better.”
“Not better. Easier. She’s quick to wield that damned sword, but not nearly so brave when it comes to personal confrontations. All those messy emotions. Blood is so much easier to clean up.”
Jeremy chuckled—that rich, deep chuckle that made herinsides flip, and she yearned to just stretch out on the bed and talk to him. Forget everything that was going on. But there was still a man standing outside her door and she should probably get dressed before she let him in.
“Yes, I would prefer that,” Jeremy said when she said as much to him. “He might not, but I would.”
She laughed. “All right, then. My adventure is over, thank God.” She paused. “But if you hear from Eve …”
“You’re mortally offended at being left behind.”
“Exactly.”
The poor guy had been waiting long enough. So, wrapped in her towel, Jaime opened the door an inch, told the man she was just popping into the bathroom to dress, then scampered off. At least a minute passed before she heard the motel door close. Anyone smart enough to be assigned as her escort would have the sense to realize that a sneak peek at Jaime Vegas in a towel wasn’t worth the risk of offending the werewolf Alpha.
She was almost finished dressing in her hastily wiped clothing when she heard another knock at the outside door. She frowned. The guard had come in—she was sure she’d heard him moving around the bedroom.
A high-pitched voice. “Mommy? Why’s the door locked?”
A sigh from the bedroom. The guard called back. “You’ve got the wrong room.”
“Mommy?” Louder pounding. “Is that you, Mommy?” Jaime threaded her belt through her slacks, then opened the bathroom door. The guard—a dark-haired guy in a suit—was staring out the window, his lips pursed.
“It sounded like a little girl,” Jaime said.
He glanced her way. “It is. I’ll get rid of her. But I’ll ask you step back in there until I do.”
Jaime nodded and retreated. He waited until she’d shut the door. She heard him undo the chain.
“Who’re you?” a girl asked.
“Not your mommy. Now, if you’ve forgotten your room number, go down to the office—”
“What did you do with my mommy? I heard her in here.” Jaime sighed. The girl sounded old enough to know better, but she kept insisting that her “mother” was in there and the more the guard argued, the more distressed she got.
Jaime stopped fussing with her wet hair and reached for the door handle. She could clear up this “mommy’s voice” problem by just sticking her head out.
As she twisted the knob, the guard yelled, “Hey! What do you think you’re—”
“I’m looking for my mommy. You’ve got her in here. I know you do.”
“Get back here, you little—”
A growl. Then a gasp of pain.
“What the—?”
A crash. Then the patter of footsteps on carpet. The guard’s cry, muffled, then garbled. Jaime yanked off her belt, wrapped it around her hand, and turned the knob slowly, her bare foot braced against the bottom. She eased it open, just enough to peer through and see—
Something flew at the door. It hit with a patter, like rain, some of it falling to the carpet. Bright red drops of blood sprayed across the wall and carpet.
Jaime shut the door fast and locked it. Then she looked around frantically for real weapons.
Weapons? Against something that was killing a trained Cabal operative? Her gaze rose to the window.
Was it big enough? It better be. She wrenched the towel bar,stumbling back in surprise when it actually came free in her hand. Thank God for shoddy construction. She wrapped the bar in a towel to muffle the noise, then smashed out the window. She managed to get most of the glass cleared, then someone—or something—began yanking on the door.
A quick sweep of the remaining glass and out she went, ignoring the slivers that bit into her stomach as she wriggled through. Had she been thinking, she’d have gone feet first. She didn’t, and tumbled
“Not better. Easier. She’s quick to wield that damned sword, but not nearly so brave when it comes to personal confrontations. All those messy emotions. Blood is so much easier to clean up.”
Jeremy chuckled—that rich, deep chuckle that made herinsides flip, and she yearned to just stretch out on the bed and talk to him. Forget everything that was going on. But there was still a man standing outside her door and she should probably get dressed before she let him in.
“Yes, I would prefer that,” Jeremy said when she said as much to him. “He might not, but I would.”
She laughed. “All right, then. My adventure is over, thank God.” She paused. “But if you hear from Eve …”
“You’re mortally offended at being left behind.”
“Exactly.”
The poor guy had been waiting long enough. So, wrapped in her towel, Jaime opened the door an inch, told the man she was just popping into the bathroom to dress, then scampered off. At least a minute passed before she heard the motel door close. Anyone smart enough to be assigned as her escort would have the sense to realize that a sneak peek at Jaime Vegas in a towel wasn’t worth the risk of offending the werewolf Alpha.
She was almost finished dressing in her hastily wiped clothing when she heard another knock at the outside door. She frowned. The guard had come in—she was sure she’d heard him moving around the bedroom.
A high-pitched voice. “Mommy? Why’s the door locked?”
A sigh from the bedroom. The guard called back. “You’ve got the wrong room.”
“Mommy?” Louder pounding. “Is that you, Mommy?” Jaime threaded her belt through her slacks, then opened the bathroom door. The guard—a dark-haired guy in a suit—was staring out the window, his lips pursed.
“It sounded like a little girl,” Jaime said.
He glanced her way. “It is. I’ll get rid of her. But I’ll ask you step back in there until I do.”
Jaime nodded and retreated. He waited until she’d shut the door. She heard him undo the chain.
“Who’re you?” a girl asked.
“Not your mommy. Now, if you’ve forgotten your room number, go down to the office—”
“What did you do with my mommy? I heard her in here.” Jaime sighed. The girl sounded old enough to know better, but she kept insisting that her “mother” was in there and the more the guard argued, the more distressed she got.
Jaime stopped fussing with her wet hair and reached for the door handle. She could clear up this “mommy’s voice” problem by just sticking her head out.
As she twisted the knob, the guard yelled, “Hey! What do you think you’re—”
“I’m looking for my mommy. You’ve got her in here. I know you do.”
“Get back here, you little—”
A growl. Then a gasp of pain.
“What the—?”
A crash. Then the patter of footsteps on carpet. The guard’s cry, muffled, then garbled. Jaime yanked off her belt, wrapped it around her hand, and turned the knob slowly, her bare foot braced against the bottom. She eased it open, just enough to peer through and see—
Something flew at the door. It hit with a patter, like rain, some of it falling to the carpet. Bright red drops of blood sprayed across the wall and carpet.
Jaime shut the door fast and locked it. Then she looked around frantically for real weapons.
Weapons? Against something that was killing a trained Cabal operative? Her gaze rose to the window.
Was it big enough? It better be. She wrenched the towel bar,stumbling back in surprise when it actually came free in her hand. Thank God for shoddy construction. She wrapped the bar in a towel to muffle the noise, then smashed out the window. She managed to get most of the glass cleared, then someone—or something—began yanking on the door.
A quick sweep of the remaining glass and out she went, ignoring the slivers that bit into her stomach as she wriggled through. Had she been thinking, she’d have gone feet first. She didn’t, and tumbled
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