Part 7 (1/2)
Phoebe's cheeks dimpled in a grin. ”She has a way, doesn't she?”
”A way. A mouth. An att.i.tude, but she does know what it is to live as a vampire. She deserves credit for at least trying to help us-even if it is with a chip the size of Gibraltar on her shoulder. Plus, I really think her bark is much worse than her bite.”
She took a step back from him, creating some much-needed s.p.a.ce. ”You've known her for all of, what-twenty minutes-and you've already evaluated her marshmallowy center?”
”It's been probably more like five or six hours. Long, long, loud, chaotic, violent hours,” he reflected on a wry grin. ”But again, what do we know about being vampires? What if something else as unexpected as your teleportation happens? Nina'd be our best shot at survival, and Mark needs someone to stay with him. Would poor Mark want that someone to be Nina?”
”Point.”
Sam smiled. He held out his hand to her. So n.o.ble. So filled with sincerity. So s.e.xy. ”Good. So we're in this together?”
Phoebe's reluctant brain wasn't as quick as her needy hand when she found her fingers straying toward his. ”Oh, I'm all for finding out why we're going to die as a team. I wouldn't have it any other way.”
Sam swept his arm comically in front of him. ”Then after you, milady.”
She held up a finger. ”Wait. Promise me something.”
”Name it.”
”Duck if you hear the words Barbie and my name in a sentence come out of Nina's mouth. I wouldn't want to damage those nice cheekbones if you get in my way when I clock her in the chops.”
He mock-preened. ”You like my cheekbones?”
”I'd kill small children for them.”
”You don't like kids?”
Kids. There'd be none of those for her. Not with a prognosis as grim as the one she'd been dealt. Rather than dwell, she shot him a flippant answer. ”Not as much as I like your cheekbones.”
He chuckled on his way out of the kitchen with a hesitant Phoebe lagging behind him.
SAM let his forehead rest against the door of his apartment, still disoriented by the idea that they'd run from Phoebe's place almost across town to his warehouse apartment in just under five minutes flat. The scientific half of his brain wanted to explore this incredible anomaly. The other half of it just wanted to find a quiet corner in which to mourn the pa.s.sing of an ice-cold Corona and chimichangas.
But there was work to do ...
Phoebe stood behind him, still rather dazed. ”We just ran ...”
Sam nodded. ”I know, right?”
She looked down at her feet and back up at him, her eyes adorably wide, her lips sweetly plump. ”I'm considering a spot on the track team at the Olympics. You know, as a fallback on the off chance I have no clients left when this is all said and done.”
”I think you'd look really cute in one of those leotards and running shoes.” He instantly nixed the visual of her naked and in running shoes. Bad, Sam. No biscuit.
But ...
No buts. You know better. No naked in running shoes or otherwise. Nip it, pal.
”Her a.s.s is too big for one of those leotards. It's definitely way too big to fit on a Wheaties box,” Nina taunted, giving Phoebe a playful punch in the shoulder before stretching her arms above her head.
”You know what, Nina?”
”What, Barbie?”
”I'm not going to respond to that.”
”That's because you're too slow.”
”No. It's because I'm still too astounded you actually knew what the word Olympics meant,” Phoebe shot back, sticking her face in Nina's and smiling.
Sam planted a hand on each woman's shoulder before Nina could get to Phoebe. ”Girls? Where is the love, I ask you? Play nice or I'll be forced to separate you.” He winked, then reached for his doork.n.o.b and remembered something vital. ”d.a.m.n. My purse. The keys are in my purse.”
Of all the things to lose. His thrift-store bargain purse. Thankfully, he'd only had a small amount of cash in it and his license. Nothing he couldn't live without or replace. Right now, all he wanted was to get the h.e.l.l out of this ridiculous outfit and have a moment to think.
”Move,” Nina ordered, shoving Sam out of her way and wrapping her hand around the doork.n.o.b to give it a good twist. The handle was mutilated, but the door was open. ”It's good to be a vampire, huh, Sammy?” She clapped him on his broad back with a chuckle.
Phoebe's eyes connected with his for a moment, wide and filled with the kind of wonder/terror he'd expressed himself at least half a dozen times or so since this had started. But then she straightened her spine and squared her shoulders; Sam found himself admiring her determination to show Nina she was no slacker in the suck-it-up, you're-a-vampire department.
He found himself admiring many things about her. Aside from her physical attributes, which were aplenty, he mostly admired the fact that she hadn't completely given in to the side of her that wanted to turn tail and run screaming. Instead, she plowed ahead right behind her fearless sister in a silent battle of who was the badder a.s.s.
Nina gave him a shove. ”Let's do this, Gigantor. We need to hurry it up if we're going to be back to our coffins in time for daylight. You know, so we don't f.u.c.king burn to death?”
Phoebe's grunt of displeasure inspired Sam to move. ”Right. Snap, crackle, pop. I'll make it fast.”
Upon entering his apartment, everything was pitch black; yet, he could see every single detail as though it were brightly lit.
Every messy detail of it.
”Are all bug lovers so messy?” Phoebe asked, stepping on a pile of clothes in the corner of the living room and stumbling over a stack of old National Geographics.
”Aw, h.e.l.l,” Sam muttered, reaching for the light switch and hissing along with Phoebe and Nina when the glare of the track lighting stung their eyes.
But the light brought with it clarity.
Nina's tongue clucked. ”G.o.dd.a.m.n it. Didn't I say some s.h.i.+t just wasn't right about what went down with you, Sammy?” she snarled, perusing Sam's overturned end tables and armchair. ”You've been jacked, dude.” She bent at the waist, lifting his mountain bike up with one finger and setting it upright. ”The motherf.u.c.kers.”
Stooping, Sam cleared a path through torn throw pillows and broken gla.s.s to make his way across the long length of his living room. The pictures that had adorned the deep barn red of the walls were ripped off, the frames shattered in black enamel pieces scattered over the barn wood flooring. His chest of drawers that he used to keep his live specimen containers and various other tools of the entomology trade had been tipped over, the drawers yanked free of the wood.
”Oh, Sam. I'm sorry,” Phoebe whispered from her corner of his living room, stooping to pick up a fallen planter that once held the clippings of a Christmas cactus his mother had given him years ago so he'd always think of her. He took it with him wherever he went.
Sam's eyes scanned the room to a.s.sess the damage and noted how odd it was that the fifty-two-inch flat screen and sound system were still intact. ”I'm beginning to think you're right. But what is it that I have, and who the h.e.l.l wants it?” He kept his face expressionless, but his thoughts were moving a mile a minute.
”Shouldn't we call the police?” Phoebe asked, the tremor of fear in her voice easy to detect with his newly defined hearing.
Nina hunched her shoulders forward and scoffed. ”And tell them what, princess? That we think some vampires trashed Sam's apartment? Do you want to end up in the nearest House of Crazy? We can't have cops here asking a bunch of questions we'll only have to lie about the answers to anyway. Remember the lay-low rule? That applies to everything from now on-which means this is clan business.”
”Then maybe you should get to dialing clan nine-one-one-because I think Sam's been robbed, Bat Girl,” Phoebe drawled, shooting Nina an arrogant raise of her eyebrow.
Sam clenched his fists and searched for the patience to deal with two women so at odds. ”Nina's right. Until further inspection, I can't see that they did anything more than toss the place. My bike's still here. The TV and surround sound. I don't keep money lying around. I don't get it.”
And then his eyes strayed to his desk, the desk that had been his since he was a kid in college. Something else that went with him wherever he went. The one that still held his O-Tech laptop and personal desktop computer.