“Not if you stop talking.” In a sweeping, dramatic gesture he covered his closed lips with the back of his hand. “Better.” I swung my legs off Ashley and looked at Cassandra.
“How come the breakfast foods?” I asked as I noted eggs scrambling beside a freshly baked tin of cinnamon rolls.
She smiled with anticipation. “Jericho is coming.” I should’ve known. She looked date primed with her hair wound around her head like a crown. She’d chosen her best jewelry and a sheath of a white dress covered with red peppers.
“Does he know this?” I asked.
“He will after you call him.”
Oh, right, I’d told Shao I would talk to him this morning. Of course that was when I had high hopes of eliminating Lung and heading back to E.J.-land.
“Do I have his number?”
Cassandra pushed a business card across the counter toward me along with my phone. I dialed him up.
“This is Preston.”
“Sergeant Preston, this is Jaz Parks. How are you feeling this morning?”
“Well, I’m not extracrispy, thanks to you.”
“I can tell you we’re all pretty relieved to have gotten out of that mess alive, and it was great to have your help. Which is sort of why I’m calling. We were wondering if, uh, before you and your son take off for the zoo, maybe you could come to breakfast. We had some things we’d like to discuss with you.”
“Sure, I’ll be right there.”
I held the phone up and looked at Cassandra. “He hung up. Is that rude, or am I just—?” A knock at the door interrupted me. Bergman closed the laptops, leaped out of his seat, snagged the sheet I’d been sleeping under, and covered the table with it. Then he raced to the bedroom to check whose face would be filling its monitor as Cassandra went to answer. I gave her a wait-a-minute gesture as Cole and I powered down the living room TV and all its related equipment.
“How we doing, Bergman?” I called.
“We’re good to go,” he said as he strolled back into the kitchen.
I nodded for her to open the door. Preston stood on our welcome mat, hands on his hips, only slightly out of breath.
“Where were you?” Cassandra asked.
“Fishing.”
“I don’t see a rod and reel.”
“For evidence,” he explained. “That freaky dude who attacked you last night disappeared. I figure I can put him away for a long time with you all as my witnesses, so I was looking around, trying to figure out where he went off to.”
“Well, isn’t that sweet?” Cassandra said, looking at me with a forced smile. “Jaz, isn’t that sweet?”
“It certainly is.”
“Please, call me Jericho.”
So we called him Jericho and he met Cole and Bergman formally, after which we ate. I excused myself for a quick cleanup since I couldn’t stand myself any longer. When I came back Cole raised his eyebrows at my outfit.
I wore my newest purchase, a cobalt-blue blouse with three-quarter-length sleeves and a high, Victorian-style collar that would hide the bite marks if there were any to conceal. There weren’t. But you never knew. I’d been forced to bare my neck to Vayl on our last mission when his blood supply had been tainted. I also wore gray pinstriped dress pants and my black leather jacket, which hid Grief.
I carried my usual assortment of backup weaponry, including the bolo in my right pocket. I slipped my hand into my left pocket, touched the ring that rested there. For the first time I thought,
Jericho and Cassandra had settled on Mary-Kate directly opposite Cole, who’d decided, once again, to put his feet up. He looked geared for a beach party in jean shorts and a green Hawaiian shirt covered with palm leaves. Bergman, wearing brown work pants and a T-shirt that saidMETEORS RULE on it, had spun the passenger seat around for himself, so I took the driver’s seat, which also turned to join the crowd.
Vayl and I had not discussed this situation at all, so I really didn’t know how much of our mission he’d be comfortable revealing to Jericho. Therefore I thought it might be a good idea to do a little fishing myself before I revealed all our nifty secrets.
“So what exactly is your role on the SWAT team?” I asked.
“It depends on the situation,” Jericho said. “For instance, if we’re busting in a place to take down a known drug dealer or a black magic marketer, I’m usually the guy swinging the ram. If it’s a standoff, or a hostage situation, I’m one of the snipers.”
That gave me such a phenomenal idea I nearly jumped on Bergman and throttled him with it. But Jericho’s presence forced me to sit very still and wish somebody in the immediate vicinity would rob a bank. Wouldn’t they call SWAT for that?
Jericho’s phone chose that moment to ring, which I thought might be a sign from God. If so, I would gladly attend church at least once this year. At almost the same moment a knock came at our door. Cole went to answer
