X-Rated Bloodsuckers (Felix Gomez)
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Felix has survived Operation Iraqi Freedom, being turned into a vampire, and a ravenous horde of nymphomaniacs. Now he faces his toughest task ever—navigating the corrupt world of Los Angeles politics to solve the murder of a distinguished young surgeon turned porn star. But both human and vampire alike have reasons to want the secret to stay buried. . .
focused my attention back to Cragnow and studied his aura. “So where’s Katz?” Cragnow sipped his drink and licked the froth from his lips. “I don’t know.” Not a ripple of emotion disturbed his aura. His reaction remained too steady, the supernatural version of a liar’s straight face. “Enlighten me, Felix. What’s your interest in Katz?” “I’m a private detective. She hired me.” “Hired you for what? To play hide-and-seek in Los Angeles?” “She wants me to find who killed Roxy Bronze.” Cragnow
bowling balls, and pins. Coyote removed his sunglasses and so did I. A red bulb illuminated the corridor. An oily, mechanical odor from the pin machines grew more intense the farther we walked down the incline. At the back of the hall, Coyote stopped before a metal cabinet. Dents and graffiti covered the front. Coyote opened the double doors of the cabinet and ducked inside. The back of the cabinet swung away. Coyote stepped down, as if descending stairs. I followed him, taking care to shut
individual—meaning me—knew these agendas, then the conspiracy behind Roxy’s murder would unravel. And still nothing new about the real reason I was in Los Angeles: to unmask vampire–human collusion. I paused beside a newspaper vending machine on the opposite corner from Trixie’s. The bistro was set back from the sidewalk to allow generous seating under the front awning. A white fence bounded the al fresco area. Customers entered between two trellises thick with roses. Sliding my sunglasses
I studied Cragnow, my talons extended and my kundalini noir flexed. I should crash this party and settle the score. Yet something was wrong. Cragnow had to know I could come after him. So where were his guards? As clever as I thought I was, this infiltration seemed too easy. Cragnow faced Niphe and Rosario. They nodded and laughed. What was the joke? Me? A vampire—his aura gave away his supernatural identity—who looked like a running back entered the scene. He had an African-American
crashed into the wolf clutching my hand. The wolf let go and spun about, its jaws snapping at empty air. The blur settled into the shape of a coyote, its jaws a flailing set of teeth. The wolf hunched its shoulders, the hair on its neck bristling. It lunged forward. The coyote was in front of the wolf one instant, then beside it the next. The coyote clamped onto the wolf’s throat. The two of them snagged forelimbs and rolled into a ball of fur and orange auras. The other wolf tugged at my