Destined for an Early Grave (9 page)

The soft way he said the words made them even more emphatic. Fury, denial, and jealousy spat out my words faster than I could think.

“Damn you for being a conscienceless whore.”

Bones didn’t take his eyes off me, nor was his response any louder.

“That’s what you married, Kitten. A conscienceless whore. But if you recall, I never pretended to be anything else.”

Yeah, I knew he’d been a gigolo when he was human, but that’s not what stung.
If only his screwing around had stopped once he didn’t need the money to survive,
I thought bitterly.
But no. After he became a vampire, he did it for fun, as he just reminded me.

I didn’t want him to know how much his past still had the power to hurt me, so I drew my mental shields around me. They were my only defense to shut him out. Then I looked out the window. I couldn’t bear the sight of his beautiful face at the moment.

Bones let go of me and sat back. We didn’t speak the rest of the trip.

Y
EE-HAW!”

The cry made me shake my head. A bar with an inside rodeo. Nope, I wasn’t kidding. It even had a live, snorting bull. For the listed price, proof of prior experience, several signed waivers, and a complete lack of common sense, anyone could ride it, too.

Bones and I were still barely speaking. I told him about the rumor of me wanting to turn into a ghoul, but beyond that, we didn’t talk much. Nothing else was going on, either, and that may have been mutual. When we reached the Fort Worth motel after a straight day of driving, I swallowed the pills Don had sent to me and passed out. The most intimate moment I’d had with Bones was when he woke me with his wrist against my mouth. I’d swallowed his blood, declared that I needed to shower, and that was that. He was dressed and waiting for me when I came out, coolly detached with nothing but business to discuss. The invisible wall between us was worse than fighting, in my opinion.

Bones was meeting a ghoul contact at this bar. He didn’t like the ghoul rumor going around about me and wanted to see how seriously it was being taken. Spade was meeting us here, too, since Hopscotch, Band-Aid, and Liza were being quarantined.

Fabian proved helpful by checking out the bar first, making sure this wasn’t a setup with the ghoul. Only two things cheered me from my current depressed mood. My best friend Denise lived in Texas now, so she was coming tonight. The other plus to the evening was that Cooper, my friend and former team member, was coming, too. Spade was picking both of them up.

When they walked into the bar, I was so glad to see them that I almost shoved past people in my way. Denise returned my hug, albeit with less desperate fervor, and Cooper was somewhat taken aback by my fierce embrace.

Spade came in behind them. He cast an appraising glance at Bones and me while he said hello. No doubt mentally weighing our friction.

“I say, Crispin, you’d look better if you were being nailed inside a wooden box,” he commented. His gaze flicked around the bar with mild distaste. “No doubt this wretched music’s to blame. I don’t know why country singers feel the need to set depression to a melody.”

Denise smiled. “I think this place is great. Is that a bull?”

“You bet.” As if commanded, the animal snorted unhappily. He and I were in perfect agreement.

“Oh, I wish I could ride it,” she said.

It was good to see Denise smile. In truth, I hadn’t seen her much at all recently, smiling or otherwise. After her husband Randy was killed, Denise stayed with Bones and me for a few weeks. Then she went back to Virginia, saying she wanted to get away from everything supernatural.

I couldn’t blame her. It was a supernatural attack that had killed Randy; why wouldn’t Denise want to get away from the reminders of that? Then she moved to Texas about two months ago, remarking it was the only way she could keep her mother from trying to set her up with other men. Denise wasn’t ready to come out of mourning yet. I couldn’t blame her there, either.

“Cooper, mate, good to have you with us,” Bones said. “Stick with the ladies whilst Charles and I go off for a moment. I’m sure Kitten wants to hear all about what’s going on with her old team.”

With that, he turned away. Spade went with him, leaving the three of us standing on the outskirts of the bull ring.

Son of a bitch.

Not that I didn’t want to spend time with Denise and Cooper, but it was my ass they were discussing with the ghoul contact. Seemed only fair that I got to be in on the details.

“…remodeled the Wreck room to include…are you listening, Commander?”

Only then did Cooper’s stream of dialogue penetrate. “Ah, sorry, Coop. I need a drink,” I said, heading for the nearest bar.

I ordered a gin, no tonic, and drank it before it even hit the wooden counter. The bartender gave me a look as I slid the empty shot glass at him for a refill.

“That’ll be nine-fifty, ma’am.”

