lhamilton.thekillingdance-第9节
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ad pretty damn badly。 Usually； when someone wants you dead that badly； they succeed。 Not tonight or tomorrow； but unless Edward and I could find out who had put the contract out on me； the line of talent would just keep ing。
I stared into Richard's face； almost close enough to kiss。 I thought about never seeing him again。 About never touching him again。 About never satisfying that growing hunger that perfumed the air whenever I was with him。 I touched his face； lightly running my fingertips down his cheek。 〃Okay。〃
〃You look so serious。 What are you thinking； Anita？〃
I leaned in and kissed him。 〃Blood； death； and sex。 What else is there？〃
We got out of the car。 I filled my automatic fish feeder full of enough food for a week。 In a week's time； if the assassin was still after me； and if I was still alive； I'd have to e back。 All the bad guys had to do was stake out my fish tank； and they had me if they were patient enough。 Somehow I didn't think they would be。
I packed a few things； including my stuffed toy penguin； Sigmund； every weapon I owned； a few clothes； an outfit for tomorrow's date with Jean…Claude。 Yeah； probably I wouldn't be going； but I didn't want to e back to the apartment； not for anything。 I left a message on Ronnie's machine。 We usually worked out together on Saturday morning； but I didn't want Ronnie in the line of fire。 She was a private detective； but Ronnie wasn't a shooter； not like I was。 She had a certain respect for life that could get you killed。
Richard waited while I changed。 Black jeans； a royal blue polo shirt； white jogging socks with a blue stripe； black Nikes； and I felt more myself。 I laid the Browning's shoulder holster in my suitcase。 The Browning was my main gun； and I missed it。 I'd have missed it under normal circumstances； but now my hand ached for the gun。
I guess that's what backup guns are for。 The Firestar 9mm is a good gun and fits my hand well。 My hands are small enough that a lot of 9mms are just too big。 The Browning was about the limit of a fortable grip。 I wore the Firestar in an inter…pants holster； set for a forward cross draw； which meant you could see the gun。 I wasn't sure I cared tonight。
I put on wrist sheaths and both knives。 These were the last two of a foursome that I'd had custom made for my hands； with the highest silver content possible in the steel。 I'd had to have two of them replaced； monsters ate them。 I put the two new knives in the suitcase still in their felt…lined box。 They were pretty and sharp enough to cut your skin if you ran a thumb along the edge。
While I was having the lost knives replaced； I'd ordered a new one。 It was nearly a foot long； more a sword than a knife。 I'd had a leather harness made that let me carry it down my spine； with the hilt under my hair。 I hadn't used it before； but I'd seen it in a catalog and couldn't resist。
I had a Derringer； a sawed…off shotgun； two full…sized； pump…action shotguns； a twelve gauge； and a mini…Uzi。 The Derringer； the Uzi； and the sawed…off shotgun were all gifts from Edward。 Not Christmas or birthday gifts。 No； we'd be out hunting vampires together； and he'd give me a new toy。 I'd asked for the shotgun。
The full…sized shotguns wouldn't pack in either the suitcases or the gym bags。 I put them in their individual carrying cases； with straps。 The gym bags held my vampire hunting kit and my zombie paraphernalia。 I put extra ammo in both bags for temporary keeping。 Heck； I shoved extra ammo in the suitcase； too。 You could never have too much。
I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror。 The gun was pretty obvious against the bright blue of the shirt。 I finally put a black jacket over it； what they call a boyfriend's jacket； because it's sort of big through the shoulders and body。 The sleeves rolled back to expose the silky lining。 I liked the jacket； and with one button fastened； it hid the Firestar； though not pletely。 You'd still catch glimpses of it when I moved； but maybe people wouldn't run screaming。
I felt naked without the Browning； which was kind of funny； considering I had an Uzi in my suitcase。 But hey； I slept with the Browning。
Richard never said a word about the two shotguns。 Maybe he would have plained about the rest if he'd seen them； but he picked up one suitcase； put one gym bag over his shoulder； one shotgun carrying case on the same shoulder； and let me pick up my share。
〃Can you carry both suitcases？〃 I asked。
〃Yeah； but I'm shocked you asked。 The last time I tried to carry something unasked； you nearly handed me my head in a basket。〃
