Anita Blake, Vampire Hunter Colletion_ Books 6-10 - Laurell K. Hamilton [462]
I heard the second man before he touched Jason’s shoulder with the tip of a double-barreled shotgun. The moment I saw the shotgun, I knew they’d come to kill us. You didn’t go after people with shotguns if you just meant to scare them, not as a general rule, anyway.
If it were silver shot at this range, he could have killed both of us. I wasn’t scared yet. I was pissed. Where the hell was our backup?
Jason raised his face slowly. The shotgun tapped his cheek almost gently. “My brother Mel sends his regards.”
I rolled my eyes to look past the shotgun. The man was wearing a black T-shirt with a Harley logo on it. His belly hung out over his belt. There was a family resemblance.
I said very calmly, each word careful but not scared, “What do you want?”
Mel’s brother laughed.
The first man joined him.
They stood over us with the guns and laughed. Not a good sign. Where the fuck was Jamil?
“Get off of her real slow,” the first man said. The rifle was at his shoulder now, snuggled against his chin like he knew what he was doing.
Jason leaned over me until I was as hidden as I could get under his body. Being short made it hard for him to shield me completely.
I told him. “Get off of me.”
“No,” he said. He’d seen the shotgun, too. And I realized he understood what it meant. I was not going to let him die a hero. I was certainly not going to let him die by spattering his brains all over me. Some things you recover from. Some things you don’t. Wiping Jason’s brains off my face might be one of the latter.
I let go of the knife in my right hand, letting the blade lie in the leaves. It took everything I had not to tighten my grip on the one in my left. I tried to keep my hand very still. In the dark, they might not notice. They hadn’t, so far.
“Get off of her,” the man repeated, “or I will shoot you both where you lay.”
“Off, Jason,” I said softly.
He moved enough so we could see each other’s eyes. I looked to my right at the rifleman. Then I touched my chest and looked at Mel’s brother. I was trying to tell him that the rifle was his problem and the shotgun was mine. I hoped he understood. Either he did, or he had his own plan, because he raised very slowly and got to his knees. I sat up, not too fast, not too slow. I kept my left hand in the leaves, knife gripped tightly.
The rifleman said, “Hands on your head, boy.”
Jason didn’t argue. He just clasped his hands on his head like he’d done it before.
No one told me to put my hands on my head, so I didn’t. If we were lucky, they’d treat me like a girl. The rifleman had been unconscious when I hurt Mel. The one with the shotgun hadn’t been there. What had Mel told them?
The rifleman said, “Remember me, asshole?”
“Is he asking you or me?” I asked. I scooted in the leaves a little closer to the guy with the shotgun.
“Don’t get cute, chickie,” the rifleman said. “We came here for both of you, but I want my piece of this one first.”
Jason flicked his eyes to me. “You must be losing some of your charm, Anita. He wants a piece of me instead of you.”
The rifleman had the rifle aimed very steadily at the middle of Jason’s chest. If it were silver ammo, he was gone. The rifleman said, “Chuck.”
Chuck, the one with the shotgun, grabbed my left arm. I opened my hand and let the knife fall before he raised my hand free of the leaves. The rifle was too steady on Jason for me to try stabbing Chuck. If I were lucky, I’d get another chance. If I wasn’t, I was going to come back and haunt Jamil.
Chuck’s hands were big and meaty. Thick fingers dug into my arm enough that if I lived, I’d be bruised.
“If you don’t do exactly what I say, your girlfriend gets it.”
I wanted to say, “Who writes your dialogue?” but I didn’t. The shotgun hovered about an inch from my cheek. Pretty clear what it was. I could smell the oil in the gun barrels. It had been cleaned recently. Nice