Dave Carver (Book 1): Thicker Than Blood Read Free Page A

moment, he wasn’t sure what he was looking at. But then his brain caught up and he felt his heart sink.
    Dave and Bill were on their knees in the mud, facing a line of tanned men with tattered clothes and machine guns. One of them pointed his rifle at Ian and said, “Get over there and kneel. Hands over your head.”
    Behind Ian four men burst out of the tree line. All of them were frightfully skinny and dressed in threadbare rags. One of them held a long-barreled hunting rifle. The other three held leases. On the other end of each leash was a beast that looked something like a bloodhound. The dogs were each about two feet tall and heavy with muscle. Their mouths hung open, revealing needle-sharp teeth. Thick, clear liquid dripped from their jaws. Like the vampires that had killed Michelle, each of their eyes were solidly, completely black. One of them strained against its lead, barking and snapping.
    The man with the rifle spoke to the others. “Did you see their swords? These are knights of the Round Table.”
    “Here? The Round Table is not allowed in this jungle.”
    Bill arched an eyebrow at Dave. The younger man frowned and shook his head.
    “What should we do with them?”
    “Take their weapons for a start.”
    One of the men stalked towards the prisoners. Bill kept his hands above his head as the gunman unbuckled the sword-belt around his waist and tossed it over his shoulder. Dave, though, threw a punch as the man approached. He missed and much of his body weight carried him to the muddy ground. Chupacabras howled in rage. The man cracked him across the face with the stock of his rifle. Dave hit the ground moaning. He came up a second later, though, blood trickling from a cut on his forehead, his hair hanging in his face.
    “Stop,” the man who was obviously the leader of the gunmen said. “Roberto will want these two alive.”
    “What about this one?” someone said, putting a rough hand on Ian’s head. “He’s no knight.”
    “Roberto does not wish to be troubled with matters such as these.” The leader looked at Ian now. His eyes were a dark green, not black like the vampires’ had been, but they were nearly as devoid of emotion. A chupacabra barked. The man smiled. “Give him to the dogs.” 
    Ian screamed as the hounds closed in on him. Their jaws flashed and closed around his throat, but only once apiece. His clinical mind raced back to his documentary on El Chupacabra: They drained the blood from their victims through a single tiny hole in the neck. These dogs were going to suck him dry.
    Ian watched for a moment as Dave and Bill were stood up, their hands still above their heads, and marched into the woods. The last thing he saw was the column of gunmen disappearing into the jungle. The last thing he heard was the snarls of a vampire-dog in his ear. The last thing he thought was his children’s names.
    Chapter 2
    Nine months later
    The door to my apartment was unlocked.
    I frowned and shifted my newly purchased case of Miller Light in my arms. I never left the house without making sure the door was locked and bolted. Even if I didn’t live in a particularly nasty section of Chelsea, Manhattan, or grown up in the South Bronx during the nineties, I’d never leave home with the door unlocked. If the last ten years had taught me anywhere, it was that you’re never as safe as you think you are. Sometimes even not in your own home.
    Someone—or something —was in my apartment.
    The case of beer landed on the floor with the clanking rattle of glass bottles. My right hand dropped across my body, reaching for my left hip. It grasped empty air. The muscle memory hadn’t yet caught on to the fact that I was unarmed these days. Whatever was inside my apartment, I’d have to take care of it without my sword.
    I pushed the door open and stared into the dimly lit apartment. It was dark inside. Quiet. Peaceful. Seemingly empty. My palms started sweating. My heartbeat sped up. For God’s sake, I was