Blood Trail - By Tanya Huff Page 0,63

and back to the bottle. Finally she snorted and took it. "Thank you." It was cold and it helped. "Oh, chill out. I'm not going to bite you." Which was when she realized that they thought she might.

Which was so absurd that she had to laugh.

Both sets of ears perked up and both twins looked relieved. If they'd been in fur, they probably would have bounced; as they weren't, they merely grinned and drank their water.

Dominant/submissive behavior, Vicki thought draining her bottle. She worried about that a little. If all the wer but the dominant couple were conditioned to be submissive as a response to anger or aggression, that could cause major problems out in the world.

As Rose went around the car to the driver's side, two heavily muscled young men lounging around the Ramada Inn pool began calling out lurid invitations. Rose yawned, turned her back on them, and got into the car.

And then again, Vicki reconsidered, maybe there's nothing to worry about.

She tossed her empty bottle into the back seat with Peter. "Let's go get lunch while I come up with another brilliant idea."

Unlike a number of other places, London had managed to grow from a small town serving the surrounding farming community into a fair sized city without losing its dignity. Vicki approved of what she saw as they drove into the center of town. The city planners had left plenty of parks, from acres of land to tiny playgrounds tucked in odd corners. New development had gone up around mature trees and where that hadn't been possible new trees had been planted. Cicadas sang accompaniment throughout most of the drive and the whole city looked quiet and peaceful, basking in the heat.

Vicki, who liked a little more grit in her cities, strongly suspected that the place would bore her to tears in less than twenty-four hours. Although she emphatically denied sharing the commonly held Torontonian delusion that Toronto occupied the center of the universe, she couldn't imagine working, or living, anywhere else.

"The place is called Bob's Steak House," Peter explained as Rose pulled into a small, nearly empty parking lot. "It's actually up on Clarence Street, but if we leave the car there we have to parallel park."

"Which we're not exactly very good at," Rose added, cutting the engine with a sigh of relief.

Vicki would have been perfectly happy stopping for fast food - all she really demanded at this point was air conditioning - but the twins had argued for a restaurant "where the meat isn't so dead."

A short block east of the lot, Rose rocked to a halt in front of a little corner store and exclaimed, "Baseball stickers!"

Peter nodded. "Make him feel better."

"Is this a coded conversation," Vicki asked of no one in particular, "or can anyone join in?"

"Daniel collects baseball stickers," Rose translated. Her brow furrowed. "No one's quite sure why, but he does. If we bring a few packages back, it'll make up for him not being able to come with us."

"You two go ahead." Vicki rummaged in her bag for the car keys. "I've got this urge to go back and check the car doors."

"I locked mine," Peter told her, paused a moment, and added, "I think."

"Exactly," Vicki grunted. "And I don't want to have to tell Henry that we borrowed his BMW and lost half the pieces."

Rose waved a hand at the empty street. "But there's no one around."

"I have a naturally suspicious nature. Get the stickers. I'll meet you back here."

What's the point of new legislation on Sunday openings, Mark Williams wondered, heading back to the alley where he'd left his jeep, if the places I need to go are still closed? A truly civilized country wouldn't try to cramp a man's style and... hello!

He sidestepped quickly behind a huge old maple and with one hand resting lightly on the bark, leaned forward to take another look. It was Ms. "No First Name" Nelson. He thought he recognized the walk. Few women covered the ground with that kind of an aggressive stride. In fact...

He frowned, watching her check the car doors, wondering why the body language seemed so familiar.

Drives a BMW, eh. Not too shabby.

As she turned away from the car, he ducked back, not wanting to be seen. A number of his most profitable enterprises had begun with him watching and keeping his mouth shut. When he felt enough time had passed, he took another look.

Jesus H. Christ. She's a cop.

For those who took the trouble to