Jennifer Rardin - [Jaz Parks 1] - Once Bitten, Twice Shy

'Is there anything I can do?' When I didn't answer right away, he said, 'Dammit, Jasmine, don't make me beg. I'm so frigging tired of being a useless old man I'm ready to volunteer. Yeah, I said it! Volunteer, like some God- fearing, church-going, one-foot-in-the-grave bastard who thinks he can save his shriveled old soul by doing five hours of good works a week.'

Only my father could have that kind of perspective on volunteerism. Twisted old poop. And yet, since we still didn't know the identity of our leak, I really could use somebody with his contacts. And it sounded like he could use the exercise, so to speak.

Feeling like I was taking a gondola ride through Surreal-land, I said, 'Actually, Albert, there is something you can do. Can you check out some senators for me?'

Chapter Seventeen

It must've been Albert's military background, because man, when he dropped a bomb the entire country shook. I was still jittery as a hurricane survivor in New Orleans, and I was sure that somewhere in Alaska some poor Inuit had just taken a tumble from his sled for the very same reason. Thirty seconds ago I'd discovered my dad was not only a mostly retired consultant for the Agency, he also maintained a few connections in Washington D.C. who could make my life much easier and quite a bit longer. Now I'd believe anything. If Cole and Bergman rushed in and told me pterodactyls were circling Cassandra's building, I'd run to the window to get a good look.

Speaking of which, they were about ready to burst in, despite my request for privacy. I could feel their anxiety through the door. I sighed. Already I missed the good old days when being Sensitive only pertained to vamps, and even then their feelings never entered into it. I also thought it would've been convenient to be able to open the door with a simple wave of the hand. Unfortunately my newfound abilities didn't lean that way. Maybe I could buy a really well-trained dog…

Sighing, I lurched to my feet and opened the door. They weren't pacing in the hallway as I'd expected. They were pacing in Cassandra's apartment.

'It's all right,' I said as I entered the room. They didn't exactly leap at me. In fact Cassandra stayed in her tall, wooden rocker and Bergman continued skulking back and forth behind her royal blue couch. Cole came and took my elbow, led me to the couch's matching recliner and sat me down gently.

'You're making me feel old,' I told him.

He just grinned. He sat on the granite-topped coffee table that visually connected the seating area to a red brick fireplace that held dozens of white candles.

'You okay?' he asked, inspecting me closely, perhaps to see if I'd grown an extra appendage during our brief separation. 'You look better than I expected you to.'

'I feel better than I probably should.'

'So things are squared away?'

'For the moment.'

'Can I get a ride back to my truck, then? I really do need to clean that pool or they'll think something's up.'

'Okay, but no snooping. Call me when you're done, too. I want to see those pictures.' I checked my watch. 'Jeremy ought to be up by then. I'll bring him along.' I looked at Bergman, raised my eyebrows. 'Follow us?'

He nodded. 'Then you and I need to talk.' He looked pointedly at Cole, 'alone.'

I wanted to snarl, 'Well, of course, alone. We already established that Cole would be going somewhere else!' Sometimes Bergman's paranoia made me want to break things. Like his neck. But, being a neurotic—I mean sensitive—genius, he continued to benefit from my best behavior. For now.

'Of course,' I replied, 'I'm anxious to hear what you have to say.' I rose and looked at Cassandra. 'Thank you for saving my brother. It was… wow… thanks.'

She nodded graciously. 'I'll see you later.'

'You will?'

'Yes.' She didn't elaborate so I let it go. No sense in chasing more problems. 'Until then, I must ask you to be very careful.'

'Who, me? Gosh, Cassandra, I guess I should've told you, there's no need to worry about me. At work they call me Safety Sue.'

She gave a very unladylike humph, which made me like her lots better.

The four of us trooped downstairs and, maybe seeing the way I'd ogled her fresh baked foods, Cassandra gave us each a free box of blueberry muffins to take with us.

'I love girls who bake,' sighed Cole as we drove back to his truck, with me behind the wheel this time. He launched into a rapturous monologue that featured, I kid you not, his mom's apple pies. From there he moved to his boyhood, oatmeal-cookie-stealing stories and by the time we reached his truck I'd inhaled two of Cassandra's freebies. I'd also decided that if I ever met Cole's mom I'd just come right out with it and ask her to adopt me.

I let him off at the corner. Bergman pulled alongside me and yelled, 'Follow me!' out the window, so I did. He drove a dark green work van with no windows in back and tinted windows in front. The words 'Flaherty's Fine Foods' were stenciled on the side in big gold letters that circled a picture of the sun, complete with curvy yellow beams, Blues Brothers shades and a big, toothy smile.

He drove to a large deserted park. No kids played on the red and yellow jungle gym. The benches were empty and so were several of the flowerbeds. He parked beside a pond with a working fountain and I got into the van beside him.

'Thanks for coming, Bergman. I really appreciate it.'

'No problem,' he said, though we both knew better. 'I'm sorry about all the secrecy, but you said to bring all the bells and whistles, and I didn't want anyone else to get a look at your new toys.'