Hit List by Laurell K. Hamilton Page B

men?”
    “You’re jealous of something. If it’s not the men, then what the fuck is it?”
    “Are you calling me a homosexual?”
    Edward touched my shoulder, more firmly this time, and moved me back so he could step between us. He was probably one of the few people in the world that I would have let move me back.
    “Let’s all calm down.” He had found Ted’s good-ol’-boy voice again. It was a voice to make you agree to anything, or at least not mind disagreeing.
    We were saved by Raborn’s radio. He was called to the crime scene to deal with something. The tension in the room dropped by a ton when he left, and it wasn’t just me who felt the relief. It showed on Lorenzo and Tilford both.
    “What is his problem with you?” Lorenzo asked.
    “I have no idea,” I said, and finally let myself sit down on the edge of the bed, careful to keep the blanket between me and the sheets.
    “It feels like you have history,” Tilford said.
    “I swear to you that I’ve never met Raborn.”
    “Maybe you have a friend in common, or an enemy,” Lorenzo said.
    That made me look at him. “That’s a good idea, Lorenzo; I’ll see if I’ve ever pissed off anyone Raborn’s close to.”
    “Hey, I’m not just another pretty face,” he said, and grinned.
    It made me smile, too, which I needed. Men often make women smile or laugh when they don’t know what else to do. It’s not a bad survival skill in a relationship.
    There was more talking, but we didn’t learn anything new. I persisted with the crime scene techs until I got permission to use Edward and Tilford’s shower. Edward lent me a T-shirt and a pair of boxers with a drawstring to put on after I had the blood washed off. Yeah, it would have been more attractive with just the overly long T-shirt on, but I wasn’t going for cute, I was going for professional, and it’s just hard to be professional without pants on. It would be hours, maybe even morning, before I was allowed into my room to get my own clothes. I wanted my clothes, but honestly, I wanted my weapons more. Edward had offered me my choice of several dangerous things from his arsenal. I took a second gun with extra clips, because he didn’t have any extra clips that fit my Browning BDM. He didn’t have any holsters that fit me, or fit the waistband of the boxers, so I was left carrying the guns around the room, but I still felt better, if a little like I should be trying to juggle.
    We finally got to sleep after the hospital had confirmed that Karlton was going to be okay. Though they’d have to wait on the lycanthropy test to see if she was clean. My room was still off-limits, but I could sleep for a couple of hours while they finished processing everything if I wanted to. I probably wouldn’t have, but Edward stepped in and played mother hen.
    “I’ll need a new room,” I said.
    “You’ll be in our room,” he said.
    I raised eyebrows at that.
    “I can get another room,” Tilford said, and fought for blank face.
    “No, you as a chaperone is a good idea,” Edward said, and again his Ted voice was sliding away.
    “So you’re just going to sleep together, I mean . . .” Tilford looked embarrassed.
    “We’re not lovers,” I said.
    Tilford looked even more uncomfortable. “I didn’t say otherwise.”
    “I know the rumor mill has me screwing most of the men I’m close to, Tilford; it’s okay.”
    “I’m not sure I’m comfortable, or if regulations even allow us to sleep in here with a woman,” he said.
    “Karlton is lucky to be alive. I’m not risking Anita. She stays with me tonight. If you aren’t comfortable with that, then you do need another room,” Edward said. He didn’t even try to be Ted; it was just Edward stating facts.
    “I’ll check and see if they’ll even let us stay with a woman in the room they’re paying for,” Tilford said.
    “We can pay for our own room,” Edward said.
    Tilford checked, and sometimes mixed-sex marshals were forced to share a room