“Oh, there’s always a choice,” I drawled. “Like me going through you and leaving nothing behind but bloody little smears on the pavement.”
Troy threw back his head and laughed. So did the two vampires, who had moved away from the fence and were now flanking him. Behind them, Catalina eyed me with a wary gaze. She’d heard the rumors about me being the Spider, just like everyone else who worked at the Pork Pit. Well, she was about to see how true they were.
“You must be on something already, flying high, to say something like that,” Troy said. “Maybe you don’t know who I am, baby, but you don’t want to piss off the people I work for.”
This time, my smile was a little more genuine. “Actually, I love pissing people off. Important people, rich people, dangerous people. I’m an equal-opportunity pisser-offer. You know why?”
“Why?” He asked the inevitable question.
“Because the bigger and tougher they think they are, the more they bleed. Just like you will.”
Troy opened his mouth, but I was tired of talking, so I didn’t give him a chance to insult me again. Instead, I snapped my fist up and sucker-punched him in the throat.
Troy’s eyes bulged in surprise, even as he choked and gasped for air. The bags of pills fluttered out of his hand, and he stabbed his finger at me over and over again, in a clear kill-that-bitch-right-now gesture to his friends. The vampires charged at me, but I was ready for them.
The vamp on my right was quicker, and he reached for my neck, probably so he could snap my head to one side and bury his fangs deep in my throat. But I darted forward, turned my body into his, grabbed his right arm, and flipped him over my shoulder. His head cracked against the pavement, and he moaned with pain. He rolled over onto his side, and I kicked him in the ribs. The vampire started dry-heaving. He wouldn’t be getting up anytime soon.
A hand wrapped around my waist from behind as the second vampire yanked me back up against his body. I let him pull me toward him, using his own momentum to help me drive my elbow deep into his stomach. While he gasped for air, I slammed my boot onto the top of his foot, then grabbed his arm and flipped him over my shoulder too. The vamp landed on top of his buddy, making the other man’s head crack against the pavement again. I lashed out and kicked the second man in the ribs too, just so he could have the same stomachache as his friend.
While the two of them were coughing and wheezing, I turned back to Troy. He’d managed to suck enough air back into his lungs to do something supremely stupid: pull a switchblade out of his pants pocket.
I laughed. “A switchblade? Really? Doesn’t your boss have enough money to buy you a gun?”
Troy growled and slashed at me with the weapon. I let him swing at me, easily sidestepping his wild blows.
“Hold still, you bitch!” he screamed.
I grinned again. “Why, all you had to do was ask, sugar.”
I stopped. Troy came at me again, and this time, I knocked the blade out of his hand, then tossed him over my shoulder the same way I had his two friends. And for the third time, I followed it up with a hard kick to the stomach. By the time I finished, the three guys were a moaning, groaning pile on the pavement.
I circled around them, debating whether to keep kicking them, but Catalina stepped forward and held up a hand.
“Gin,” she said. “Don’t. Please.”
I looked at her, then at Troy and his friends. Considering.
If these punks had jumped me in the alley behind the Pork Pit, I would have pulled out one of my knives and finished the job. But I was out in the open in broad daylight, with Catalina here to witness any slicing and dicing that I might do. I tried to avoid traumatizing innocent folks whenever possible. Besides, Troy and his loser drug-dealing friends weren’t worth getting blood on my clothes.
So I gave her a sharp nod. Catalina let out a relieved sigh.
Troy groaned again and rolled off his two friends. He started to get up, but I put my boot against his neck, not hard enough to crush his windpipe but with more than enough pressure to get his attention. Eyes wide, he stared up at me, pain and rage darkening his brown gaze.
“I think we’ve established that you are not, in fact, the prince of this particular kingdom,” I said. “But I am certainly the queen bitch around here. And if I ever see you selling drugs or hassling anybody—anybody at all—then what I did to you today will feel like a foot massage. Are we clear?”
“Whoever the hell you are, you’re going to pay for this,” Troy snarled, his angry gaze cutting to Catalina. “And you too, Cat. I promise you both that.”
Catalina let out another sigh, although this one sounded more sad than relieved.
I removed my boot from Troy’s neck and leaned down so he could see that my gray eyes were even colder and harder than the pavement around us. “My name is Gin,” I growled. “Like the liquor. I’m sure you can figure out the rest. You think you’re such a tough guy? Well, come look me up, and we’ll find out.”
He snarled and grabbed at my ankle, so I kicked him again, even harder than before. After that, the only thing Troy was capable of was wheezing, kissing the asphalt, and desperately trying not to throw up.
I grinned, knowing that my work here was done.
2
I saw a flash of movement out of the corner of my eye, reminding me that I wasn’t alone with my attackers.
I cautiously approached Catalina, who had stepped away from the chain-link fence and was staring down at Troy. Emotions flashed in her hazel eyes, and her lips were pinched tight in what almost looked like regret, although I had no idea why she would feel that way about Troy.
“You okay?” I asked.
Instead of answering, Catalina edged past me and scurried over to where her backpack lay on the cracked asphalt. She scooped the wayward pens, books, and other items back into her bag as fast as she could. Couldn’t blame her for that. I’d want to get away from me too, if I was in her position. Her sharp, hurried motions made the Pork Pit pig pin on the side of her backpack sparkle, like a cartoon character that was laughing maniacally at me.
She was so busy grabbing her stuff that she didn’t realize that her wallet had also fallen out of the bag. I crouched down, plucked the leather off the pavement, and flipped it open.
Catalina Vasquez. Twenty-one. Five foot four. Lived in an apartment at 1369 Lighting Bug Lane.
I let out a low whistle. “Lightning Bug Lane? That’s a nice part of town. Especially for a college student.”
Catalina snatched her wallet out of my hand and shoved it into her backpack. “Just forget it, okay? Forget you saw me, forget about Troy, and I will forget all about this.”
She gestured at the three guys, all of whom were still groaning on the pavement.
Catalina slung her backpack onto her shoulder and surged to her feet. I did the same and stuck my hands into my jacket pockets, trying to look as nonthreatening as possible for someone who had just taken out three bigger, stronger guys without breaking a sweat.
“I didn’t need your help, Gin. I was handling things fine on my own.”
“Yeah,” I agreed. “For someone about to get the stuffing beat out of her by some lowlife drug dealer and his friends.”
Anger flared in her hazel eyes. “I could have handled Troy. I always have before.”
“So you know him, then.”
She gave a sharp jerk of her head.
“Look, if you’re in some sort of trouble—”
“Forget it,” Catalina snapped. “I’m not in trouble, I’m not one of your charity cases, and I don’t need your help, Gin.”
I arched an eyebrow at her vehement tone. At the Pork Pit, Catalina was always positive, calm, cheerful, and upbeat. In all the months she’d worked for me, I’d never heard her so much as raise her voice before, not even when a customer complained, a kid spilled a drink all over the floor, or someone left her a lousy tip. But now she was glaring at me like I was the one who’d threatened her, instead of Troy and his friends.