Aug 03, K. Rachel works as a medical technician in the City morgue on the night shift. Not the situation you want when finally locating the man of your dreams. Convincing herself that a "thread" of pulse MUST have gone undetected by both her and the EMTs who brought him in, Rachel does fast mental work trying to somehow apply logic to a situation that seems impossible, if not completely creepy.
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Order audiobook at Amazon. He could only "turn" one human in his lifetime, and most of his kind reserved that power for creating a life mate. If he turned the wrong woman. But what choice did he have? He had to save Rachel Garrett.
To save hers he would make her immortal. When I think of vampires, I think old world. And computers are definitely new world. Turning a three hundred year old vampire into the creator of the hottest vampire computer game on the market seemed like the perfect thing to do. Chapter One "Yo, Rach. You want anything? She had been bouncing between the chills and fever since arriving at work two hours ago. At the moment, she was in a hot phase.
She was obviously coming down with something nasty. Her gaze slid to the clock on the wall. It was almost one. Two hours down, six to go. Rachel almost groaned. Six more hours. You feeling all right, Rach? You look like hell. Men could be so tactful. Just go on. But you might want to maybe sit down or something till I get back.
Tony was a nice guy. A little weird maybe. For instance, he insisted on talking like a Goodfellow from the Bronx when he had been born, raised, and never left Toronto. Dale and Fred. Nice guys. A couple of EMTs whom she rarely saw. They generally delivered their clientele to the hospital alive. Of course some died after arriving, but it was usually after these two had already been and gone, which left the chore of bringing down the patient to someone else.
This one must have died in transit for them to be delivering him. Tony had made it more than plain that she was starting to look as unwell as she felt. Thought we got a beat before transporting from the scene, but might have been wrong. For the record, he died in transit. Doc Westin pronounced him when we got here and asked us to bring him down. She rolled it back to rest next to the EMTs padded gurney.
Rachel signed the necessary papers, then walked back as the men finished shifting the body to the table. The sheet that had covered him for his trip through the hospital was now missing.
She paused and stared at the latest addition to the morgue. He was a handsome man, no more than thirty, with dirty blond hair. Rachel rarely thought of her clients as having at one time been living, breathing beings. It would make her job impossible to do if she considered that the bodies she worked with were mothers, brothers, sisters, grandfathers, etc. The fact that she was now sitting was a bit startling and made her glance around. The men had obviously rolled the wheeled desk chair over and urged her into it.
Both EMTs were now hovering over her, worry on their faces. How are you feeling? Chills, then fever. Dale placed the back of a hand to her forehead and frowned. Maybe you should go home. And if it was bad, she hoped that it would burn out as quickly as it had hit.
Rachel hated being sick. Yes, I might go home early when Tony gets back. In the meantime, I signed for the body and everything. Dale accepted the clipboard, then exchanged an uncertain glance with Fred. Both of them appeared reluctant to leave her alone. You two go on. If you faint and hit your head Rachel watched them leave, then sat still for a moment as she had promised. Her gaze slid to the body on the gurney. A shooting vic. Those were rare enough. It meant there was a shooter out there running around.
It also meant that this man had become her most important customer. At least, not until she had removed the bullet from this guy for forensics. She was the head coroner at night; it was her responsibility. Straightening her shoulders, she stood and moved to the table to peer down at her newest customer.
He really had been a looker. It seemed a shame that he was dead. But then it always seemed to be a shame when people died. Shrugging such thoughts aside, Rachel grabbed the rolling tray of equipment she would need and pushed it next to the steel table where her newest client lay.
She looked him over once more before setting to work. The EMTs had ripped his shirt open, then laid it back across his chest. He was still fully clothed and in a rather sharp- not to mention expensive- designer suit. Obviously a man of taste and means," she commented, admiring the cut of his clothes and the body beneath it. Once the fabric fell away, she paused to take in what was revealed. Normally, Rachel would have simply moved on to remove his pants and underwear if there were any, but the fever was affecting her strength.
Her arms felt all rubbery and her fingers were limp and awkward. With any luck, by then Tony might be back to help. Setting the shears aside, she reached up to swing both the overhead light and the microphone directly over his chest, then switched the microphone on. Her gaze scanned the information in search of a name.
He was a John Doe. Well dressed, but without identification. It made her wonder if that had been the reason behind the shooting. Her gaze flickered back to the man. It seemed a real shame to kill a man for nothing more than a couple of bucks. It was a crazy world. Rachel set the paperwork back and returned to flick the microphone back on. Very healthy was an understatement, Rachel decided as she searched for identifying features. John Doe was built like an athlete. He had a flat stomach, a wide chest, and muscular arms to go with his handsome face.
After checking him out again, then a third time, she moved closer to examine him more minutely. Rachel picked up one arm, then the other and lifted them to examine the underside of each before stepping back with a frown. No scars or birthmarks. There was nothing that could be considered an identifying feature on the man. Other than the gunshot wound over his heart, the man was completely flaw free.
Even his fingers were unmarred. Usually there were at least a couple of scars; an appendicitis scar, or small ones on the hands from past wounds.
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Yogore Is it seriously just me that is icked out when a very hungry vampire woman goes ,ove on a guy and starts thinking about actually eating him like a sausage? Then he kidnaps your lifemate and stakes her in the heart and you are still going to let him live? Action packed- in the first chapters people are shot, people are blown up- definitely covers that and more! Doc Westin pronounced him when we got here and asked us to bring him down. Now it began to darken.