Urban Extinction: A New Adult Paranormal Fantasy Read online

  Urban Extinction

  K.N. Lee

  Calinda B

  Contents

  1. Egan

  2. Livia

  3. Egan

  4. Livia

  5. Egan

  6. Livia

  7. Egan

  8. Livia

  9. Egan

  10. Egan

  11. Egan

  12. Livia

  13. Livia

  14. Egan

  15. Egan

  16. Egan

  17. Egan

  18. Livia

  19. Egan

  20. Livia

  21. Livia

  22. Egan

  23. Egan

  24. Egan

  25. Livia

  26. Livia

  27. Egan

  28. Egan

  29. Egan

  30. Egan

  Untitled

  Published by Sumner McKenzie, Inc.

  Ebook Edition

  Copyright ©2017 K.N. Lee and Calinda B

  All Rights Reserved.

  License Notes: This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people, but it can be lent according to the retailer’s coding. If you would like to give this book to another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to an online retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

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  Egan

  Egan scanned the club, trying to determine who would be her victim tonight. Scowling, she glanced over her shoulder at the good-looking werewolf lurching away from her.

  He’d tried to kiss her. She’d kicked him in the shin, grabbed his nuts and sent him on his way. The supes always sniffed her out in places like this. Her job forced her to blend in and tonight she was on the clock.

  I hate stake-outs.

  The werewolf turned toward someone. Their heads fell together as they spoke. He lifted his hand and pointed at her. His mouth formed the word, “Bitch.”

  She laughed. Good. Maybe word will spread. She turned her attention back to look for her partner in crime—the lithe brunette beauty known as Livia.

  Maybe I’ll flame-bomb the next guy who comes on to me. Give him a facelift with my fingers. She flexed and closed her hands, itching to let her dark fire power loose.

  The throbbing blue-lit atmosphere at the club known as Akeldama sizzled with bump and grind excitement. The place was packed wall to wall with writhing bodies. Most were looking to get laid, get loose, or get wasted, in no particular order. Acrobatic dancers hung suspended from the ceiling, wearing little more than G-strings. They maneuvered up and down thick, white ropes like gymnasts, high above the heads of the crowd.

  A house beat powered through the speakers. Egan pressed her fingertips into her ears, but nothing could hold out the thump, thump, thump of the driving bass. The sound made her bones vibrate and her heart quiver in her chest. She kept her jaw clenched to keep her teeth from clacking.

  She lifted her gaze to the television behind the bar. Why they had a T.V. here in this din made no sense. A celebrity news feed showed some sort of gala auction. Pictures of happy local celebrities flashed by…most people she didn’t know. That socialite chick…what was her name?...Alicia something?... flashed by, laughing. She held out a pen toward a giant checkbook. The local congressman stood behind her, grinning stupidly.

  His son Jason stood next to him, next to his fiancée. The fiancée scowled at her soon to be husband, then, stalked off screen. Their upcoming nuptials were said to be the event of the year.

  Egan scoffed. Rich people.

  She leaned against the solid gold bar-top, scanning the crowd. Come on, Liv. Where are you? She tried to access their telepathic connection, but was met with a big, blank wall. It’s a one-way street with her. She’s got the crazy mad telepathy skills and if she doesn’t want to let me in, there’s nothing I can do.

  She eyed the people dancing, the couples heading toward the exit, and the few sitting at tables, trying to converse. Keeping one hand over her ear, she tipped her glass of top shelf Scotch to her lips, pretending to partake. She needed to keep her head in the game and her wits about her. Then, thinking better of that idea, she lifted the glass high and tossed the burning liquid down her throat, signaling the bartender for another.

  It’s only my third, she reasoned.

  Some jackass bumped into her. The glass flew from her hand, skidded across the counter, and crashed behind the bar.

  “Hey!” She spun around, ready to send a blowtorch of flames into the asshole who bumped her, but, he already soldiered on, shoving through the crowd.

  Her gaze landed on Livia, a few feet away. She craned her head to get a better look through the crowd.

  Livia stood with her side against the wall, dressed in a dark purple skirt barely covering her butt-cheeks, sparkling silver stiletto heels, and a glittery sleeveless shirt. The shirt hugged her body so tight her full cleavage threatened to spill over the top into the hands of whomever happened to be in front of her, ready to play catch.

  I sure hope that’s our target. She craned her head to get a better look.

  A man stood in front of her. His hands, held at chest level, looked all twitchy, ready to fondle Livia’s globe-like breasts, should they spring free. He tucked something small and white between Livia’s breasts. Then, he had the gall to pat the place where he’d tucked the packet.

  We’ve got him.

  Livia’s thoughts rang through Egan’s mind. Did you pay him?

  Yep. Transaction complete.

  The corners of Egan’s mouth turned up ever so slightly.

  There was no way in hell Livia could hear Egan through the din of techno-music, but her head lifted just the same. Her gaze met Egan’s. A subtle lift of her chin indicated she was about to head outside with the loser in front of her.

