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Authors: Eileen Rendahl

Tags: #Fiction, #Fantasy, #General

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BOOK: Don't Kill the Messenger
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He heaved another sigh. More cinnamon. My stomach growled. “You’re seriously here to check up on this Liu guy? You’re not just pulling my leg.” He sounded a teensy bit wistful. I started to wonder if it was hard to be the cutest patrol officer on the force. Did a lot of people not take him seriously?

 

“I’m seriously here to check up on the Liu guy.” The sincerity practically dripped from my voice. And why not? It wasn’t a lie. Ah, my friend truthiness again.

 

“Well, come on then,” he said. “I don’t have all night.”

 

That’s when it finally dawned on me. “Hey,” I asked. “Why are you here?”

 

 

 

 

 

 

6

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“THE NEIGHBORS CALLED.” OFFICER GOODNIGHT OFFERED ME A hand.

 

I took it and he lifted me to my feet without much of an effort. “Freaking nosey neighbors,” I grumbled.

 

“Gotta love ’em,” he said. He grinned and I could see the white of his teeth in the darkness. His mother must have been an oral-hygiene freak, too.

 

“I was here about ten seconds before you showed up.” I dusted the grass off my jeans.

 

He shrugged. “They were already worried. He hadn’t taken in his newspaper for a couple of days. He usually tells someone when he’s leaving town. Apparently he pays the neighbor kid two doors down to water his garden and stuff. They were surprised he hadn’t called.”

 

“So what now?” I asked. If he hadn’t been here, I would have continued with my discreet B-and-E plan. I’m not great with a lock-pick, but I can shimmy through a second-story window like nobody’s business. It’s kind of a catlike thing. Maybe that’s why dogs don’t like me.

 

“We knock on the door and do a wellness check on Mr. Liu.” Goodnight hitched up his pants and started toward the house.

 

“A what?” I squeaked. Wellness checks with my doctor generally require me to have my feet in stirrups. I thought this guy was cute, but I also thought he could at least take me to dinner and a movie first. I’m desperate, but I do have certain standards. Usually. I could probably be talked into making an exception. The dream that woke me up that morning still had my engine revving a little high.

 

“We’ll knock on the door. See if he answers. Maybe take a look in the windows and see if anything’s out of order. We already know the neighbors haven’t seen him.”

 

That was a big relief. I’d shaved my legs this morning but not all the way up, if you know what I mean. “He’s not going to answer the door,” I said, not moving. “I already tried that.”

 

He looked over his shoulder at me. The moonlight shone on his blond hair. “Okay. Let’s peek in the windows, then.”

 

Ooh. I loved this guy! I trotted after him to the big picture windows across the back of the house.

 

I looked inside and my heart sank.

 

Frank Liu’s place looked as though it had been hit by a cyclone. Wherever he’d gone, he hadn’t gone without a fight.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

OFFICER GOODNIGHT SWEPT ME BEHIND HIM WITH ONE ARM AS if to shield me from the sight of Liu’s trashed living room. I can’t remember the last time anyone tried to shield me from seeing something. Between the horror shows that routinely came through the ER and being a Messenger, I’d seen quite a bit. I wondered what he would have done if he’d been there when those creatures with the Post-it notes tacked to their foreheads had made the Norteños into their personal smorgasbord. Come to think of it, I wish he had been there. I would have liked not to have seen that.

 

He pulled his radio off his belt and started to talk.

 

“What are you doing?” I grabbed his arm and pulled the radio away from his mouth.

 

He looked down at me, brow furrowed. “I’m calling this in. I’m not sure I’ve seen too many clearer signs of foul play.”

 

How could I have forgotten? Goodnight was a cop. He was doing cop stuff. What was I thinking? I needed to get out of here, not indulge in doctor-and-naughty-patient fantasies.

 

I was supposed to be doing Messenger stuff, except in this case, I wasn’t sure exactly what that was. If my envelope from Alex was in the mess of broken lamps and overturned furniture that now filled Liu’s living room, I doubted that I would find it with the cops watching. Without that, I didn’t have a delivery to make.

 

Whatever had happened to Liu, he was a man, a ’Dane, a regular human. Surely it was the job of the very regular, very human, very ’Dane, very male cop in front of me to work on that.

