Jennifer Rardin [Jaz Parks series book 2] Another One Bites The Dust

Vayl’s side. He seemed to have entered a tug-o-war match. Clawed, bony fingers the color of raw, sunburned skin had wrapped around Yale’s wrists and were trying to pull him through a crack that had widened in the doorway. Yale himself had dug a small trench in the ground with his boots in his efforts to break free of Vayl’s hold.

 Vayl had him around the middle, but with a grip composed mainly of ice he found it nearly impossible to maintain his grasp. He kept having to reanchor himself, and every time he did, Yale gained ground. Before I had a chance to take aim, Yale’s accomplice pulled hard enough to get his head behind the door.

 “We have to pull him out!” said Vayl. “Grab on!”

 I latched on to those old man legs and yanked, eliciting a scream from their owner that told me the cycle had done some damage. Good. I kept pulling, and with Vayl’s help we got Yale’s head back into target range. But as soon as I let go to take the shot, Vayl lost his grip.

 “Goddammit! I am so freaking tired of this shit!” I yelled as I took hold of the calves above the cowboy boots I’d once admired and heaved to. “I’ve been shot and stabbed and burned on this mission! I’m so freaking worn out I could sleep through a nuclear explosion, and I have just realized I’m going to have to kill yetmore of Samos’s underlings before I finally work my way up to him. I am so pissed off!” I gave one last big jerk and fell on my back.

 I’d just struggled to my knees when Vayl said, “I see the third eye!”

 “Well, what the hell do you wantme to do about it!” I bitched. “If I let go he’s just going to slide back in!”

 “Well,somebody has to shoot him!” Vayl growled.

 The thunder of Cole’s gun drowned out my reply.

 The legs in my hands went limp. I turned to look. Cole’s shot had been right on target. The reaver died where he laid, his fingers still curled around the edge of the door. And out of that blasted third eye emerged a lovely magenta soul that flew off into the night like a comet.

 Vayl and I both moved back. I trained Grief on the spot where the reaver gang had holed up, but the ones who’d survived had scattered as soon as Yale passed.

 The clawed hands continued to pull Yale’s body through the doorway, and as his feet crossed the threshold the entire door disappeared with the boom of overhead thunder.

 CHAPTERTHIRTY- SEVEN

 Cassandra and Bergman met us at the RV door.

 “You’re back to yourself!” Bergman said the second Vayl pulled his helmet off.

 Vayl nodded wanly. “Apparently I simply needed some quiet time in the aftermath of the battle.”

 “Also a towel would’ve been nice,” I added. Although Vayl thought he’d reabsorbed a great deal of the armor, he’d still ended up wringing wet. And since I’d driven us home, that meant I now looked as if a football team had tried to douse me with the Gatorade cooler and only done half the job. The back half.

 We’d said our thank-yous and goodbyes to Jericho and the guys at the site, with a promise to return a cleaner, shinier Ninja to Jericho in the morning. The SWAT guys had volunteered to supervise the cleanup since we’d sort of saved the day with the festival. An unusually quiet, introspective Cole had stayed with them.

 As if reading my mind—and who knows, maybe she was— Cassandra said, “Where’s Cole?”

 “He’ll be back soon,” I said. “He’s with Jericho right now.”

 “And?”

 “I’m worried about him. He killed a couple of humans and the reaver today. He definitely wasn’t acting like himself when we left.”

 “He will be fine,” Vayl said irritably. He sounded almost . . . jealous. His next words confirmed my suspicions. “Why do you never concern yourself for me? The change I underwent has left me exhausted.”

 “Dude, you’re immortal. It’s not like you won’t get a second to catch up on your sleep.” Plus, I was feeling deeply drained myself, which left no room for commiseration in my book. Especially not with the vampire who’d sucked Cole into our business in the first place.

 Even though I wanted to roll into the RV and hit the bedroom so bad my bones actually ached, I dismounted Jericho’s Ninja with reluctance. I was in love with another man’s bike. It felt like a sin.

 Unfortunately Cassandra blocked my way inside. Which was when I finally registered the guilty look she shared with Bergman. He began. “We thought, you know, before you tear us a new one? We wanted to say we’re sorry.”

 “Yes,” Cassandra agreed. “It was our fault.”

 “Naturally,” I said, though I was at least a chapter behind them.

 Cassandra said, “I should have told you that spelled items can inhibit natural Sensitivities, like being able to see the weaknesses in the reaver’s shield. I knew that. But I said nothing because I thought Bergman would make some snide remark about magic. And because of my omission you . . . you could have died.” Tears sprang into her eyes.

 “And I should never have let my fears turn me into such an asshole. I . . . don’t want to cut our ties completely. You’re so damn interesting.” Plus, I was one of the only friends he had left. But being a guy, he wasn’t going to go there. “I just, it got so intense. But I’m sorry I let you down.” He looked at Cassandra and she nodded. “We both are.”

 It’s so true that the people most likely to kill you are those closest to you.

 I crossed my arms over my chest so I wouldn’t be tempted to shake them or maybe bang their heads together. I nearly told them if they wanted to hang out with me they’d better start acting like grown-ups instead of a couple of two-year-olds fighting over the good toys at the day care center. But then my arms started to ache. So did my hands and legs for that matter. I remembered Cassandra’s face when she took me to the hospital, and Bergman’s expression when they found me standing in the bay with the gun he’d built for me pressed against my temple.