by Jenna Kernan
“Hey, Dani.” A deep voice that gives me shivers at night got my immediate attention. Though I could have just sighed and listened to him talk, I have a reputation to uphold. Tough chicks aren’t just born. They’re cultivated.
It’s a lot of work.
“Hey, Sam, what’s up?” I usually leave the door propped open with a large piece of petrified wood, about the size of a bowling ball, I had found in my yard. Here in the desert, the stuff’s everywhere, and someday when he’s being a butt head (and you know he will be no matter how hot he is now), I’ll probably have to clobber him with it.
“Just reviewed your notes on the cop-killer case.” He held several files in one hand that contained my attempts to outline the legislation. In his other hand was a cup of coffee I’d brought. See? Bringing coffee is a good thing, no matter what it costs my budget. Makes for good relationships with smart men who carry big guns. Here was one with a 9 mil on his hip, and he ain’t afraid to use it. That’s yummy, in my book.
“Take a seat and tell me what you think.” Although I have my suspicions, I want to hear it from him. My powers don’t extend to mind reading, but I know Sam pretty well, and he’s giving off a negative vibe. Could be his years as an army Ranger, though. He’s one tough dude. That makes him a good resource for me, but he’s hell on relationships.
With a sigh he sat and parked the files on my desk. “I’m not a lawyer, but I don’t think they’re going to make a decision. At least not yet. The public isn’t ready for it.”
“Yeah.” Running my hands through my hair is a habit, and one I engage in now. One I’ll probably regret down the line when I experience androgenic alopecia and there’s more hair in my brush than on my head. “I wish there was a way around this. It could be the start of something big here. I hate waiting for New York and California to set the bar, and then we catch up later.” I wanted this, bad. Not just for me and setting a precedent in New Mexico, but setting one for all resurrectionists. We need to know. The families of those we resurrect need it, too. I tried not to think of how badly the families of the cops needed it.
Sam’s dark, dark gaze roamed over my chest and lingered for a second before his attention returned to my face. Not that I dislike that sort of attention, especially from him, but we have bigger things to focus on than the bumps under my shirt.
He pushed the files back to my side of the ugly desk that was a recycle from the precinct. “Sorry, babe.”
You know, I’m a fully liberated woman, but for some reason, I don’t mind him calling me babe. Mostly because he does it with affection, and knows that if he ever gets in my pants we’ll set the desert on fire. If anyone else tries it, I’ll rip their tongue out. Sometimes the sparks between Sam and me are visible at night. In a graveyard. Woo-hoo. How romantic is that?
“Thanks for taking a look at it.” Trying not to be disgusted and impatient, I shoved the file into a drawer.
“Did you get any sleep last night?” He’s got dark, dark eyes that don’t miss much. Of course the bags under my eyes are probably as big as sopaipillas and just as puffy.
“Some. I never get enough.” Never, never enough rest. Someone needs to invent a pill to replenish lost sleep. I’ll buy stock in the company.
“Did you eat this morning?” He was starting to get bossy, which I didn’t like. I’d gotten out of a controlling relationship with my ex-husband. I didn’t need a lecture from Sam. Having been born the oldest in a house full of women, he was born bossy. They let him get away with entirely too much and ruined him for any other women, hence his track record of disastrous relationships.
I shrugged, noncommittal. Something I learned from him. “Yep. The usual.”
Sam grinned. The man has a smile that could set me on fire. I must resist. “You’re the only woman I know who has steak for breakfast.”
“Is that a bad thing?” Hardly. I know better, but can’t resist teasing him sometimes, and my irritation disappeared. There’s so little joy in my life, I have to take it where I can get it.
He rubbed the back of his neck as if it ached. Having known him for a year or so, I picked up on little nonverbal signals, and this was one of them. Something was up that he didn’t like and didn’t want to talk about. Wonder what it was? He’d eventually talk, but until then, he’d stay clammed up. I should start calling him Sam-The-Clam.
After getting up from the chair, he strolled around to my side of the desk and leaned a hip on the edge. Hmm. Our flirtations over the past year have always been restricted to arm’s length. This was new. Wonder if it had anything to do with that neck issue of his and the one growing between my shoulder blades? There was either something coming, or my gallbladder was having an attack.
