Worth Dying for (A Dying for a Living Novel Book 5) by Kory M. Shrum Page A

heartbeat. Heh. It’s a useful thing to know. If I’m in a situation where I don’t want to black out, I probably shouldn’t get seriously wounded.
    “Ally?”
    It’s as if saying her name has made her magically appear. Still wearing her red, fur-lined coat, Ally bursts into the room, taking my cheeks in her hands. Her fingers are freezing and make the hair on the back of my neck rise.
    “Oh thank god. That was even quicker than I hoped.”
    She plants kisses on my ear, neck and cheek. She finishes by brushing her lips against mine. I wrap my arms around her.
    “How long was I out?” I squeeze her hard until she lets out an audible gasp. “Sorry.”
    “About ten minutes?” Ally pulls back, taking a breath. “I can’t be sure. We’ve only been here for about five minutes, and the ride was a few minutes.”
    “Where is here ?” My eyes take in the bland room. The walls are the color of oatmeal and the carpet a soft rose. It looks like a break room. There’s a mini-fridge, a navy blue leather sofa on which I’ve just taken my power nap, and an unimpressive side table with a fake plant on it.
    As my eyes return to their original corner where I first regarded Gabriel, the angel flickers and fades.
    “Jeremiah’s New York station.”
    “So another big commercial building in another big city. Original. That guy should really diversify his investments. Where’re Maisie and Winston?”
    “Upstairs. Did you say you saw Caldwell?”
    “He was there. I thought he was the one taking us.”
    “We didn’t see him,” a cold voice says from the doorway. Nikki leans against the door frame, decked out head to toe in her body armor. She looks like a comic book hero with overly defined muscles and a gun on each hip. She isn’t as bulky as the body armor makes her look, thank god. Her blond ponytail is sleek and pulled up high.
    “Why are you leaning in the doorway?” I ask. “All that armor too heavy for you?” Is it too much to hope Nikki was shot? Possibly wounded?
    Ally sighs.
    “I liked the purple streak better than this orange one,” I say, talking about a strip of dyed hair curling behind Nikki’s right ear.
    Ally’s face scrunches with anger. “Don’t be rude. They saved us back there.”
    “Stalked us, you mean. How did you know where we were?”
    “I could find you in a bar full of Jesse Sullivan lookalikes all wearing sombreros and eye patches. You’re far from subtle.”
    “I’m pretty sure what you said is racist and misrepresents Mexican culture. I’m telling Rachel.”
    Nikki’s mouth falls open.
    “Stop it.” Ally rubs the center of her forehead with two fingers. “I don’t care if she was following us. I’m glad she showed up. After you went and killed eight people, there was no escaping without her help.”
    My next insult sticks in my throat. I swallow it down before I manage to say, “Eight people?”
    “Your firebomb was reckless. Of course, reckless is what you do best,” Nikki says, one hand gripping her hip.
    The heat rises in my chest, and I can feel the static electricity crackle between my palms. God, what I wouldn’t give to set her hair on fire. If she wants orange hair, I’ll give her orange hair. Just one strand would take care of the rest, wouldn’t it?
    “Jess,” Ally says, watching my face. “Tell Nick thank you.”
    “Thanks for letting me know you’re still stalking my girlfriend, Sasquatch. I’ll have to keep a closer eye on you.” I turn to Ally and find her blushing furiously. “Get Maisie. We aren’t staying here.”
    “We can’t leave yet,” Ally says. “What happened in the alley is all over the news. They’re twisting the story.”
    I look around the little room. The small, stiff sofa where I sit. The fake tree in a corner, the mini fridge. There’s no TV to confirm what she’s saying, but I guess I don’t need one. I’m not surprised that the authorities would twist what really happened into a tale that makes us look like the bad