Copyright © 2008 by Jennifer Rardin
Excerpt from One More Bite copyright © 2009 by Jennifer Rardin
All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the publisher.
Orbit
Hachette Book Group USA
237 Park Avenue, New York, NY 10017
Visit our Web site at www.orbitbooks.net
First eBook Edition: August 2008
The characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
ISBN: 978-0-316-03291-9
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Acknowledgments
Meet the Author
A Preview of “One More Bite”
“So you are Vayl’s . . .” Disa raised an eyebrow, gave me that look.
The one that said, Hey, even vamps who’re trying to blend gotta get their blood from somewhere. So what about it? Are you Vayl’s very own, personal Slurpee?
I gave her empty eyes as I said, “I’m his assistant,” then zoomed back in on Binns. He was beginning to relax. Starting to believe his Deyrar would tow him out of this jam. His gaze dropped to his front pocket just before his right hand tried to follow suit. So I shot him.
He staggered. Stared down at the bolt sticking out of his left shoulder. Looked up at me in shock. “Why did you do that?”
“Hair trigger,” I said.
Praise for Jennifer Rardin:
“Fantasy fans who love high-tech toys and Mission: Impossible–style intrigue will get a kick out of Jennifer Rardin’s Another One Bites the Dust.” —Publishers Weekly
“Rardin proves she’s no flash in the pan with the second Jaz Parks adventure, which leaps from one exhilarating escapade to another.” —Romantic Times (Top Pick!) on Another One Bites the Dust
BY JENNIFER RARDIN
Once Bitten, Twice Shy
Another One Bites the Dust
Biting the Bullet
Bitten to Death
One More Bite
This book is dedicated to the memories of my babies, Tessa and Ivan. Where there is love, even a brief life can change you for good.
Chapter One
I stood in the moonlit courtyard of a Greek villa so old and enormous it would’ve made me feel like Hera herself if I hadn’t been so pissed. I’d just pulled Grief, the Walther PPK that Bergman, my tech guru, had modified for me. So I had no problem keeping a steady bead on my target. Since he was a vampire, I’d pressed the magic button, transforming Grief into a crossbow. Which my mark was taking pretty seriously. The only reason he was still pretending to breathe.
Beside me, my boss played his part to perfection. He’d already made the leap from faked surprise that I’d drawn on one of our hosts, to faux acceptance that I’d once again dropped him into a socially precarious situation. Maybe Vayl slipped into the role so smoothly because he was used to it. I did tend to make his existence . . . interesting.
He turned his head slightly, his short dark curls indifferent to the late-April breeze coming off the mountain at our backs. Managing to keep an eye on my target, as well as whatever vamps might come pouring out of the sprawling sand-colored mansion to check on him, Vayl said, “Are you sure you recognize this fellow?”
“He’s the one,” I hissed. “I just saw the report on him last week. Name is Alan Binns. He’s wanted for murder in three countries. His specialty is families. The pictures were—” Gruesome, I thought, but I choked on the word. The twitch of Vayl’s left eyebrow told me I was on a roll. Thing was, at the moment, I didn’t give two craps about our little game.
The Vampere world might be all about superiority, which was why we’d needed to make a power play the minute we crossed their threshold. But I’d have popped this bastard just to erase another monster from our hit list. In fact, that we should personally benefit from his takeout made me feel almost dirty. I know, I know. As assistant to the CIA’s top assassin, I shouldn’t make moral judgments. But that had never stopped me before.
“You can’t prove anything,” snarled Binns, whose dirt-brown, shoulder-length hair did nothing to disguise his bulging forehead.
“I don’t have to, you idiot!” I snapped, wishing I could break my rage over his head like a vase full of cobras. “You others have so few legal rights they could fit on the back of my passport photo. That leaves me free to smoke you if I feel you’re a clear and present danger to society. Which you are.”
“What is the meaning of this? What are you strangers doing in my courtyard at ten o’clock in the evening!” demanded the woman who steamed out one of the villa’s blue-framed back doors, all four of which were flanked by solar lamps made to resemble antique streetlights. The elongated sleeves of her black chiffon gown batted the air behind her, making her resemble an enraged homecoming queen candidate—one whose friends had voted for the other, uglier girl. Though her mega-gelled version of beauty could have landed her a closetful of pageant tiaras, her psychic scent hit me between the eyes so hard I felt like I’d been drop-kicked into a garbage dump. What the hell kind of vamp was she?
Vayl turned to intercept her, placing the tiger-carved cane he always carried firmly on the gray pavers between them. She stopped three feet from it, rearing back like she’d hit an invisible wall. Her eyes, the liquid brown of stale coffee, widened as a how-dare-you look tried to settle on her face. It faded almost immediately, as if she’d undergone a recent Botox treatment and couldn’t sustain any expression that might leave evidence of emotion.
I struggled not to stare. My job did require some concentration, after all. But her scent, combined with the eye-strafing she gave Vayl, tempted the busybody in me. I forced my gaze back to Binns. He’d taken half a step forward. I smiled at him. Come on, asshole. Make it easy. He stopped.
“What are you doing here?” the woman snarled.
For a second I thought Vayl was going to freeze her like an MRE, his powers spiked so suddenly. Then he said, “I heard you were dead.”
Out the corner of my eye I saw her throw her head sideways, as if to dodge a bitter memory. “Hardly,” she replied, her voice higher and tighter than before. “Hamon and I might have had a slight . . . disagreement. But that was settled years ago.”