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    High Stakes
    High Stakes
    High Stakes
    Ebook127 pages1 hour

    High Stakes

    By Ali Winters

    ()

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    About this ebook

    You'd think with a few years as a vampire bounty hunter under my belt, I wouldn't be squeamish when forced to stake a bounty. Don't get me wrong—I won't hesitate when necessary. It's what happens after that gets to me.


    After staking my latest case, all I want is a quick drink and to get out of the sweltering summer heat and enjoy a quiet weekend. Except, after a strong mixed drink has me making questionable decisions.

     

    Like accepting a job to retrieve a family heirloom for the handsome vampire who owns Noctis—a popular nightclub in New Los Angeles.
    It doesn't take long to realize that there's more to him than I first thought, and he's a bit of a cinnamon roll.


    What started as a simple retrieval job soon becomes deadly.


    The secret surrounding the ring is one many would kill to possess. I could end up losing my job or my life. It's a risk I'm willing to take because if the ring ends up in the wrong hands, there's no telling what consequences it might have for the world.

     

    This is a stand-alone, cute, paranormal romance set in an alternate universe.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherRising Flame Press
    Release dateJun 21, 2022
    ISBN9798201258269
    High Stakes
    Author

    Ali Winters

    Ali Winters is the USA Today bestselling and award winning author of The Hunted series, as well as an amazon and international bestselling author. She was born and raised in the Pacific Northwest where she developed her love of nature, animals, and all things green. For as long as she can remember, she’s been mesmerized by the extraordinary world of books and fantasy. There has never been a time when stories were not begging to be told, either by drawing, photography, or writing. With encouragement from one of her favorite authors, she jumped in head first, to pursue the career that had been calling to her since the day she opened her first book. She has a deep love for coffee, tea, warm blankets, dogs, creating art in any medium she can get her hands on, and family. You can find her on these social platforms. Facebook: www.facebook.com/authoraliwinters Twiter: www.twitter.com/aliwinters_ Instagram: www.instagram.com/authoraliwinters Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/author/aliwinters Goodreads: www.goodreads.com/authoraliwinters Bookbub: www.bookbub.com/authors/ali-winters

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      Book preview

      High Stakes - Ali Winters

      Chapter

      One

      Idrop onto the leather stool at the end of the bar and hunch over the black marble counter. Cradling my head in my hands, I massage my temples. The loud music streaming through overhead speakers beats in time with my headache. The earful I got from my boss only made it worse.

      After the day I had, all I want is to take a cold shower then collapse into bed with the AC on full blast. But a drink at Noctis after securing a bounty is one tradition I refuse to give up.

      Following in my brother Robbie’s footsteps, I joined the Vampire Bounty Hunter agency—a subset of the VPD. About five-hundred years ago crime rates skyrocketed, as a result, all bounty agencies—human and supe—became another branch of law enforcement.

      Robbie caught his first bounty after only three days on the job. In my first two months I didn’t close a single case, and he teased me endlessly. Though, if anyone else at the office tried to give me a hard time, big-brother-mode activated, and he shut them down.

      You look like shit, Elle, a familiar voice shouts over the din. Rough case?

      I squint up at River and wrinkle my nose. As usual, he’s flawlessly put together. In comparison, I feel like I’ve been rolling in pig shit all day. It’s no surprise that he’s the most popular bartender here.

      The sleeves of his fitted, white collared are rolled up to his elbows to show off his dark, muscular forearms. Which I’m pretty sure is intentional—the man knows how to work a crowd. His black hair is shorn close to his scalp on the sides, but the top is long, woven into long, thin braids, then styled in an intricate knot.

      You know, even for a vampire, it’s rude for you to look so… I trail off motioning to all of him with my hands.

      River grins, flashing fangs and making his dimples pop. So… sexy?

      I was going to say pretty, I say flatly.

      With blinding-fast reflexes, he reaches out and musses my hair—knowing how much I hate it. I glare, but there’s no heat behind it. The only people have ever gotten away with that are Robbie and River—who is basically a brother.

      I curse his perfect hair. Even thinking about doing the same to him would be a sin. You wouldn’t take crayons to the Mona Lisa.

      You don’t think I’m sexy?

      I scrunch up my face. Please, never say that to me again.

      River has been a constant in my life for as long as I can remember. He and Robbie were inseparable growing up. River has always been family. Hell, until I was seven, I thought he really was our brother. After River turned, nothing changed between the three of us. Three years ago, when Robbie died, that family tie helped us through the grief.

      What can I get you?

      A glass of merlot, I say flatly. It’s the same thing I always order. What can I say? I’m a creature of habit.

