

An hour later nearly everyone in the room was well on their way to drunk. Paul and Ben had retied Greg’s ankles then joined us in the main part of the room to take shots. Julian was sitting on the sofa with Ivan on his lap, running his hands all over Ivan between drinks. Ivan hadn’t had nearly as much to drink as I knew he could handle, but no one else seemed to be taking inventory. I was sitting beside not-Laura, spilling as much of my drink onto her silk white blouse as I could without being obvious. Kent and Joe were eyeing her breasts as her nipples slowly came into pointed view from the cool liquid.

My plan was simple. Get the men drunk and uncaring before making my way to Greg and untying him. Then once he was on his feet we’d grab not-Laura and make a run for it. Okay, so it wasn’t exactly a brilliant plan, but it was the best my slightly tequila-baffled mind could come up with. The cameras were rolling and the liquor was flowing. I just had to keep my wits about me and wait for the attention on me to lag. Soon Paul and Ben were sitting on the floor in a very undignified and unthreatening manner with no weapons in plain sight. I stood abruptly and looked helplessly around the room.

“I gotta pee,” I called out to no one in particular.

Greg sat up, looking more alert than he had for over an hour, but luckily no one else noticed. Julian pointed lazily at the wall opposite from where Greg sat, while nuzzling Ivan’s neck.

“That way,” came his muffled reply.

I stumbled, only partially an act, in the direction he pointed until I was well out of the pool of light thrown around the living-room scene. There was a screen set up to section off one corner of the large room. Behind it sat a crude toilet and sink that looked as if they hadn’t been cleaned in ten years. I gagged but fought my nausea and stepped behind the screen. There was a large window just above the toilet with jagged bits of broken glass jutting up from the sill. The temptation to take my chances climbing out of the window was nearly overwhelming, but two things stopped me. Greg was still tied up helplessly and the window was shoulder-height. I might be able to pull myself up but seriously doubted I had the strength. I needed Greg’s help.

I peeked around the other end of the screen to see if anyone was watching for me, but luckily not-Laura had decided to dance around the coffee table. The men were too busy trying to talk her out of her top to care what I was doing. I left the crude bathroom and made my way to Greg, staying tight against the wall and in the shadows. It was broad daylight outside but the brightness of the lighted scene made the rest of the room gloomy. Not-Laura kept everyone’s attention off me as I neared Greg. He was watching me with concern in his gaze. I dropped to my knees and yanked off his gag before going to work on the knots at his wrists.

“Are you really drunk?” he whispered.

I shook my head, but abruptly stopped to close my eyes and groan quietly. “A little.”