found them a vehicle, and they’d come back up the fire road to rescue him.
Only he didn’t need rescuing. He had a job to do.
“Jonathan Grave, stop it!” Gail’s tone was that of a scolding mother. She’d moved from behind him to in front where he could see her. “Stop it,” she said again.
“Fuck off,” he replied.
“Let him go, Jonathan,” she said. “This isn’t what you’re about. It’s over. We’ve got him.”
“She’s right, Dig,” Boxers said, putting a hand on his shoulder. “You’re not an assassin, remember? You’re not a murderer. You’ve said it a thousand times.”
Those were the words that got through to him. The words and the big man’s beefy hand on his shoulder.
Jonathan pulled his hands away from Ivan’s face and rolled to the side onto the ground to let the man clutch at himself.
The reality of his wounds hit him. He felt old and he felt cold. He felt sick. He’d crossed a line with Ivan tonight. As he looked at the blood streaming from his arm, and the color started to fade from his surroundings, he wondered if the legend of the vampire somehow applied to bites from ordinary mortals. As he stared up to the smoke-blackened sky, he knew that he would soon be unconscious, and the thing that he dreaded most was the possibility of waking up with Ivan’s blood in his veins, commingled with his own.
A gunshot startled him.
A lady’s voice screamed, “What did you do?”
And then Boxers said, “I got no problem bein’ an assassin.”
Jonathan smiled as he drifted away.
Late May
Chapter Twenty-seven
Mount Comfort Cemetery in Alexandria had been the interment place for Tibor Rothman’s family for at least three generations. As Dom piloted his Chevy around the circle, he glanced at his passenger, assessing emotional stability, Jonathan supposed.
“Is that your priestly concern or your psychologist’s concern?” Jonathan asked, staring straight ahead.
“Let’s call it a friend’s concern,” Dom replied.
Touche. “Then thank you. But relax. I’m fine.”
“Sure you are,” Dom said. Though his jaw was mostly healed, there was still a certain tightness to his words. “If you don’t mind, we’ll let your psychologist make that call.”
Fair enough, Jonathan thought. After all, the priestHe’s the one the news folks were here to pay tribute to.”
“Or just to make sure that the son of a bitch was really dead,” Jonathan quipped.
“I won’t let you get away with that, Dig. For ninety-nine percent of his life, maybe he was a complete ass, but he checked out in service to others. You above all people should-”
“I know, Dom. It’s just such a hard notion to wrap my head around.”
“You’re stalling,” Dom said.
Jonathan gave a wry chuckle. When he looked at Dom, he hoped that his eyes were nowhere near as red as they felt. “Would you believe I’m scared?”
“It’s tough to say good-bye. I’m not sure there’s any harder thing in the world.” Dom reached out and rested a hand on Jonathan’s forearm. “Want me to come with you?”
Jonathan didn’t answerenjoyed the confirmation that his assumptions about those legs were correct. “I’ve always considered myself to be a good investigator. You know, finding people who don’t want to be found.”
Jonathan’s smirk became a smile. “God knows I’m the last one to argue.”
She uncrossed her legs and leaned closer. “Do you know anyone who might be looking for someone with those skills?”
“I just might,” he said. “What do you say we discuss it over dinner tonight?”
A stunning smile bloomed. “I’ve already made the reservations,” she said.
