Between a Rock and a Hard Place by Mina Carter Read Online (FREE)
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“Hello? Is anybody there?”
As soon as the words were out of my mouth and echoing around the emptiness of the deserted office, I kicked myself. I’d seen more than my fair share of horror films in my time. Including the ones where I screamed at the too-stupid-to-live heroines that of course there was someone there. It was as though the question itself was a circular prophecy. Where the very act of asking ensured that there would be.
Without saying anything else, I reached for the emergency kit located down the side of my desk, my hand finding the iron banded baton with ease as my other slid open the desk drawer to get at the Glock concealed there. Long gone were the days where you could just wave a gun and frighten any intruder off. Ten years ago, everything that went bump in the night had not only come out of the closet, but out from under the bed, grave and nightmares too. These days, our anti-intruder kits contained silver for weres, iron for the fey, and garlic and stakes for the vamps, amongst other things. I’d never asked what the Pokémon was for…because I seriously didn’t want to know.
Thumbing the safety off the Glock, I gripped the stake in white-knuckled fingers, pointed down along my forearm. The entire staff had gone through hand-to-hand training 101 with the elite of the armed forces, and that was before the real combat training had even begun. “How to kill a werewolf in ten gruesome and violent ways” had gone down as a treat in the office, and “Staking for Success” had been a laugh, despite the obvious marketing speak in the title.
It was just a pity the instructor had known fuck-all about staking vamps. Given his impressive waistline, I’d suspected he was far more familiar with steaks of a different type. After we’d done the stuff the government recommended, we got the big boys in. No one could teach you how to kill a vampire better than a vamp, and combat training with the were we’d brought in had given me a healthy dose of respect for the furries.
I kicked my heels off before I padded toward the front of the office—all the while aware that if Miriam had forgotten to lock the front door again, and it was a member of the public, I was going to look a right twat. I’d probably end up facing a charge of assault and battery, or at the very least, scaring the crap out of a poor, unsuspecting criminal. Be still my bleeding heart.
The office was L-shaped with my desk hidden away in the corner. I liked it that way. It meant I could plaster my desktop in pictures of scantily clad men without anyone whining at me. Nothing worse than an office do-gooder preaching about sexual discrimination, or harassment, or whatever posting half-nekkid pictures of hunky men on your desktop was called. Miriam called it scandalous, and after the third lecture I’d gotten on the disintegrating morals of the younger generation, I’d rearranged the office. It was that—or risk going postal with a stapler and a letter opener.