“You need more sleep.” He ran a finger down the side of my face. “The rings under your eyes aren’t going away.”
“I don’t wear much makeup, so they’re easier to see.” Maybe that makeup sale was still on. I could pick up a spackling tool on the way back.
“You’re beautiful with or without makeup, but you’re also damned tired. I can see it every time you walk in here that you’re burning out. Can you take a week off and get out of town? Relax on a beach with a fruity drink and a book somewhere?”
“Could you?” As if. We’re both chained to our work.
“Is that a proposition?” There was that damned grin again and a new tingle in my stomach to go with it. Interesting, but it ain’t gonna happen.
“Hardly.” I shoved him off my desk. When he’s too close to me I get distracted, and sometimes I think that’s what he’s after. “Go arrest someone, will you?”
He took a step away and rubbed the back of his neck. “No rituals tonight?”
“None so far.”
“Make sure you call me if anything comes up.” That dark, guarded look was back in his eyes. There was something behind it. Something he hid that crept out at times despite his efforts to bury it.
“You’re taking the bossy thing to a new level today.” I glared. I didn’t need a babysitter.
“It’s my job, babe.” Serious now, he held my gaze as if he wanted to say something else, but held back. Yeah, he was a man of secrets, and I wasn’t likely to penetrate that barrier he erected every time I asked him a personal question. Sometimes I just can’t help myself and must ask. Just makes my day to irritate other people.
“So what’s going on with you today? I’m getting a weird vibe from you.” I raised my brows and waited for the answer I knew wasn’t coming.
“Nothing.” Slam. That door in his eyes closed, but I knew something was bothering him.
“You’re lying, I can see it. If something’s up, I need to know. If you don’t share, dude, then neither do I.” That broke all the rules of my agreement with the P.D., but right now I didn’t care. Something was up.
Narrowing his eyes, he tried to stare me down, but failed. I know his tricks, and he sighed. “There’s something I can’t get a hold on. Something in the air.”
“In the air? Could you be vaguer?” My turn to frown.
He stood and spun away. “Never mind. If anything concrete shows up, I’ll let you know.”
“If you’ve got a feeling about something, I want to know, even if you think it’s nothing.”
“Like I said, when it’s concrete, I’ll let you know.” His hand drifted to his neck again, but I kept silent. Miracles do happen. Sam gave me a crumb.
He’s my assigned protector from the P.D. I’ve been through private training like you wouldn’t believe. I know a thing or two about guns and how to protect myself, but when I perform the rituals my focus is internal. That’s when I’m vulnerable and need someone to watch over me. A big, bad, hunky cop like Sam will do. Sometimes I resent that I need one, but it’s become obvious I do. The security guards offer some protection, but there’s something about Sam in particular
that needs to be there. I don’t know what yet, and it’s pissing me off.
“Like I said, it’s my job.” He gave that tight little smile he has when he has to do something he doesn’t want to. Talk about control issues.
“Yes, I know. You’re the liaison, blah, blah, blah.” I get so tired of the blah, blah, blah sometimes. “But you’re off your game, and that affects me whether you know it or not.” Well, I guess he knows now.
“Yes, I am. One of these nights we’re going to have more trouble than we bargained for.” Concern emanated from his eyes and a little something twisted between my shoulder blades. That’s my signal something is wrong.
I hope it isn’t an omen. Not that I believe in them, not seriously, but I sort of wish for a bit more protection at times. Something small and inconspicuous, like the Spear of Isis. That’s all.
With a nod he left, and I tried to return to the work in front of me, but it didn’t keep my attention.
I’d had a sense of foreboding for a week now and didn’t know why. Maybe that’s what I was getting from Sam. He has senses finely tuned from his military service that I’ll never get close to, but he’s so damned closed-mouthed sometimes, I just want to strangle him.
I must resist.
Copyright © 2014 by Brenda Schetnan
ISBN-13: 9781460335086
THE VAMPIRE’S WOLF
Copyright © 2014 by Jeannette H. Monaco
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