“Of course,” I began, reaching into my jeans before I froze in embarrassment. I didn’t have a wallet on me. No, the only currency I carried was about ten pounds of silver under my shirt and in my pants. God, this was the last straw.
Wait, bartender, while I find Bones so I can get my allowance.

“Here, keep the change. And pour two more just like it.”

Cooper threw money on the table. Denise sat next to me, her hazel eyes wide.

“Cat, are you okay? You look like you might blow a fuse.”

The bartender filled the drinks and passed them over. Cooper handed me the third one after I gulped the second as quickly as the first.

“I’m fine.”

No use articulating the many things that were wrong. Misery might love company, but Denise had had enough of that without me piling on.

“You don’t seem fine.”

I didn’t want to get into it, but I didn’t want to tell her that. Instead, I sought for a distraction. “Look, the bull’s out!”

With Denise’s attention fixed on the amateur cowboy struggling on top of the bull, I was able to avoid her scrutiny. Across the crowd of people, I saw Bones nudge Spade, then they turned their attention to a tall, very thin, very dead man who approached. Must be the ghoul contact. Soon the three of them melted into the crowd.

I sighed, covering it with a smile as Denise turned back to me.

“That’s so cool! Let’s grab more liquor, Cat. Maybe you can jump on next.”

I’d have loved to drink more liquor, but since Bones and Spade just went off with the contact, I couldn’t very well go over to him and demand his wallet.

“Denise, how much money do you have on you?”

She frowned. “Oh crap, I left my purse in Spade’s car.”

Cooper reached again in his pants. “I should have brought my credit card. This should last…” he pulled out a wad of twenties and gave it a critical glance “…ten minutes.”

Good old Coop. Can’t say the man didn’t know how the half-dead could pack it away.

“I’ll pay you back,” I promised, feeling like a poor relation.

Cooper’s prediction turned out to be wrong. It was almost half an hour before his cash ran out. Of course, I hadn’t counted on the nearby men offering to buy Denise and me drinks. I refused, but Denise took one drink per male offering, thanking the guys but giving a firm “no” to a second. Most of them took it with friendly, mock disappointment, but a large guy with bushy brown hair needed a little more persuading.

“Aw, come on, honey,” he said to Denise, “let’s dance.”

His hand landed on her leg. My brows shot up. Cooper started to stand when I smacked the man’s offensive paw aside.

“My friend only dances with me.”

Denise smiled. “Sorry.”

The guy gave me an evil, disgusted look, and walked away, his three friends in tow.
Too bad, Bushy Hair,
I thought.

“Nicely done, Commander,” Cooper commented.

“Stop calling me that.”

I didn’t mean to sound so sharp. Cooper just didn’t realize the title kept reminding me that my position as leader was forever gone. Right now, sitting at a bar trying without success to drown my sorrows, I felt pretty useless.

Denise glanced between the two of us. “I think we should get my purse now,” she said.

Cooper and I walked Denise to Spade’s car. It was unlocked, to my surprise. When I questioned that, Denise shrugged and said Spade had remarked that locks just kept honest people out. Her purse was still tucked under the passenger seat where she’d left it. Denise had just slung it over her shoulder when the slurred drawl behind us stopped her.

“Well, now, boys, lookie what we found.”

I’d heard them approach. Their smell, loud steps, and obvious heartbeats made them far from stealthy, but since they were human, I hadn’t been concerned.

“Beat it, guys,” I said.

Bushy Hair from the bar didn’t stop. Neither did his two pals, who were equally large.

“Now we was just sayin’,” Bushy Hair began with a slur that revealed how drunk he was, “that it weren’t fair two such pretty gals was only playin’ with this here Negro.”

“Negro?”

Cooper repeated the word with open challenge. God, a trio of bigots. Just what the doctor
didn’t
order.

“I’ll handle this,” I said coldly. These dumb-asses didn’t know I was the most dangerous of the group. They kept concentrating on Cooper, seeing only the well-built male as the threat.

“Here’s some really good advice: Start walking. I’m in a bad mood, so get the fuck out of here before you get on my last nerve.”

I didn’t bother reaching in my clothes to get my silver. On humans, I didn’t need weapons. Spade had parked in the far back corner of the lot. These chumps thought that spelled opportunity, but they were wrong.

It did surprise me, though, when Bushy Hair pulled a gun from underneath his shirt. He aimed it at Cooper.

“You.” There was an ugly resonation to his voice. “You’re gonna sit on that ground while we make nice with your gals.”

“Cooper.” It came from me in an incensed growl. I wasn’t risking him or Denise getting shot. “Do as he says.”

