06 The Killing Dance Anita Blake

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"Why didn't you tell me?"
"And you would have done what? Go through the door first? You'd have taken a chest full of buckshot
and survived. How would you have explained that? You'd have been outed as a lycanthrope. You'd have
lost your job, at the very least."
"We could have called the police."
"And told them what? That Custard sniffed at the door? If they had investigated, they'd have gotten shot.
The guy was jumpy as hell. He shot through the door, remember? He didn't know who he was firing at."
He turned onto Olive, shaking his head. "You should have told me."
"What would it have changed, Richard? Except maybe you'd have tried to play hero, and if you
survived, you'd have lost your career."
"Dammit, dammit." He smashed his hands into the steering wheel over and over. When he looked at me,
his eyes had gone amber and alien. "I don't need you to protect me, Anita."
"Ditto," I said.
Silence filled the car like ice water. Nobody but the bad guy had died. I'd done the right thing. But it was
hard to explain.
"It wasn't that you risked your life," Richard said, "it was that you got rid of me before you did it. You
didn't even give me a chance. I have never interfered with you doing your job."
"Would you have considered this part of my job?"
"Closer to your job description than mine," he said.
I thought about that for a minute. "You're right. One of the reasons we're still dating is you don't pull
macho crap on me. I apologize. I should have warned you."
He glanced at me with eyes that were still pale and wolfish. "Did I just win an argument?"
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I smiled. "I admitted I was wrong. Is that the same thing."
"Exactly the same thing."
"Then give yourself a point."
He grinned at me. "Why can't I stay mad at you, Anita?"
"You're a very forgiving person, Richard. One of us has to be."
He pulled into my parking lot for the third time that night. "You can't stay at your place tonight. The door
is in pieces."
"I know." If I'd been kicked out of my apartment because it was being painted, I had friends I could stay
with, or a hotel, but the bad guys had proven they didn't care who got hurt. I couldn't risk anybody, not
even strangers in the next room at a hotel.
"Come home with me," he said. He parked in an empty space closest to the stairs.
"I don't think that's a good idea, Richard."
"The shotgun blast wouldn't have killed me. I'd have healed, because it wasn't silver shot. How many of
your other friends can say that?"
"Not many," I said quietly.
"I've got a house set back in a yard. You won't be risking innocent bystanders."
"I know you have a yard, Richard. I've spent enough Sunday afternoons there."
"Then you know I'm right." He leaned towards me and his eyes had bled back to their normal brown. "I
have a guest room, Anita. It doesn't have to be more than that."
I stared at him from inches away. I could feel his body like a force just out of reach. It wasn't his
otherworldly wolf powers. It was simply sheer physical attraction. It was dangerous agreeing to go to
Richard's house. Maybe not to my life, but to other things.
If Jimmy the Shotgun had had a partner inside the apartment tonight, I'd be dead now. I'd been so busy
concentrating on killing him that a second perp could have blown me away. Edward had told his contact
no by now, and it takes a little while to find another hitter of Edward's caliber. So, instead of waiting, they
hired cheap and local, taking the chance that cheap might take me out and they'd be saved several
hundred grand. Or maybe they wanted me dead really quickly for some reason that I didn't understand.
Either way, they wanted me dead 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 coming.
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."
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"You look so serious. What are you thinking, Anita?" [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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