  Egan’s brows stitched together. She spread her arms, palms up, as if to say, “Are you sure?”

  Livia nodded slightly.

  As the she and the man slipped away, Egan’s gaze landed on a couple at a nearby table.

  The girl, a pretty, short-haired blonde, sat in the guy’s lap, straddling him, kissing him hungrily. One of the guy’s hands kept trying to shove between them and wriggle into her panties.

  The girl, not missing a beat in the lip lock, kept tugging his hand away.

  The whole scene kind of looked like a rated-R wrestling match. Any second now, the rating would change to triple X if the guy had his way.

  The girl tore her lips from his. The pair eyed each other.

  Egan cocked her head. Even in the dim club light the guy appeared pale, as if he’d been white-washed. Isn’t that Jason Chambers, the congressman’s son? So much for his upcoming nuptials. Egan sidled closer, pushing through the dancers.

  The pair resumed their mouth sucking, their faces grinding against one another.

  Egan’s nose wrinkled. Nothing about their kisses looks pleasurable.

  When they peeled from one another again, the guy looked even paler, like his blood had been replaced with white paint.

  “What the…?” Egan muttered.

  Someone stepped in her way, blocking her view.

  She lifted her gaze. A tall, swarthy-looking vampire stared down at her.

  “Hey,” she said. She tried to peer around him to find the couple again but there were too many bodies in the way now.

  He leaned down, crowding her. “Looking for someone?” he said loudly.

&nb
sp; His lips pressed way too close to her ear. He eased back, revealing a wide lecherous grin complete with a glimpse of fang.

  “Leaving,” she yelled over the music.

  “Want to know what the name of the club means?” he asked, like reciting his best pick-up line.

  “What?” She blinked at him as if he were an idiot. “Akeldama? It means ‘field of blood.’ Something you’ll be in if you don’t get the fuck out of my way.”

  He looked truly crestfallen.

  Asshole. It’s printed on every menu.

  Her fingers itched to let loose her destructive fire power. Making fists to hold it at bay, she pushed past him to head for the back exit. She strong-armed the back door, grateful for the cool night air and the hum of city noises replacing the din. A residual ringing filled her head. She shook it to clear it. Then, moving quickly, she scanned the parking lot for Livia. There she is.

  Livia was pressed against the handsome brown-haired guy. They stood against the side of Egan’s glossy flame-red Corvette.

  Egan couldn’t get a good look at his face. Still, she figured it to be their target. Livia always delivered.

  The ‘Vette was parked at an angle, taking up two and a half parking spaces so no one could park next to it.

  You better not scratch my car, Liv.

  Egan increased her stride.

  The guy’s hands were on Livia’s face. He slanted his head, lips parted, no doubt preparing to go in for some marathon kissing.

  Egan stepped up her pace.

  When she’d nearly reached them, Livia leaned in close to the man’s ear and said, “She was only nineteen.”

  The guy’s head jerked back and he scowled. “What? Who was?”

  That’s him! That’s Renner Müntz. A surge of victory pumped through her. She gave a nod to Livia, trying to suppress her smile. She reeled in her expression. “The woman you killed,” Egan said. “What was her name again, Liv?”

  “Andrea,” Livia answered. She shoved away from Renner a little too forcefully. “Andrea Winters. She was going to college, right here in New York. Had a twin sister who loved her dearly. And, oops, she OD’d on the shit you shoved into her vein. Isn’t that right, Egan?” She jammed her fingers between her breasts and fished out the drugs he’d shoved there earlier, waving it in his face.

  “Rumor has it,” Egan said, crowding him from behind.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Renner said, straightening his shirt.

  “Want to bet?” Livia jabbed her finger into his chest. “She was wearing a red dress. Little black ballerina flats she’d bought for the date. She was so excited. You were her dream guy. She told her best friend, Ceci, about it. She…”

  Renner cut her off. “How do you know…”

  She interrupted him right back. “It’s a gift.”

  He lowered his head and sprinted past them. Livia held up her hand like a policewoman guiding traffic. His foot fell flat against the ground.

  Renner strained to move his legs. “What the…?

  “It’s not my only gift.” Livia smiled.

  The whites of his eyes showed as he reached for something in his jacket. When he pulled back his hand, he held a gun-metal gray Glock-17.

  “Is this all you’ve got?” Egan said, coolly.

  She stepped toward him, holding her hand up in a similar manner as Livia had done.

  The metal instantly glowed white-orange.

  Renner screamed and shook his hand.

  The gun stayed glued to his fingers.

  “What are you freaks?” he said, in a girlish sounding, high-pitched voice.

  “That’s so manly. His voice gets you hot, Liv?” Egan said.

  “You know it. I’m so wet,” Livia said, before snickering.

  Egan flicked her hand.

  He turned the gun toward his own face, staring at it with eyes so wide it looked like his eyeballs would pop out and roll free on the asphalt.

