Anita Blake, Vampire Hunter Collection 6-10 by Laurell K. Hamilton Page B

the suitcase on the floor, and stared at it all. My life sitting in little bags on the carpet. Seemed like there should have been more.
    Richard came up and hugged me from behind, arms wrapping around my shoulders. “I think this is where I’m supposed to ask what’s wrong, but I know the answer already. I’m sorry the bad guys invaded your house.”
    That was it exactly. The bad guys were not supposed to come home with you. It should have been against the rules. I knew it wasn’t, it had happened before, but not like this. Not where I knew I couldn’t go back. Even when this was over, I couldn’t risk Mrs. Pringle and my other neighbors again.
    I turned in his arms, and he loosened them so I could do it. I hugged him around the waist. “How did you know that was exactly what was bothering me?”
    He smiled. “I love you, Anita.”
    “That’s not an answer.”
    He kissed me on the forehead. “Yes, it is.” He kissed me gently on the lips and stepped back. “I’m going to get out of this tie. Change into your jammies if you want to.” He left, closing the door behind him.
    I opened the door and called after him. “Can I use the phone?”
    He answered from his bedroom. “Make yourself at home.”
    I took that for a yes, and went into the kitchen. The phone was on the wall. I got a card out of my fanny pack, which I’d been forced to carry like a purse. You couldn’t fasten the jacket over the fanny pack, and the open jacket would have shown off the gun.
    The card was white with a number printed in black script, nothing but the number. I dialed and got Edward’s twenty-four-hour answering service. I left a message, saying to call me ASAP, and Richard’s number.
    Richard’s answering machine sat on the counter, connected by wires to the wall-mounted phone. The message light was blinking, but it wasn’t my machine, so I didn’t check it.
    Richard came into the kitchen. His hair fell around his shoulders in tight, foaming waves, curlier from the French braid. His hair was brown, but light of almost any kind brought out golden highlights, hints of bronze. He was wearing a flannel shirt, forest green, with the sleeves rolled above his elbows, showing the fine muscles in his forearms. I’d seen the shirt before. It was high-quality flannel, soft as a blanket to touch. He had on jeans and no socks. He padded barefoot towards me.
    The phone rang. It was nearly one o’clock in the morning. Who else could it be but Edward? “I’m expecting a call,” I said.
    “Help yourself.”
    I picked it up, and it was Edward. “What happened?” he asked.
    I told him.
    “Somebody wants you dead quick.”
    “Yeah. When you said no, they went out and bought some cheap local talent.”
    “You get what you pay for,” Edward said.
    “If there’d been two of them, Edward, I wouldn’t be here.”
    “You aren’t going to like my news.”
    “How much worse could it get?” I asked.
    “I answered a message just before yours. They upped the offer to five hundred thousand dollars, if you were dead within twenty-four hours.”
    “Sweet Jesus, Edward, I’m not worth that kind of money.”
    “They knew you blew away their hitter, Anita. They knew the hit had failed.”
    “How?” I asked.
    “I don’t know yet. I’m trying to find out who’s putting up the money, but it’ll take a little time. The safeguards that keep me out of it protect the client, too.”
    I was shaking my head back and forth. “Why twenty-four hours for the hit?”
    “Something’s happening that they want you out of the way for, something big.”
    “But what?”
    “You know what it is, Anita. You may not be aware that you know, but you do. Something worth this kind of money that you could put a stop to. There can’t be that many choices.”
    “I can’t think of a single thing, Edward.”
    “Think harder,” he said. “I’ll be there as early as I can tomorrow. Watch your back. Don’t drive your car.”
    “Why not?”
    “Bombs,” he