Kiss of Death Page 0,4

and almost kill you, and he didn't do anything!"

"He did," Claire said flatly. "He left me to find help. I know because Richard Morrell told me later. Jason went to the cops and tried to tell them. They didn't believe him or they'd have gotten help to me a lot earlier." Earlier would have meant a lot less terror and pain and despair. It wasn't Jason's fault that they'd figured him for crazy. Shane was thrown, a little, but he came back swinging. "Yeah, well, what about those other girls? He didn't help them, did he? I'm not friending up somebody like that."

"Nobody said you had to," Claire shot back. "Jason's done his time in jail. Sitting at the same table isn't like swearing eternal brotherhood." He opened his mouth, closed it, and then said, very tightly, "I just wanted to make sure he didn't have a chance to hurt you again."

"Unless he uses a taco as a deadly weapon, he hasn't got much of a shot. Having you, Michael, and Eve here is about the best protection I could want. Anyway, would you rather have him where you can see him, or where you can't?" Some of the fire faded out of his eyes. "Oh. Yeah, okay." He still looked uncomfortable, though. "You do crazy crap, you know. And it's contagious."

"I know." She put her hand on his cheek, and got a very small smile in return. "Thanks for wanting to keep me safe. But don't overdo it, okay?" Shane made a sound of frustration deep in his throat, but he didn't argue. The kitchen door swung open again. It was Michael, looking fully awake and very calm, as if bracing for a fight. "I talked to him," he said. "He's sincere enough. But if you don't want him here, Shane--"

"I damn sure don't," Shane said, then glanced at Claire and continued. "But if she's willing to give it a shot, I will." Michael blinked, then raised his eyebrows. "Huh," he said. "The universe explodes, hell freezes, and Shane does something reasonable." Shane silently offered him the finger. Michael grinned and backed out of the kitchen again. Claire handed Shane the biggest knife they had. "Chop brisket," she said. "Take out your frustrations." The brisket didn't stand a chance.

Chapter Three

Jason didn't say much at dinner. In fact, he was almost completely silent, though he ate four tacos as if he'd been starving for a month, and when Eve brought out ice cream for dessert, he ate a double helping of that, too. Shane was right. The brisket was delicious in the tacos. Eve, compensating for her brother, chattered like a magpie on crack the whole time--about dumb-asses at the coffee shop where she worked, Common Grounds; about Oliver, her vampire boss, who was a full-time jerk, as far as Claire was concerned, although apparently he was a surprisingly fair supervisor; gossip about people in town. Michael contributed some juicy stuff about the vampire side of town (Claire, for one, had never considered that vampires could fall in and out of love just like regular people--well, vampires other than Michael, and maybe Amelie.) Shane finally loosened up on his glares and brought up some embarrassing stories from Michael's and Eve's pasts. If there were embarrassing stories he knew about Jason, he didn't get into telling them. It started out deeply uncomfortable, but by the time the ice cream bowls were empty, it felt kind of--normal. Not great--there was still a cautious tension around the table--but there was guarded acceptance. Jason finally said, "Thanks for the food." They all stopped talking and looked at him, and he kept his own gaze down on the empty dessert bowl. "Shane's right. I got no right to think I can just show up here and expect you not to hate my guts. You should."

"Damn straight," Shane muttered. Claire and Eve both glared at him. "What? Just sayin'." Jason didn't seem to mind. "I needed to come and tell you that I'm sorry. It's been--things got weird, man. Real weird. And I got real screwed up, in all kinds of ways. Until that thing happened with Claire ... Look, I never meant--she wasn't part of it. That was all on him." Him meant the other guy, the one none of them mentioned, ever. Claire felt her palms sweating and wiped them against her jeans. Her mouth felt dry. "But I'm guilty of other stuff, and I confessed to all of it to the cops,