      River gives me a look that says, why do I even ask? then walks away. While I wait, I yank out my hair tie and smooth out the strands, then put it back up.

      I slump in my seat. It’s as hot as Lucifer’s left nut sack in here. Even with cool air pumping through vents, it barely makes a dent with a crowd this size in June.

      Vampire bounty hunters have one basic rule. Bring the bounty in alive—unless they pose a threat to us or innocent bystanders. I hate it. The one, and only time, I hesitated to stake a bounty, a small coven of green witches was nearly killed in the vamp’s escape attempt.

      Staking a vamp is never a pleasant job, but that piece of blood sucking trash refused to come in easy. Nope. Curtis was pissed until he realized that the bounty forced my hand when he tried to attack a shifter and her troll boyfriend.

      I can’t help if the perp would rather meet the sharp end of a stake than do sixty years for turning someone without the proper license—a charge that is typically only three years. But when a human is turned without their consent, it’s a mandatory minimum sentence of sixty years. Entirely too light if you ask me. Sixty years is a drop in the bucket for someone who can potentially live forever.

      In New Los Angeles, if a vamp wants to turn a human, they need to go through the process. File the correct paperwork, wait the appropriate amount of time, pay the fees to the L.V.R.D. (Local Vampire Registration Department) and blood banks, then obtain a mental evaluation for the turnee to make sure they won’t go on a massive murdering rampage… Then, assuming everything checks out, and after the six-month waiting period has passed, a license is granted. It’s a lot of hoops, but it’s prevented countless deaths since becoming law.

      My phone vibrates in my pocket, startling me when an old disco tune blasts obnoxiously with it. The sound clashes with the club’s music, which earns a scowl from a nearby fae woman chatting up an elf.

      Curtis thinks it’s hilarious to randomly change it when I’m not looking. His dad-joke style of humor is strong. If he wasn’t practically married to his job as head of the VBH agency, I’m sure he would have had a family and a handful of kids.

      I check the notification, and groan when I see who the message is from. Before reading the text, I turn the sound off.

      Boss Man: You all right, Darling?

      Anytime I’m in a position where it’s die or exterminate my bounty, he checks up on me. Curtis blames himself for Robbie’s death since he assigned him to the case. Even though we all know the risk comes with the job.

      Me: I’m fine, Curtis. At Noctis.

      Me: P.S. Stop changing my ringtone.

      Then before he can reply, I send one more text.

      Me: And yes, I’m taking a cab home.

      A few minutes pass without the usual okay reply. I stare at the darkened screen, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

      My phone buzzes with another text.

      Boss Man: Got another case.

      Me: Already?

      Me: What the fuck is going on?

      It’s the middle of June, and vampires are usually idle until mid-September. So why is there an uptick in activity? Vamps are mostly inactive between the spring and fall equinoxes. This year is busier than normal.

      I hit reply and type out a quick response.

      Me: Send it over. I’ll take a look.

      River sets a large drink down onto the bar top in front of me with a clunk. A mix of bright orange-red slush fills the tornado glass. Definitely not a merlot. What fruity monstrosity is this?

      This isn’t what I ordered, I shout over the music.

      I know, River says with a suspicious grin. He leans forward and brings his face within inches of mine, jabbing a thumb over his shoulder. It’s a gift from Mr. Devlin.

      Looking up, I squint toward the club owner. Standing in the darkened corner on the mezzanine, his face is hidden by shadows. He casually leans on the metal railing, watching. I might not be able to make out the details of his face, but his gaze is nearly tangible.

      Try it, River says, pulling my attention back to him. You might like it. And with that, he returns to his customers.

      This better not be spiked with blood, I mutter under my breath as I lift the fruity drink and sniff. It smells good.

      An olive bounces off my forehead and lands on the bar top before rolling to the floor. I make a face at River and he arches a brow in playful warning. Of course, he heard me.

      I swipe away the olive juice with the back of my hand, then I glance at my phone—still nothing.

      This drink isn’t my typical choice, but it’s cold. I take a sip and… dear sweet baby Jesus, that’s delicious. It tastes like a slushy, and if I didn’t know better, I’d say there wasn’t any alcohol in it. This time I take a long draw, just shy of giving myself a brain freeze.

      I knew you would like it. River returns, gently waving a glass of merlot in question.

      It suddenly seems less appealing. For the most part, I prefer a quiet night at home with a glass—or several—of wine. Something like this fruity concoction is more effort than I have in me after most assignments.

      It’s good. What is it? I ask, leaning down for another drink and waving away the wine.

      Sex on the beach—blended. It’s better that way.

      Inhaling a sharp breath, some

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