 

“What is it, Ms. Markowitz?” he asked. He dropped his arm, but he was standing so close. I know I could have taken a step back, increased the distance between us so at least I wouldn’t feel the heat of his skin on my own or practically hear the measured beat of his heart.

 

I sighed. “Melina. Please call me Melina.”

 

“Only if you call me Ted.” Those Chiclet white teeth flashed again.

 

“Ted,” I said, “is there any way I could talk you into giving me just a few minutes lead before you call in your buddies?”

 

The grin disappeared. “Is there a reason you don’t want to be seen by the police, Melina?”

 

Well, yeah, about a million of them, but none that I could explain to Mr. Cookie Breath. “I’m just nervous. You know, after last night and everything.”

 

He nodded a little. “I guess I could see that.”

 

“It’s been a rough few days,” I continued. Maybe if I could play on those protector instincts of his, I’d be able to walk out of here without giving a statement or ending up down at police headquarters. “It’s not like you don’t know where to find me, right? I just want to go home.”

 

I swayed a little bit on my feet to give my words a little physical backup, and Goodnight reached out and caught me. Yep. The dude had a bona fide hero complex. He steadied me, his hands strong and large, easily encompassing my forearms. Then he pulled me to him.

 

Now, that I hadn’t expected. My face was pressed against his wide strong chest, my stomach to his stomach, my hips to his hips. He was warm and solid, and his hand was at the small of my back, making me want to arch into him. “It’s going to be all right,” he murmured into my hair.

 

What the hell? Was he trying to . . . comfort me?

 

“Don’t be frightened. We’ll figure out what happened here. I won’t let you get hurt.” He held me for a moment longer, not even making an attempt to grab my ass while he did so, even though his hand was just a few agonizing inches away.

 

I didn’t know what to do so I went with it. I let my body soften against his. Heat spread up through my body so fast that my knees really did feel a little bit weak. I clung a little tighter to him.

 

He groaned and pushed me away. “I can’t do this right now. I’ve got to call this in, but I’ll walk you to your car first. I’ll tell the guys that I didn’t see anyone back here, that whoever was back here was gone by the time I came.”

 

I brushed my hair out of my eyes. “Thanks,” I managed to whisper.

 

“My pleasure.” The grin was back. “I just want one thing in return.”

 

Oh, great. Nothing was ever free, was it? “What’s that?”

 

“Can I call you?”

 

 

 

I WAS EXHAUSTED BY THE TIME I GOT HOME. OF COURSE, THERE were no good parking places close by. Three blocks away, I finally found a space big enough for me to parallel park the Buick. I’d had next to no sleep, and while I don’t need a lot of sleep, I do need some. I am, after all, human. Or, at least, I think so. I’m never quite sure.

 

At first, my kind used to sort of spontaneously develop in places where we were needed. The best example I can give you is the sheephead. At least, that’s how Mae explained it to me back when I was ten.

 

The sheephead is a fish indigenous to California. They’re all born female. Once the need for a male arises, one of the sheephead switches teams, as it were. Scientists don’t know for sure how the sheephead know to change, or what about that one fish makes it the one to change. They just do.

 

We don’t really know why I was the one to become a Messenger twenty-some years ago. We’re pretty sure the whole drowning thing had a lot to do with it, except I’m not the only girl in the Sacramento area who’s had a near-death experience. Nor do I know exactly what was going on that made a Messenger necessary in Sacramento back in 1985, but something must have.

 

So why me? Why was I the one who got her life turned inside out and had to be a goblin gofer? What was there about me that made me the one who had to be a Messenger? It was another question Mae said I’d figure out when I was ready to know the answer. I hate it when she goes all Zen on me. Sometimes I think she does it on purpose just to irritate the crap out of me.

 

Regardless, I wanted my bed. I dragged myself up the stairs to my apartment, feeling each and every step, and focused solely on getting my sorry ass into something flannel and cozy. My key was already in the lock when I felt the hum. Someone—some thing—was in the apartment. Oh God. Norah. I slammed the door open, crouched in the door frame, ready to fight. I wasn’t watching any more death. I certainly wasn’t going to watch something attack Norah.

 

Norah and Alexander Bledsoe looked up from where there were seated very cozily on the futon couch. Alex smiled and held up a glass full of red liquid. “Care for a drink, Melina?” he asked.

