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“And he was the lucky one. They had to pry another guy off a taxi—after it went ten blocks!”
Fred’s lips pursed. “Ten’s not so bad if you’re just riding along on the trunk or something.”
“He was jogging along behind! He’s just lucky it was a bad traffic day, and they weren’t going too fast. . . .”
I trailed off, because Fred was no longer listening. He was staring at the wall instead, with unfocused eyes. “What’s your shoe size?” he suddenly asked.
“An eight. Why?”
“No reason.”
I narrowed my eyes at him. “Tell me you’re not breaking in right now.”
“Me? I’m just sitting here.”
“And what about the others?” Fred was part of an unholy trio Mircea had gifted me a li
ttle over a week ago. At first, I’d thought he was just beefing up security after a couple of recent incidents. But lately, I’d begun to suspect that he might have had other reasons.
Selfish, selfish reasons.
“What others?” Fred asked, trying to look innocent, just as my door was flung open.
“Those others!” I said, pointing at the two guys who appeared in the doorway. Well, one guy, since I couldn’t see the other under a mountain of clothes, although I knew he’d be there. “Damn it, Fred!”
But Fred wasn’t listening to me. “Well?” he asked, turning around.
“I hate you,” the mountain snarled.
And then started to stagger in the direction of my food-strewn bed, before everybody yelled, “No!”
The mountain cursed, and the handsome brunet vamp who sauntered in after it grinned, a quick flash of teeth in an olive face. “We got out clear,” he told me. “Well, more or less.”
“How much less?”
“We ran into a little ward. Or one of us did.”
“Here. Put everything down on the chair,” Fred said, coming over with an armchair from the window.
“You put it down!” the mountain snapped.
“What’s the problem? Just drop them.”
“I can’t just drop them!”
“Why not?”
“You aren’t stuck to them, are you?” I asked apprehensively.
A blue eye managed to glare at me through a gap in a layer of chiffon. “No! I’m stuck to me!” he said. And then raised both arms, causing a terribly expensive landslide onto my carpet.
My mouth fell open, but not because of the indignity to Augustine’s work.
“Oooooh,” Fred said, looking impressed.
“Do something!” The mountain had resolved into a stressed-looking blond named Jules, who held out his hands. Or, I should say, his hand, since there was no longer any separation between the two. The fingers of one ran straight into those of the other, with no break in the smooth, pale skin. Leaving the thief stuck in handcuffs.
Made out of his own hands.
