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A large girder dangling from a crane came out of nowhere and hit us in the head, sweeping us off the back of the car as the albino tore underneath. And almost causing us to be run over by our own support team, who were right behind. But the bag lady saw us and swerved, sending the truck flying up a dirt ramp and sailing over our heads—
And over the albino’s.
He had taken another ramp, this one going down into the ditch that was going to be the foundation of the new building someday. And abruptly realized that he had no way out except back the way he’d come, which was why he’d just spun around. In time to see the huge truck—heavy in its own right, and now also loaded down with troll—come hurtling at him off the edge.
I assume he did not see it hit down, since it landed directly on top of him and the little red car.
The crunch was . . . satisfying.
After a moment, Sten got back to his feet and lumbered to the edge of the ditch.
“Olga all right,” he observed, watching her and the rest of the trolls climb out of the ruined truck and get some distance.
“Yes,” I agreed.
“Slaver . . . could be,” he added, sounding less sure.
And then abruptly stepped back when the car went up, the explosion big enough to engulf both vehicles in a ball of fire and a column of billowing black smoke.
“Maybe not,” he conceded.
I sent the image to Magdar, along with the sounds and smells and memories of the chase.
One, he sent back.
I smiled.
Chapter Six
I woke up in a bed that smelled of butterscotch.
My favorite flavor, I thought, stretching. And rolled onto something muscle hard and skin soft that was taking up most of my bed. Like warm candy, I thought, my lips finding a nipple.
Strong hands gripped my waist.
“You aren’t up to this,” Louis-Cesare’s voice informed me.
“Neither are you, but give me a minute.”
I went back to the candy.
Until I was rolled over, which should have been pleasurable but which surprisingly . . . was not.
“Ow,” I said, my ribs protesting vocally.
“I told you.”
I opened my eyes to find a curtain of auburn hair falling on either side of my face, my favorite blue eyes looking down at me in concern, and my hands caught above my head to keep them out of trouble.
Damn, he knew I liked that.
It made for a challenge.
The blue eyes took on a rueful gleam, and the delicious chest moved back, just out of reach.
“I’m serious,” he informed me. “Doctor’s orders.”
“Dhampir,” I reminded him. “Don’t need a doctor. Unless he’s doctor luuuv.”
