Three Hours (Seven Series Book 5) by Dannika Dark Page A

business cards with telephone numbers written on them.
    I lifted the cards and stuffed them in my purse. Dean had already cleaned out the other girl’s locker, so we didn’t have any evidence to go on.
    “Walk me to my car,” I said, latching on to Fawn’s arm.
    She smacked on her gum while we strolled across the parking lot to my Trans Am.
    I unlocked the door and tossed my things on the passenger seat. “Make sure you do the same and have someone walk you out.”
    “You don’t have to tell me twice. I’m not going to get myself diced up by some sicko who worships Hannibal Lecter.” She spun on her heel and swung her hips like a pendulum as she made her way back inside.
    After the long drive home, I parked in front of my apartment and sat in the car for a few minutes looking at Lola’s picture. The light from the carport let me stare into her sweet eyes, and I thought about the tears that would fill them each night when she went to bed, waiting to be tucked in and wondering if her mommy would be there in the morning.
    I opened my clutch and removed the money I planned to give to Reno. Being a creature of habit, I knew that the moment I stepped inside my apartment I’d toss my purse on the sofa and forget about the money. So I gripped the bills in my hand and decided to spread it out in front of the coffee maker before going to bed. That way, I’d see it first thing in the morning.
    I strolled across the grass on the stretch of land that led to my apartment. Our manager was too cheap to build a walkway from my building to the parking lot. Instead, a worn path ran from the stairwell to the mailboxes.
    The grass made a soft whisper beneath my shoes, and I slowed my pace when a noise in the darkness grew louder. Heavy footsteps trampled toward me from behind, and before I could look over my shoulder, a body tackled me with such force that it knocked the wind out of me when I hit the ground.
    He sat on my back and grabbed a fistful of my hair, yanking it so hard that it forced my head back.
    “What are you doing?” I grunted, trying to push myself up. “Get off me, you brute!”
    “Hold her still,” another man said.
    A hand appeared in front of my face, holding a slender metal object that resembled an instrument a human doctor might use. It was black and long with a round bulb at the tip.
    “Keep your mouth shut and this’ll be over real quick,” he said.
    A click sounded when he flipped it on and he held it directly in front of my right eye. A fast series of strobe lights began flashing in a chaotic rhythm, and I panicked. The right speed of strobe caused Shifters to change uncontrollably. They were prohibited in clubs unless the owner regulated the flicker rate so it wouldn’t cause shifting.
    A high intensity of pulsing light blinded my right eye, and I heard a snapping sound as it continued. Shutting my eyes was useless, and I couldn’t loosen his grip on my hair.
    A tremor rolled through my body, and my black panther clawed to the surface.
    ***
     
    Wheeler awoke before dawn and spent three hours at his desk reading. He didn’t have a library of books because he preferred reading the news. It was more or less entertainment, since news among humans had no relevance in their lives for the most part. But then he stumbled across a local article about a suspected kidnapping. A witness driving by Club Sin had spotted a woman struggling with someone in a van. Wheeler read and dissected the article three times. He knew Club Sin. It was located in the Breed district just down the road from the Blue Door. According to the article, the manager had made a statement that all his dancers were accounted for.
    Of course he had. If there was one thing they all knew, it was to keep their mouths shut around human law enforcement. Immortals were far too intelligent to reveal themselves to humans who, out of fear, would attempt in vain to exterminate them. Perhaps some immortals loved the comforts humans provided them,