“Yeah,” replied Goatee Guy, “his sister called. She had some weird, last-minute catering job right around here. I guess this Chinese fella, you know, the one in charge of the acrobat show? He’s having a big party and his cook’s stuck in Chicago. But get this: The party doesn’t start until one a.m. So Larry’s gotta help her get the food done, set it all up, and then get out before the guests arrive.”
“That doesn’t sound so bad,” said Hube. “At least she doesn’t have to serve it.”
“Nope, but she’s gotta get it there.”
“Where’s there?”
Goatee Guy twisted in his chair, making it creak so loudly I was pretty sure it had just reached its maximum- weight capacity. He pointed to a large white yacht floating serenely on the water. “Should be a helluva party,” he commented. “They ordered escargot.”
Vayl and I nosed-to-nosed next to the RV like a couple of gossips at the beauty parlor. “Did you hear what he said?” I hissed.
“Of course I heard what he said. I am a vampire!”
“Are you getting snippy with me?”
“Maybe, but if I am it is because I dislike obvious questions.”
“I have no idea.”
“We need to get hold of this caterer. Get onto the yacht with her. See if Lung’s got himself a daytime hidey- hole somewhere aboard. And then plant some cameras.”
“It looks as if I was thinking what you were thinking.”
“Actually, you weren’t. I was really thinking I needed to ask you a question.”
“What was that?”
“Do you think we should ask Goatee Guy how to find the caterer?” I smiled at him innocently as his eyebrows practically met above his nose.
“I am never going to share my pet peeves with you again.”
“Should we ask Bergman to get a few cameras ready for us?”
“Jasmine!”
“Maybe break out those nifty communications devices so you and I can talk even if we end up in different rooms?”
It happened so suddenly I didn’t even have a chance to react. One second Vayl was glowering at me, practically speechless with annoyance, and I was feeling all righteous and superior. The next moment his lips were on mine. As kisses went, it barely qualified. Just a quick brush of the lips and a swift withdrawal. But the gesture left me gasping.
“That will teach you for pushing a vampire over his limit,” Vayl said, the huskiness of his voice a stark counterpoint to the sternness in his eyes. The words combined with that look to transport me back to our fourth mission together.
We’d been assigned to eliminate a vampire named Leonard Potts, who’d made himself a small fortune smuggling his own kind into the States. It’s so tough for
As we prepared to confront Potts in his Connecticut Colonial, Vayl warned me to keep it low-key. “I do not understand why you like to enrage our targets before we eliminate them, but in this case I would appreciate a little self-control. Potts is a known coward. He will probably go down easily as long as you do not goad him.”
I went in with good intentions. But when I saw him lounging on his chaise, watching David Letterman while a couple of his clients slurped at the girl like she was a strawberry shake, I forgot myself.
“He’s mine,” I growled, leaving Vayl to deal with the hungry vamps while I zeroed in on Potts, who was just now rising from the lounge, the first vamp I’d ever confronted who actually looked scared to see me.
“So what is it with you?” I asked him, coming in close enough to shove him back down to his seat. “Like messing with defenseless women, do you?” I shoved him again. His feet came up and he flew backward, tumbling off the chaise. When he got up he looked pissed. I didn’t really care. I could hear fighting behind me. I figured Vayl was winning, but I wasn’t worried about that either.
“Who are you?” Potts demanded. “What are you doing in my house?”
“We’re just a couple of drifters looking for some action,” I told him.
“Look”—I held up my hands—“no weapons. So come on, ya big brave vampire. Show me what a badass you really are.”
He leaped over the chaise. I wished for a second I had vamp strength so I could meet him head-on. Bash that complacent look right off his face. I dodged at the last second, not soon enough to escape a blow from his right fist, which sent me staggering into the wall. But I’d landed one myself, a kick to the shoulder that left it sagging.
“Jasmine!” Vayl yelled. “This is not a boxing match! Smoke him!”
The girl moaned from where they’d dropped her on the floor. She was so covered in bites it looked like she’d been dog-mauled. No way would she survive the night. It didn’t seem enough to just kill the son of a bitch who’d engineered that damage. I wanted to hurt him first. Make him feel a piece of her pain.
I whirled into him, attacking with every move in my arsenal. Kicks designed to shatter bone. Punches meant to
