Vampires Need Not…Apply? (Accidentally Yours #4)(12)
Author: Mimi Jean Pamfiloff

“You’re not dying, Mr. Acero—”

“Puta madre. Leave me the hell alone!”

The nurse sighed. “I’ll send the counselor. Maybe she can talk some sense into you.”

“I don’t need a pinche headshrink!” he screamed at the disappearing footsteps. “And don’t come back!”

“Hi there,” said a soft female voice.

“Who the hell are you?”

“Has anyone ever told you it’s not nice to talk to people like that? I suppose to someone like you, it doesn’t matter.”

Though she spoke sharply with an unrecognizable accent, her voice was actually quite lovely.

Mierda. Probably beautiful, too. The kind of woman who wouldn’t dare give him the time of day now unless it was to help him cross the goddamned street.

“You people don’t give up,” he grumbled. “I said I don’t want a psychiatrist.”

A long, awkward moment passed with complete and utter silence. A breath, sweet and gentle, touched his lips, causing him to shrink back and slam his head against the headboard. “Ow. For f**k sake! What are you doing?”

Had she tried to kiss him?

Silence.

“Hello?” he said.

Silence.

“I know you’re there. This isn’t funny.” He felt her presence vibrate through the room.

A loud sigh gave away her location.

“Who the hell are you?” he asked.

“Do Spaniards always swear so much? Tsk, tsk. So ungentlemanly. As for me? You could say I’m a friend. And by friend, I mean someone who finds your existence repulsive but chooses to take pity on you regardless. You’re kind of like a little bug with a broken leg that gets put outside to live another day instead of being squashed on the spot.”

“Is this some idiotic American reverse psychology bull crap? You tell crippled people they’re disgusting? Well, guess what? I agree with you. I’m useless!”

“What an idiot,” the woman growled. “By the way, there’s nothing wrong with the package—you still have your gorgeous face. And that body. Hell, you’re a crime against female nature and should be shot on the spot for being so beautiful. Sadly, I can’t say the same for what’s on the inside. In fact, you’re disgusting.”

“What the…?”

“Don’t act surprised,” she said. “I know how you use women, then throw them away. And I’m here to warn you: if you continue your cheap man-whoring ways, I will hunt you down and pluck out your gonads. Got it?”

Man whore? Gonads? He had no clue how to respond.

“Let’s get on with the show, shall we, Romeo?” she said.

Who was this woman? She sounded crazier than he did. “And what show would that be?” he asked.

“Does that pathetic brain of yours still work? Because I heard you’re supposed to be smart. You don’t sound so smart to me.”

Santa Maria. She was ruthless. No way was she a doctor or psychologist; she was pinche loca. “Who the hell are you?”

“Shut up before I change my mind. Teen uk’al k’iinam. Teen uk’al yah.” A pair of hands hit his chest, jolting him like a defibrillator.

His back painfully arched and each muscle in his body went rigid with the blistering heat. The air filled with the scent of fresh-cut daisies and fragrant vanilla, and the heaviness lifted from his chest. It was as though a dark cloud had been sieved from his soul. Clean air entered his lungs, giving him quarter to breathe again. Memories, happy ones, flooded his heart—playing hide-and-seek with his brother in the Spanish vineyards during summer, scuba diving in the Mediterranean, the paella at his favorite little restaurant in the town near his home in Penedès.

“What did you do?” he whispered into the abyss.

“I saved your sorry ass, but not so you can continue your dude-slutting. Got it? You will take this chance I’ve given you to do bigger and better things—one of which will be going back to work on that tablet.”

“How do you know about the tablet?” It was a secret.

“I’m a spy for the government. We know everything,” she said as though she was overwhelmed by boredom.

“Here.” She shoved a card in his hand. “Once you’re home, call this number. They’ll send you a tutor and an assistant. And yes, Einstein, the number is written in braille. I’m also having the landlord install a braille phone and set up your computer. The tutor will come to reteach you to read. And before you thank me, you should know that I accidentally killed your cat. I’m really sorry but it…”

Antonio’s mind whirled as the woman apologized profusely for murdering his cat—something about it getting loose and jumping out a window?—and then proceeded to hurl endless, demeaning insults, peppered with every swear word in the English language along with a few choice words in Spanish, too. She was so…damned horrible and bitter! The sourest, most cantankerous female he’d ever met. A thousand sailors could not compete with her sharp edges and unfiltered mouth. And yet, she was strangely alluring.

“So”—she took a breath—“you got it? Comprende, Señor Acero?”

“Uh… yes?”

“Good. My work here is done. Have a happy life, assho—I mean, Antonio.”

“Wait! You’re leaving?” He sat up in bed.

“Sorry. Gotta get back to saving lives and all. And by the way, Tony, we’d all appreciate it if you’d get back to work on the tablet before the world blows up.”

“You’re going to use it to fight terrorists?” he asked.

“Sorry, I can’t divulge that information. It’s a matter of national security. See ya.”

* * *

The moment Ixtab left the room and fell out of earshot, she found the nearest wall and leaned in to prevent herself from having a good, old-fashioned heart attack. She didn’t know what came over her, but the moment she saw that man, she’d lost it. Completely lost it. Had it something to do with the fact that as soon as she set eyes on him, every painful memory of Francisco came crashing down? Or had it more to do with her knowing he slept with all those women?

Ixtab clawed at the black lace fabric over her heart, trying to catch her breath. Dammit, the man even frowned like Francisco and had done that little scrunching thing with his beautiful sable eyebrows when he’d felt confused.

Ixtab sank with her back against the wall, panting and trembling. No. This man wasn’t Francisco, she knew that now, but he was her punishment—karma for all her sins. And she hated him for it.