Cooper had been following my orders for a long time. He made a furious noise but sat as directed. From the way Bushy Hair handed off the gun to his friend, he was satisfied.

“That’s real smart, redhead.” He leered. “Now, you just stand by my buds while your friend and I get in this backseat.”

I went right to his friends like he said. After all, one of them had the gun. If I quietly coldcocked them, there’d be no nasty scene—

Bushy Hair only got to place his hand on Denise before I felt a whoosh. I had an instant to tense before I realized who it was, and then there was a sickening thump. Or, to be more accurate, a splat.

It was difficult to say who had the most horrified look on their faces—the two men Bones now had dangling from their necks, or Denise as she stared at the remains of Bushy Hair’s head. Spade stood next to her, muttering something foul, then he kicked the twitching figure of Bushy Hair hard enough to have him ricochet off her car. Spade had flung the man to the ground so viciously, his head looked like a watermelon dropped from five stories.

“Denise, are you all right?” Spade asked.

“He’s…. he’s…” Denise didn’t seem to know what to say.

“Really, really dead,” I supplied, relieved that two vampires flying at high speeds over a parking lot hadn’t attracted attention. “Bones, let them go, you’re killing them.”

“That’s the point,” he answered, still holding them by their throats. “I’d break their necks, but that would be too quick.”

They kicked and clawed at his wrists while their tongues protruded from their mouths. Denise looked like she was going to throw up.

“Why did you have to kill him?” she whispered to Spade.

“Because of what he intended to do,” Spade replied, low and fierce. “No one deserves to live after that.”

Cooper gave the body a pitiless glance. “We need to move him, Commander.”

I didn’t bother to comment about the title. First things first.

“Bones.”

He glanced at me as if there weren’t two dying men in his hands. Their limbs were moving slower now. One of them urinated, darkening the blue in his jeans. Clearly, he wasn’t just trying to scare them.

“At least don’t do it here.” I stalled. “This is too public, and you’re freaking Denise out. Throw them in the trunk, and we’ll fight about it on the way out. If you win, you get to strangle them twice.”

His lip curled. “I know what you’re trying to do, luv, but in this case, you make a valid point.”

He dropped them, and they fell like twin bags of bricks. Harsh, gurgling noises came from them as they began to breathe again.

I heard some people approach. They were laughing, minding their own business—and about to stumble onto a messy murder scene and two half-strangled men.

“Spade, take our car and get Denise out of here,” I said. “You can meet up with us later. Cooper, open the trunk, let’s get him in here.”

“Blue Forerunner, mate, other side of the lot,” Bones directed, tossing keys to Spade. Another set was passed to him in the same manner. “Ring you on the morrow.”

Spade took Denise away, pausing only to stop the people from coming over with a flash of green.

“Get back inside, you’re staying longer,” he instructed them. They nodded, did a one-eighty, and returned to the bar. Poor folks would probably stay all night.

“Cooper, I don’t want you getting bloody, you can’t green-eye someone into forgetting about it,” I said as I hefted the lifeless man into the trunk. “Grab one of the others and toss him in.”

Cooper complied, picking up the nearest guy and shoving him into the trunk.

Bones lifted the remaining man and shook him. “If I hear a single peep out of either of you, I’ll shut you up the permanent way. Now, before I lock you in the boot, where’s your car?”

“Unngghh,” the guy in his grasp said. “Unngghh…”

“You damaged his windpipe, he can’t talk,” I noted.

“Indeed.” Bones scored the tip of his finger across a fang, smiled wolfishly into the man’s terrified face, and thrust his bloody finger into his mouth. “Now, answer me. Softly. Or I’ll rip your tongue out and ask the other bloke.”

With even that small drop of Bones’s blood, the man could speak again, if not very intelligibly.

“…white ’ickup ’ruck…”

“The white pickup truck with the Confederate flag near the front?” Bones queried with another shake. “That it?”

“…essss…”

“Who’s got the keys?”

A wracking cough, then a pained moan followed his response. “Kenny…’ocket…’illed him…”

“In the dead bloke’s pocket?”

“Unngh.”

“Kitten, if you would?”

I began digging inside the pants of the body. Nothing, front or back. Then I patted down the shirt pockets. Bingo.

“Here.”

“Cooper, take their ride and drive it to Twenty-eighth and Weber Street. Wait there, we’ll pick you up when we’re through.”

“Keep your cell handy, just in case,” I added, not commenting about the irony of a black man driving a truck with a Rebel flag.