Oh boy. My first instinct was to order Cassandra and Bergman to drag Cole off that yacht and dunk his head into the bay until the pompous ass washed right out of him. But I knew this wouldn’t work as a long-term solution to the problem. Which was, in fact, that he had become an assassin tonight. That he would be doing more killing as time went by. That he would have to find a way to eliminate his targets without breaking off little parts of himself every time he did so.
“Okay, Cassandra, thanks for letting me know. I’ll, uh, I’ll think of something.”
Vayl came outside. “Problems back in Texas?”
“Yeah. I’ll tell you on the way. We’re done in there, right?”
“I believe we have found everything we could. We will let the specialists deal with the rest.”
“Then let’s get back. Cole is reacting badly to his first kill and the two people who should be walking him through the aftermath aren’t there.”
“What is it you think we can do for him?” Vayl demanded, his voice as hard as the cane at his side.
“Could you just drop the whole misplaced-jealousy gig? When I’m ready to jump into the sack with someone, I guarantee it’s not going to be a guy who chews bubble gum and wears high-tops with his suits.”
Vayl didn’t exactly swoop in on me, but it suddenly felt like we’d just finished a dance, that’s how close we stood. I forgot to breathe as he held my gaze. “What kind of man will it be?” he asked softly, his eyes the pure, blazing green I’d begun to equate with these supercharged moments.
For the first time I was certain of the answer. And that realization gave me the confidence to go up on tiptoe, bring my mouth to within an inch of his, and whisper, “One who doesn’t piss me off with too many questions.” I backed off a step and hid a grin as Vayl raised his head. A vamp that old, I don’t suppose you get to see them speechless too often. So I enjoyed the moment. It ended when our driver came around the corner.
“Come on,” I said to Vayl as he pulled up to the curb. “We’ve got one last mission to accomplish before dawn.”
CHAPTERTHIRTY-NINE
Vayl and I spent most of our trip back to Corpus Christi on the phone, reporting to and getting reports from our Reno contacts, from Pete, and from Jericho Preston. By the time we reached the RV we’d tied up as many of our loose ends as we could. Which meant we could focus on Cole.
It wasn’t tough to get him off theConstance Malloy . I just mentioned the problem to Jericho during our last call and he sent Cole back home. He was making coffee when Vayl and I walked in. When it began percolating I said, “Cole, we need to make a rather elaborate plan, which cannot even begin without the aid of some major bubble blowing. Gum, please.”
Bergman and Cassandra had each commandeered a twin and were watching Cole with an air of tense frustration, like parents who can’t seem to get their thick-skulled teen to listen to reason. Without quite knowing what I was about, they gave me their attention while Cole dipped into his stash. Accompanied by the scent of Dubble Bubble and the steadily increasing interest and input of the object of our concern, our plans were made and carried out like clockwork.
I admit we nearly got caught, because we were giggling like maniacs throughout the whole exercise. (Okay, Vayl wasn’t even smiling at first. But once we convinced him we had the higher moral ground, even if it was only by an inch, he at least showed occasional signs of fang). But it was good for us, Cole especially, to imagine the faces of theothers- are-not-our-brothers protesters when they discovered Lung’s and Pengfei’s coffins hooked to the bumper of their hate-crimes van in the morning withJUST BURIED spray painted in big white letters across the lids. We made it back to the RV with just enough time for Vayl to stagger to the bedroom, pop up his tent, and crawl inside. Such a silly exercise. But it had helped Cole shed his shell and rediscover his hilarious old soul.
Mission accomplished.
CHAPTERFORTY
Cole, Cassandra, Bergman, and I stood outside the RV, watching dawn break over the city.
Cole took a sip of his coffee. “I don’t get why you’re so relaxed, Jaz,” he said. “I mean, you thought you had Samos nailed last night. But he slipped through your fingers again. I haven’t known you long, but I’m thinking, typically, you’d be gnashing your teeth and pulling your hair out.” He looked to Bergman for confirmation.
“Oh, yeah,” Miles said. “One time, in college, she got so mad after our apartment was burglarized that she smashed her fist through the bathroom door.”
“I did find that guy,” I reminded Bergman.
He nodded. “She got all our stuff back and made him replace the door too.”
“So what’s the deal?” asked Cole.
“I’m curious as well,” said Cassandra. “You told us the Reno crime scene investigators found no fingerprints. No sources of DNA. No scientific proof that Samos killed Morty Frierman. So why are you so tranquil?”
“Because I came away from Frierman’s with the goods on that son of a bitch,” I told them, feeling a grin spread across my face and not minding a bit if it looked slightly evil. “I discovered something that will allow me to pick Samos out of a crowd. Given the time, and opportunity, it’ll lead me straight to him. And then Vayl and I will take him down.”
“So what did you bring home from Reno?” Cole asked.
I wanted to chuckle and rub my hands together. But under the circumstances that seemed too maniacal, so I just took a sip from my mug and said, “The scent of a vampire.”
Acknowledgments
Thanks to everyone who helped make this work the best it could possibly be: My editor, Devi Pillai; my agent, Laurie McLean; Bob Castillo; Alex Lencicki; Penina Lopez; Katherine Molina; Gabriella Nemeth; and all the folks at Orbit whose kindness, creativity, and professionalism I appreciate and admire. I’d also like to thank my readers Laurie McLean, Hank Graves, Hope Dennis, Erin Pringle, Jeremy Toungate, and Katie Rardin for taking the time to review the manuscript. Your feedback is pure gold. As for you, Reader, thanks for coming. Whether it was a return trip or a first outing, I hope you enjoyed the ride!
extras
Meet the Author
Jennifer Rardinbegan writing at the age of twelve, mostly poems to amuse her classmates and short stories featuring her best friends as the heroines. She lives in an old farmhouse in Illinois with her husband and two children. Find out more about Jennifer Rardin at www.JenniferRardin.com.
Introducing
If you enjoyed ANOTHER ONE BITES THE DUST,
look out for
BITING THE BULLET
Book 3 of the Jaz Parks series
by Jennifer Rardin
The reavers rolled into us, firing seemingly at random. But there was a method to their madness. Reavers operate by strict rules. I didn’t know what the punishments entailed, but they must’ve been extreme, because even the old gnarly ones wouldn’t break them. The main no-no revolved around killing. Reavers were only allowed to eliminate people who’d been marked for murder. In other words, me. Everybody else had to survive. So while the reavers had to take me out, they only wanted to take everybody else down.
What they didn’t count on was the supreme skill and professionalism of their foes. Though they outnumbered us at least three to one at the start of the attack, within sixty seconds we’d whittled their numbers to fifteen.