  “Liv’s not the only one with talents,” Egan said. She tugged her wallet from her skin-tight jeans. Opening the snake-skin billfold, she held her shiny badge at the man’s eye level. “You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to speak to an attorney, and to have an attorney present during any questioning.”

  Livia whipped out her cellphone from some hidden pocket in her too tight garment, and pressed a button.

  In minutes, lights flashed and the police—the real police—the kind with guns and training—sped into the parking lot. Two uniformed men jumped from their car to retrieve the prisoner.

  The two officers forced side-eye glances at them as they proceeded to handcuff the perp. With barely a nod, they ushered him into their police car and took off in the direction of the station.

  “You’re welcome, Officer Dick,” Egan said as the vehicle disappeared.

  “Happy to help, Officer Asshole,” Livia said.

  They both stared in the direction the police vehicle had gone, their arms folded across their chests.

  “Pricks,” Egan said. “They could at least thank us.”

  “Or acknowledge us,” Livia said. “Honestly, I feel invisible when they’re around.”

  “Right? We do their job for them, they get all the credit and they don’t have the decency to say ‘atta girl’ to us?” Egan shook her head.

  “You look fantastic, by the way. Did I tell you that?” Livia said, eying Egan’s outfit. “Love the skinny jeans on you.”

  “Thanks,” Egan said. “You look pretty hot yourself.”

  “Why, thank you,” Livia said. She spun in a circle, her long, dark hair swirling around her. When she came to a stop, she said, “Love what you did with your hair.”

  “Do you?” Egan patted her red-tipped, pale blonde hair. “Does it look like flames? That’s what I was going for.”

  “Totally,” Livia exclaimed. “You look like your head is an inferno.”

  She spread her fingers wide and made an explosive sound.

  “So even if I don’t have my stupid dark fire skills mastered, I can look the part, right?” Egan said.

  “Exactly,” Livia said, agreeably.

  “I thought you were going to hook up with him for sure,” Egan said, fishing her car keys from her pocket. She punched the unlock button and the car doors blipped open. She grinned at Livia.

  Livia scoffed. “Ew. Total douchebag.”

  Egan’s right eyebrow arched. “Right. Like you haven’t hooked up with worse? And won’t do it again?” She shook her head. We’re both a couple of train wrecks. How we got jobs with the NYPD is anyone’s guess. Looking at Livia, she said, “Let’s go before you decide to find a man and fuck him. I’m not in the mood for rescuing you. I’ve been warding off vampires and other supernatural douchebags for the last hour. And then, let’s see to our next job.”

  Livia

  Back at the 12th Precinct, in Midtown, Livia twirled her long, dark hair around a finger, her eyes scanning the report she’d just written up for any errors. While their newest perp was being booked, she and Egan had piles of paperwork to tackle.

  Inside the elegant, nineteenth century High Victorian Gothic Cottage, modern lighting made it easy to read the report in her hands. It was a welcome change from a couple of years ago, when she and Egan hunched over small desk lamps. The precinct building had been remodeled recently, upgrading the technology to current times. The facade now featured five stories of bullet proof glass. Still, the building retained the smells, creaks, aches, and pains of its time. Sometimes, Livia swore she caught the whiff of tobacco, or scent of bourbon emanating from the upstairs offices. Laws banning drink or smoke inside places of business had been in place for decades. She even bet her life she smelled hay and horses, who used to be housed in barns next door when equines were commonly used for transportation.

  “I swear, Lt. Danvers must think what we do is easy,” Egan said, spinning in her chair behind her desk to face Livia. “
He has to cut us some slack. I mean, we do all the work getting the criminals. Can’t we get some interns in here to do the paperwork for us? I could use an assistant.”

  Livia smirked. “Sure, I’ll deliver your demands.”

  Egan perked up. “Would you? Great! You go and talk to him.”

  “What? I was joking.”

  “Go on,” Egan said, nodding to the lieutenant’s closed office door across the room. “Give him a piece of our mind.”

  Our mind?

  “Why me?” Livia’s head jerked.

  “Well, for one, he’s a hard ass and seems to favor you.”

  “And, what else?”

  Egan blinked. Her eyes narrowed briefly before a smile crossed her face. “I guess that’s it. Come on, Liv. Do it. For me.”

  Sighing, Livia pushed away from the desk. The truth was, she’d do anything for Egan. She had saved her more times than she could count.

  “You’re lucky I love you,” Livia mumbled.

  Egan grinned. “Love you more! Now, run along and use your persuasion skills like a good girl.”

  Livia gave Egan a little shove as she walked past her, heading down the aisle of empty desks. Most of the detectives got to go home at reasonable hours, but she and Egan weren’t most detectives. They were something entirely…different.

  When she reached Lt. Danvers’ door, she knocked and glanced over her shoulder. Egan watched her from across the office.

  Livia chuckled, shaking her head, and turned as the door opened.

  Lt. Danvers took up the entire doorway. Six-foot-five, in his late thirties, he looked like a linebacker. His vivid green eyes spoke of youthful passion, yet the lines around them gave him an air of authority worthy of a man who had been doing the job for eons.