Catching Dragos
by Gail Koger
Genre: Paranormal Romance
Everyone
calls Mariah Smith the Judge. No, she doesn't wear a black robe or
sit on a bench. She provides a unique service to those who have been
wronged. She's an expert in paybacks both psychic and
magical.
Mariah's
next target is the famous supermodel Fabian. Smoking hot body, the
face of an Italian sinner and dumb as a rock. His crime? Sticky
fingers. The man whore makes millions of dollars a year, but can't
resist seducing elderly women out of their jewelry? How does she
resist all that tanned, male perfection and unmask Fabian as the
gigolo he truly is?
Mariah
soon discovers Mister Sticky fingers isn't quite as dim-witted as he
acts. He's actually the Dragos clan's top demon hunter who is
stealing back magical artifacts that open gateways to hell. Now that
she's attracted Fabian's attention, he's determined to possess her
and her magical abilities.
My
name’s Mariah Smith, but everyone calls me the Judge. No, I don’t wear a black
robe or sit on a bench. Using my psychic and magical abilities, I provide a
unique service to those who have been wronged. I’m in the business of paybacks.
How
did I choose this career path? Justice. I wanted justice for my father.
Dad
was one hell of a cop. His partner, Dan Harvey, not so much.
Dan’s
midlife crisis led him to dump his wife of twenty years and shack up with
Bambi, a hot-to-trot teenager. When my dad found out she was only sixteen, he
tried to talk his partner into stopping the affair. When that didn’t work, my
father was forced to tell the chief of police what was going on.
That
ended Dan’s career, his illicit affair, and their partnership. The court
sentenced the idiot to a year in county lockup. The minute Dan got out of jail
and foundout Bambi had moved on to fresher game, he lost it.
He
cleaned out his ex-wife’s bank account, shot my father, and fled. My dad
survived but had to learn to walk again. The lame-ass detective they assigned
to the case misplaced the evidence, and the county attorney refused to
prosecute.
Using
my rather awesome psychic abilities, I tracked the jerk to Mexico.
While
my dad recovered from a bullet in the back, Dan was having the time of his life
in Acapulco.
He
drove a flashy red sports car and had a luxury villa with a spectacular view of
the bay. I was going to teach Dan a well-deserved lesson. First he would lose
his libido, his looks, his money, the car, and the villa.
Dan’s
oversexed libido was in high gear, and he wasn’t content until he had bedded at
least five women a day. Did he practice safe sex? Hell, no. He liked going
commando, and Senorita Clap soon had him walking like a bowlegged cowboy. It
was a real shame his meds didn’t work.
Disguised
as a maid, I soon discovered Dan took a popular baldness drug that had some
rather nasty side effects. It caused men’s genitals to shrink, and within a
month 80 percent of the users became impotent. I tripled his dose, and damn, it
worked. He couldn’t get it up, and not even the little blue pill helped.
Dan
was an extremely vain man. Instead of getting braces for his son, he blew the
money on veneers for his own teeth. I added a mixture of nicotine, black tar,
and a dash of magic to his toothpaste. Presto! Pearly whites gone. I hacked his
bank account, sent the money back to his ex-wife, and reported Dan’s bogus
credit cards to the Mexican Federales and his landlord.
Next,
I hotwired Dan’s sports car and drove it down to the poorer side of town. I
watched gleefully as it was stripped down to the frame. I had it towed back to
his villa. Dan threw a hissy fit and unloaded his Glock into the remains.
Sometimes getting your car back simply isn’t enough.
Dan’s
expression when he got arrested for fraud? Priceless. He’s now doing time in a
Mexican prison. That’s what I call justice.
As
time passed, my reputation grew. I became very selective about the cases I
took. I’m not a killer. My retributions were carefully planned out to expose
the villains’ crimes and get closure for the victims.
My
current target was the famous supermodel Fabian. Smoking hot body, the face of
an Italian sinner, and dumb as a rock. His crime? Sticky fingers. The man-whore
makes millions of dollars a year, but can’t resist seducing elderly women out
of their jewelry? I’m not talking about mature women of fifty or sixty. I’m
talking old. His latest victim, Ethel Rossi, was eighty-five, hard of hearing,
and had a bad habit of misplacing her dentures.
Rumor
has it, Ethel fell asleep during the act. Maybe Fabian’s not the fabled lover
everyone says he is. The Rossi family hired me to retrieve the
three-hundred-year-old medallion he walked off with and unmask him as the
gigolo he truly was.
How
do I come up with my stories? Being psychotic helps. I was a 9-1-1
dispatcher for way too long. All those years of wild requests, screwy
questions, bizarre behavior and outrageous demands have left me with
a permanent twitch and an uncontrollable craving for chocolate. Don’t
get me wrong. Working as a 9-1-1 dispatcher can be very rewarding.
BUT - some days I felt like the entire world was nuts. I mean, c’mon,
who in their right mind calls 9-1-1 for the winning lottery numbers?
To keep from hitting myself repeatedly in the head with my phone, I
took up writing.
I
made the Night Owl's Awesome Paranormal Romance Authors List.
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the tour HERE
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1 comments:
Catching Dragos is a fast, fun ride. Do not start if you have in-laws coming for dinner.
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