another one of your sick jokes, you and I are DONE, pal! You’ll be off the Christmas list again! “Of all the—dammit!”
“You didn’t think we were going to stand out on this sidewalk all night, did you?”
Only in my dreams. “So tomorrow? Can I call you?”
“I’m planning on it, Edward. So you’d better call me. I am no fun at all when I’ve been disappointed.”
“Right. Right! Okay. Okay, I’ll see you tomorrow. But I’ll talk to you earlier! Or leave you a voice mail.” He wanted to kiss her again, but they really did only just meet, so he grabbed her hand and wrung it like a politician canvassing red states. “Great to meet you, Rachael. Soooo great! Okay.” He ran to his rental car, screeched in mid-scamper, then turned around, abashed. “Um . . . Rachael . . .”
“Six, five, one. Two, six, one. Seven, four, four, four.”
“Got it!” He waved, squashed the impulse to run back and kiss her ripe mouth some more, then hopped in his Rent-A-Prius and roared out of the parking lot.
The drive to the vampire queen’s lair had never gone so quickly.
Twelve
Rachael walked into Cain’s office, her nose in Minnesota for Morons. She hadn’t meant to let the book capture her, but Cain had kept her waiting, so she had pulled it out and then . . . and then . . . and then Cain’s assistant really hollered and Rachael realized Cain was ready for their meeting.
“You know,” she said, engrossed, “Stillwater might be very nice. It’s old, comparably speaking. And the river looks so pretty.”
“Consider visiting. Now.”
That got her head up in a hurry. Anger. Fear. Anxiety.
She snapped the book closed. “What’s wrong?”
Cain was behind her desk, pinching the bridge of her nose. She looked like she hadn’t changed her clothes in three days. She, ah, smelled like it, too.
“A public relations nightmare. That is what’s wrong.” Cain stopped pinching and looked up. “I’m sorry. There have been some murders.”
“Local?”
“Yes.”
“Pack?”
Cain blanched. “Good God, I don’t think so. That’s all we need, dead Pack members popping up right when the Pack leader’s cousin gets to town. Michael would be so pleased.”
Rachael snorted. Pleased wasn’t the word that leapt to her mind when wondering about Michael Wyndham’s reaction to a Pack murder spree. What constitutes a spree, anyway? She said murders, plural. Two? Is two a spree?
“You’re jammed,” she guessed.
“Extremely.”
“You could have called . . . we didn’t have to meet today.”
“We did have to meet today, Rachael. I’m sorry to have to tell you . . . this is going to sound a little odd, but the two victims were on a list of small business owners who are looking for an accountant.” Cain coughed. “A list I had drawn up for you and was prepared to give to you this morning.” Cain slid the list across her desk. “I strongly advise you not waste your time calling Mr. Stewart or Ms. Janesboro.”
Less than a week?
A WEEK?
Cuz, you are in for the spanking of your life if I ever get back to the Cape.
“And we don’t validate parking.” Rachael had been using the parking stub for a bookmark. “Sorry.”
A never-ending nightmare.
Thirteen
Edward nearly drove into the pillar in the underground parking garage (it came out of nowhere!), so he stomped the brake and tried to calm down. You can’t meet up with Rachael if you’re found mangled in the Hilton parking garage with the front of your car squashed in like an accordion. So get a grip, shithead!
He tried to calm down, but wonder of wonders, a space right next to the elevators had just opened up (it was possible the driver saw him racing into the garage and narrowly missing a fiery death, and got the hell out), so he pounced on it. Then he glanced in the rearview mirror, tried (and failed) to straighten his messy bangs, popped a breath mint, and then shoved his shoulder against the door so hard it went immediately numb.
Moron! You have to OPEN the car door to get out!
Right.
So he did.
On the elevator leading to street level, he tortured himself with the most likely scenarios. 1) Rachael had been a hologram. 2) Rachael got off on stringing geeks along and had no plans to see him again, ever. 3) Rachael had been run down like a squirrel in a senseless pedestrian vs. dirt bike collision. 4) Rachael had been too nice to say no to his face, so she said yes while having no intention of