Anita Blake, Vampire Hunter Colletion_ Books 6-10 - Laurell K. Hamilton [286]
I missed Sunday afternoons watching old musicals. Saturday hiking through the woods, bird-watching, or entire weekends of rafting on the Meramec. I missed hearing about his day at school. I missed him. The body was just a very nice bonus. I wasn’t sure there were enough roses in the world to make me forget what Richard had almost been to me.
He stalked away towards the stairs and his interrupted shower. If I’d been as strong of will as I liked to think, I wouldn’t have watched him walk away. I had a sudden vivid image of licking water off his chest and jerking that tiny white towel away. The image was clear enough that I had to turn away and take a few deep breaths. He wasn’t mine anymore. Maybe he never had been.
“I don’t mean to interrupt the stud watch,” Jamil said, “but who is the dead guy, and why did he try to kill you?”
If I thought I’d been embarrassed before, I was wrong. The fact that I’d let the shit with Richard distract me from the much more vital question of the would-be murderer just proved that I wasn’t up on my game. It was too careless for words. The sort of carelessness that can get you killed.
“I don’t know him,” I said.
Louie lifted the sheet that someone had thrown over him. “I don’t recognize him either.”
“Please,” Ronnie said. She was looking somewhere between grey and green again.
Louie let the sheet fall back, but it was flatter somehow and clung to the top of his head. The blood soaked up the cotton like oil to a wick.
Ronnie made a small sound and ran for the bathroom.
Louie watched her run out. I watched him watch her. He caught me looking and said, “She’s killed people before.” The implied “why is this worse?” went unsaid.
“Once before,” I said.
He stood up. “Did she react like this?”
I shook my head. “I think it was the sight of his brains leaking all over the porch that did it.”
Gwen walked into the room. “A lot of people who can take the sight of blood don’t like to see other things leaking out.”
“Thank you, Ms. Therapist,” Jamil said.
She turned to him like a small blond storm, her otherworldly energy spiraling through the room. “You are a homophobic bastard.”
I raised eyebrows. “I miss something?”
“Jamil is one of those men who believes that every lesbian is just a heterosexual woman waiting for the right man. He was persistent enough to me that Sylvie kicked his ass.”
“Such language from a trained therapist,” Jason said. He’d rushed up from the basement where the vampires were stored for the day when the shooting started. When the excitement died down, he’d gone back to check on everybody.
“All quiet down below?” I asked.
He gave me that grin of his that managed to be both mischievous and just a touch evil. “Quiet as a tomb.”
I groaned because he expected it. But the smile left my face before it left his. “Could it be the council?” I asked.
“Could what be the council?” Louie asked.
“Whoever sent the hit man,” I said.
“Do you really think he was a hit man?” Jamil asked.
“You mean was he a professional assassin?”
Jamil nodded.
“No,” I said.
“Why wasn’t he a professional?” Gwen asked.
“Not good enough,” I said.
“Maybe he was a virgin.” Jamil said.
“You mean a first timer?”
“Yes.”
“Maybe.” I glanced at the sheet-covered lump. “He picked the wrong career.”
“If it had been some suburban housewife or an investment banker, he’d have done okay,” Jamil said.
“Sounds like you know.”
He shrugged. “I’ve been an enforcer since I was fifteen. My threat’s not worth anything unless I’m willing to kill.”
“How does Richard feel about that?” I asked.
Jamil shrugged again. “Richard’s different, but if he wasn’t, then I’d be dead. He’d have killed me right after he killed Marcus. It’s standard op for a new Ulfric to kill the old leader’s enforcers.”
“I wanted you dead.”
He smiled and it was tight, but not altogether unpleasant. “I know