〃I want one hand free for my gun。〃
〃Ah；〃 he said； 〃of course。〃 He took the other suitcase without another word。 He really is a very wise man。
Mrs。 Pringle stepped out of her door as we were leaving。 She had Custard in her arms。 He growled briefly at Richard； and she hushed him。 〃I thought I heard you out here。 Are you all right； Anita？〃
I glanced at the hole by her door。 〃I'm fine。 How 'bout you？〃
She hugged Custard； raising his tiny furry body near her face。 〃I'll be all right。 Are you going to be charged？〃
〃It doesn't look like it。〃
〃Good。〃 She glanced at the suitcases。 One for clothes； one for weapons。 〃Where are you going？〃
〃I think I'm a little too dangerous to be around right now。〃
She searched my face like she was trying to read my mind。 〃How bad is this mess； Anita？〃
〃Bad enough；〃 I said。
She gently touched my hair； 〃You be very careful out there。〃
I smiled。 〃Always。 You take care of yourself； too。〃
〃Custard and I will take care of each other。〃
I petted Custard； rubbing his little fox ears。 〃I owe you a box of doggie treats； furball。〃 He licked my hand with a tiny； pink tongue。
〃When you can； give me your new phone number；〃 she said。
〃When I can； I'll e back。〃
She smiled； but her pale eyes stayed worried。
We left because we had to。 My imagination has always been too good for my own peace of mind。 I had a very clear image of Mrs。 Pringle splattered against the wall； that lovely； aging face blown away。 If she had opened the door at the wrong moment； I wouldn't be imagining it。 Too close； too damn close。
6
Richard's house was a one…story； half…brick ranch。 It looked like a house for children； and Mommy baking cookies in the kitchen。 It wasn't even set that far back off the road； but it had plenty of yard on either side and the backyard was an acre of woods。 You could look out both the sides and the back and not see a neighbor； except in winter when the bare trees revealed distant glimpses across the valley。 From the front picture window； you could see the corner of the next house half obscured by overgrown shrubs。 No one had lived in it the entire time I'd been visiting。 The place was a little isolated。 Richard liked that； and whether I did or not； I needed it now。
The place looked like an invitation for an ambush； but neighbors would have been cannon fodder。 Most bad guys try not to take out innocent bystanders。 It's not moral outrage； just bad for business。 The cops tend to put the heat on if you waste a lot of bystanders。
Richard hit the garage door opener and eased the Mustang into the garage。 His four by four was already inside。 I followed him in my Jeep。 I idled out on the street； waiting for him to move the four by four out so I could put the Jeep in。 Parking my Jeep out in front of his house seemed like making the bad guys' job a little too easy。 He pulled out。 I pulled in。 He parked behind me in the driveway and walked into the garage。 I unloaded the suitcases； and he hit the button by the interior door。
The door opened into the kitchen。 The walls were lined with Hogarth prints of dogs and more modern hunting scenes。 A Warner Brothers canister set； Bugs to Tweety Bird sat on the off…white cabinets。 The countertops were off white。 The cabinets light honey colored oak。 There were dishes draining on a towel by the sink； even though Richard had a dishwasher。 A glass； a bowl； a spoon； he'd washed his breakfast dishes before he left for work this morning。 I'd have poured water in them and left them in the sink。 Of course； I never ate breakfast。
Richard walked through into the living room； carrying one suitcase。 I followed； carrying the suitcase with the weapons in it。 I also had the two gym bags。
The living room had deep forest green carpet and pale yellow walls。 Cartoon lithographs took up the far wall。 The near wall was taken up with a wooden entertainment center that Richard had built himself。 There was a large…screen TV； a miniature stereo system that made mine sound like humming through a b； shelves of books； and closed doors that hid part of his extensive video collection and a portion of his CDs。 The rest of his books were in the basement； set in shelves along every wall。 There were still boxes he hadn't unpacked because he ran out of shelf space。
There was a large couch and a heavy wood coffee table。 The couch was green and brown； patterned with a yellow afghan thrown across it that his grandmother had made。 A small antique armoire sat against the far wall。 There was no other furniture in the room。
He'd set the suitcase in the smaller bedroom。 It had a twin bed； a nightstand； and a lamp。 The walls； the drapes； and the co
