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Guilty Pleasures :: Гамильтон Лорел
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“Tellthat to Catherine and her fiancй if things go bad.”
“Anita, dammit, these creatures are using you. They want you discouraged and frightened, so they can control you. If you let the guilt mess with your head, you're going to get killed.”
“Well, gee, Ronnie, just what I wanted to hear. If this is your version of a pep talk, I'll skip the rally.”
“You don't need cheering up. You need a good shaking.”
“Thanks, I already had one last night.”
“Anita, listen to me.” She was staring at me, eyes intense, her face searching mine, trying to see if I was really hearing her. “You've done all you can for Catherine. I want you to concentrate on keeping yourself alive. You're ass deep in enemies. Don't get sidetracked.”
She was right. Do what you can and move on. Catherine was out of it, for now. It was the best I could do. “Ass-deep in enemies, but ankle-deep in friends.”
She grinned. “Maybe it'll even out.”
I cradled the coffee in my bandaged hands. Warmth radiated through the cup. “I'm scared.”
“Which proves you aren't as stupid as you look.”
“Gee, thanks a lot.”
“You're welcome.” She raised her coffee cup in a salute. “To Anita Blake, animator, vampire slayer, and good friend. Watch your back.”
I clinked my cup against hers. “You watch yours, too. Being my friend right now may not be the healthiest of avocations.”
“Since when was that a news bulletin?”
Unfortunately, she had a point.
17
I had two choices after Ronnie left: I could go back to sleep, not a bad idea; or I could start solving the case that everyone was so eager for me to work on. I could get by on four hours sleep, for a while. I could not last nearly as long if Aubrey tore my throat out. Guess I would go to work.
It is hard to wear a gun in St. Louis in the summertime. Shoulder or hip holster, you have the same problem. If you wear a jacket to cover the gun, you melt in the heat. If you keep the gun in your purse, you get killed, because no woman can find anything in her purse in under twelve minutes. It is a rule.
No one had been shooting at me yet; I was encouraged by that. But I had also been kidnapped and nearly killed. I did not plan on it happening again without a fight. I could bench press a hundred pounds, not bad, not bad at all. But when you only weigh a hundred and six, it puts you at a disadvantage. I would bet on me against any human bad guy my size. Trouble was, there just weren't many bad guys my size.
“Tellthat to Catherine and her fiancй if things go bad.”
“Anita, dammit, these creatures are using you. They want you discouraged and frightened, so they can control you. If you let the guilt mess with your head, you're going to get killed.”
“Well, gee, Ronnie, just what I wanted to hear. If this is your version of a pep talk, I'll skip the rally.”
“You don't need cheering up. You need a good shaking.”
“Thanks, I already had one last night.”
“Anita, listen to me.” She was staring at me, eyes intense, her face searching mine, trying to see if I was really hearing her. “You've done all you can for Catherine. I want you to concentrate on keeping yourself alive. You're ass deep in enemies. Don't get sidetracked.”
She was right. Do what you can and move on. Catherine was out of it, for now. It was the best I could do. “Ass-deep in enemies, but ankle-deep in friends.”
She grinned. “Maybe it'll even out.”
I cradled the coffee in my bandaged hands. Warmth radiated through the cup. “I'm scared.”
“Which proves you aren't as stupid as you look.”
“Gee, thanks a lot.”
“You're welcome.” She raised her coffee cup in a salute. “To Anita Blake, animator, vampire slayer, and good friend. Watch your back.”
I clinked my cup against hers. “You watch yours, too. Being my friend right now may not be the healthiest of avocations.”
“Since when was that a news bulletin?”
Unfortunately, she had a point.
17
I had two choices after Ronnie left: I could go back to sleep, not a bad idea; or I could start solving the case that everyone was so eager for me to work on. I could get by on four hours sleep, for a while. I could not last nearly as long if Aubrey tore my throat out. Guess I would go to work.
It is hard to wear a gun in St. Louis in the summertime. Shoulder or hip holster, you have the same problem. If you wear a jacket to cover the gun, you melt in the heat. If you keep the gun in your purse, you get killed, because no woman can find anything in her purse in under twelve minutes. It is a rule.
No one had been shooting at me yet; I was encouraged by that. But I had also been kidnapped and nearly killed. I did not plan on it happening again without a fight. I could bench press a hundred pounds, not bad, not bad at all. But when you only weigh a hundred and six, it puts you at a disadvantage. I would bet on me against any human bad guy my size. Trouble was, there just weren't many bad guys my size.