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“Besides, we’re like Robin Hoods.” Boudreaux laughed. “Robbing from the rich and the bad and giving to the poor”—he rubbed his hand over his bald head—“and the devilishly handsome.”
Dax nodded and joined him in the laugh. What was a little friendly wealth redistribution among friends? He tucked himself in line after Tomi as the trio worked their way toward the garage.
When Boudreaux opened the door leading from the house into the garage, he stopped and whistled appreciatively. “This is going to be a nice little pay day.”
His boys were already inventorying the cars and had a few running and ready to go.
“Dax, you go take a walk and see if there’s anything you like.”
Nodding to Boudreaux, he strolled into the garage and walked past lines of modern luxury cars and sports cars. None of those fit his tastes. Also, they’d stick out like a sore thumb in the neighborhoods he frequented. He’d almost given up when he reached the back corner and found a classic—a 1965 Lincoln Continental hardtop sedan.
“This is it.” Dax walked up to the driver’s side and peered inside the window. The upholstery looked perfect.
“It’s canary yellow, Dax,” Tomi said, looking into the window next to him.
Dax stood up and turned around. “Boudreaux, can you paint a car for me?”
“Paint? Shit yeah, that’s easy,” he called from the other side of the garage.
“This Lincoln Continental is mine.” He set his hand on the hood.
“I’ll call Tomi when it’s done. What color?”
“Black.”
Boudreaux stood up from the car he was inspecting and threw back his head and laughed, the deep rich sound filling the garage. “Of course.”
Want to know more about Dax?
Read the first book in his series: A Shot for Death
About C. Thomas Lafollette
C. Thomas Lafollette is a student of history and a world traveler. He’s dined with a Prime Minister, read poetry with Yevgeny Yevtushenko, and drank beer with monks. He’s the author of the action-adventure urban fantasy series Luke Irontree & The Last Vampire War and the forthcoming Red City Reaper series. Besides reading and writing, he loves a good action movie, be it a Hollywood blockbuster or a classic Samurai flick, as well as the occasional rom-com. He lives in Portland with his partner – the devastatingly talented author Amy Cissell – his stepdaughter, and their two jerkface cats.
Hunting the Guide
By Amy Cissell
Hunting the Guide by Amy Cissell
Archibald is a magical cat, trained to be the Guide for the First Valkyrie. However, when an enforcer comes to take him to stand trial for his crimes, the two of them run into even more trouble. Now forced to fight alongside each other, can Archibald and the enforcer put aside their differences long enough to survive the night?
Chapter One
Archibald paused at the edge of the tree line and looked around.
When he deemed the road clear of traffic and anything else that might be a danger to an enterprising young magical cat, he darted across the road and beelined toward Frankie’s home. Well, her parents’ house, actually. But she was his to guide, and wherever she lived was home for both of them.
When the shimmering barrier—invisible to humans—that marked the magical protections surrounding the Ström family home finally appeared, Archibald slowed to a brisk walk. He’d been gone for a few days, ever since the last funeral, and he was eager to see Frankie again.
He’d heard her complain to her sister Becky that he was unreliable, and although that was a very catlike tendency, he wanted to be there for her as events hurtled her forward. But first, he had to figure out how to tell her his secret and convince her not to kick him out.
Archibald sat a few yards outside the magical border and contemplated the best way to reveal he was a fraud, a cheat, and a liar, without sounding like a bad guy.
He snorted. It sounded like the beginnings of a hairball being regurgitated rather than a noise of self-derision. But he couldn’t help it. Back when he’d first met Frankie and she’d been dithering about calling her parents, wondering what to tell them after her ten-year absence with no contact, he’d told her to just say it. Rip off the band-aid, to use the modern earth parlance. It’s better to do something you dread and have the outcome be terrible rather than live in fear.
It’d been good advice then, advice she’d eventually followed, and it was just as apt now.
