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“See you downstairs.”
“Soon. Oh, and Blair? It’s nice, you and Larkin. It’s nice to see.”
“See what?”
Now Glenna let out a genuine laugh. “What, am I blind? Added to that I have the super X-ray vision of a newlywed. I’m just saying I like the way you are together. It seems like a nice fit.”
“It’s just—It’s not…I’m not looking for the big, Hollywood finish, the one where the music crescendos and the light goes all pink and pretty.”
“Why not?”
“Just not the way it is. I’ll take it a day at a time. People like me look too far down the road, they end up falling into the big hole somebody dug right in front of them.”
“If they don’t look far enough or hard enough, they don’t see what they were really looking for.”
“Right now, I’ll settle for avoiding the hole.”
She headed out. No way to explain, she thought, not to a woman still floating on the wings of new love, that there were some people who just weren’t built for it. Some people didn’t have that strolling hand-in-hand with the man of their dreams into the sunset in their destiny.
When she strolled into the sunset, she went alone, she went armed and she went looking for death.
Not exactly the stuff of romance and hopeful futures.
She’d tried it once, and it had been a disaster that had blown up in her face. Larkin was no Jeremy, that was for damn certain. Larkin was tougher, and stronger, and sweeter for that matter.
But that didn’t change the basics. She had her duty—the mission—and he had his world. Those weren’t the elements for a long-term connection.
Her particular branch of the old McKenna family tree would die out with her. She’d made up her mind to that when she’d scraped herself up after Jeremy.
She started to swing toward the stairs, but the music stopped her. Cocking her head, she strained to hear, to recognize. Was that Usher?
Jeez, was Larkin up in the training room fooling around with her MP3? She’d have to kill him.
She jogged up the stairs. It wasn’t that she couldn’t appreciate the fact he enjoyed her music. But she’d spent a lot of time downloading and setting up that player. He didn’t even know how the damn thing worked.
“Listen, cowboy, I don’t want you—”
The room was empty, the terrace doors firmly shut. And music poured through the air.
“Okay, weird.” She set her hand on the stake she always carried in her b
elt, and sidestepped slowly toward the weapons. The lights were on full; nothing could hide in shadows. But she closed her hand over the handle of a scythe.
The music shut off; a switch flicked.
Lora stepped through the wall of mirrors.
“Hello, cherie.”
“Nice trick.”
“One of my favorites.” Turning a circle, she seemed to study the room. She wore heeled boots, snug black pants with a fitted jacket that showed a flirty bit of frothy lace between the deep plunge of lapels.
“So, this is where you spar and sweat, and prepare to die.”
“This is where we train to kick your ass.”
“So tough, so formidable.” She floated around the room with the spiked heels of those boots gliding just above the floor.