 

Norah smiled at me woozily. I glared at Alex. “That goddamn well better be wine,” I said.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“YOU INVITED HIM IN,” I SAID TO NORAH IN THE KITCHEN. I actually more hissed it. I knew she had. He couldn’t have been here in my apartment otherwise. It’s a handy tidbit of vampire lore to remember. They can’t come in unless you invite them. Sadly, they’re very charming when they feel like it and get themselves invited to the most amazing places and events. Now I was going to have to figure out how to uninvite a vampire into your home. Thank heavens for the Internet and old episodes of
Buffy
.

 

“He said he was your friend.” Norah swayed slightly. “He said he needed to talk to you.”

 

“Uh-huh.” I crossed my arms over my chest. This must have been how my mother felt when I came home drunk from that party at Cynthia Clark’s in tenth grade. I could see about a million consequences, all of which Norah was oblivious to.

 

“Plus,” she said, giggling, “he’s cute. Way cute.”

 

It wasn’t like I didn’t know that. I suppose I should have warned Norah about him way before this, but seriously how do you tell someone that a vampire might stop by to chat and that you shouldn’t let him in. I didn’t like how glazed she looked right now. “Did he, uh, do anything to you?” Like bite your neck or your wrist or something? I added mentally. Another terribly awkward question.

 

Norah snorted, a completely out of character and very unladylike noise for her. “No. I did have a few too many martinis earlier tonight though. I think I’m going to bed now.” So much for the vodka cleanse.

 

“Good idea,” I told her. “Fabulous, even.”

 

Norah headed to her room, giving Alex a little finger wave as she passed by him. He blew her a kiss. I rolled my eyes.

 

I listened to her door click closed. “What did you do to her?”

 

Alex held his hands up as though I were robbing him. “Absolutely nothing. Vodka is strong stuff. People shouldn’t mess with it if they can’t handle it.”

 

I rubbed my hand over my eyes. I was so tired. “What are you doing here?”

 

He raised his eyebrows. “Is that any way to greet a friend?”

 

“I’m not sure what we are, but I don’t think it’s friends,” I said. I walked into the living room and curled up in the papasan chair across from the couch. I thought longingly of my bed. “I’m exhausted, Alex. I want to go to bed.”

 

It took a while for the smile to spread completely across his face. He leaned back and crossed his long legs in front of himself. “Please, don’t let me stop you. Would you like me to tuck you in?”

 

Another night, it would have been funny. Maybe even tempting. Tonight? Not so much. Between the ninja ass-kicking I’d taken, the gangbanger gore fest I’d witnessed and the run-in with Officer Goodnight I’d just returned from, all I wanted was the peace and solace of my bed. Alone. I looked blankly at Alex and didn’t say anything.

 

He might have been undead, but Alex wasn’t stupid. He set down his wineglass on a coaster on the coffee table. I wondered how many centuries it took to train a man to use a coaster. I’m betting my brother will have to be undead to have enough time to learn to use one. “I wanted to check on the package. Did Aldo say anything to you about it?”

 

“About that package,” I said. “What the hell was in it?”

 

Alex raised an eyebrow. “You don’t usually want to know.”

 

“Yes, well, ninjas don’t usually drop out of trees, kick the crap out of me and take off with whatever you’ve given me.”

 

Alex sat bolt upright. “So you didn’t make the delivery?”

 

I shook my head.

 

“Ninjas took it from you?”

 

I nodded my head. “Yes. And by the way, I’m fine, thanks. Just a little bumped and bruised.”

 

Alex ran his hand through his hair. Okay. Definitely no product. “What kind of ninjas?”

 

“A weird kind. They were doing tai chi.”

 

Alex threw his head back and asked the ceiling, “What did they do? Balance you to the ground?”

 

Wow. Maybe it was all the vampire pheromones in the air, but the strong column of his throat looked really tempting.

 

“No, as a matter of fact, they repelled-the-monkey’d me. And it hurt.” I truly had no dignity left whatsoever.

 

“Pardon me. Who uses tai chi as self-defense anymore?”

 

“Apparently, Taoist priests,” I said. “And furthermore, there is something seriously trippy going on down at the Bok Kai Temple.”
BOOK: Don't Kill the Messenger
6.99Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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