Death's Rival

“Is this a job interview?”

 

 

I thought about that. I had asked Derek for some guys of my own. He said he knew someone, but if he’d given me a name I didn’t remember it. “Could be. How many knives do you carry? Silver blades? Stakes? Crosses?”

 

“In this town? Unknown territory, full of vamps? I opted for two of each. And I like steel—keeps an edge better than silver.”

 

“Silver plating on the flat of a steel blade poisons vamps, so if you didn’t get them with the first cut, they get sick, sometimes fast. I usually carry thirteen stakes and at least one cross, silver, in a lead-lined pocket. That way if a vamp surprises me, it won’t give away my location when it glows.”

 

“Hmmm.”

 

I had a feeling I had made a point, and that his cross was on his neck on a chain for all the world to see. “Silver is expensive,” he said, sounding grudging.

 

“So is dying. You work for me, I’ll supply the silver.”

 

I could practically hear him thinking. Even more grudgingly, he asked, “About this place?”

 

“Looks like I’ll be staying for a while.” I surprised myself with the words. I hadn’t intended to say them. Not ever. “You can handle the upgrade. Leo Pellissier or Katie Fonteneau can pay for it.”

 

He named a price that made me wince. “That’s for the first month, for two of us, my brother and me. Room and board is included in the price, along with a few upgrades on the house—easily secured windows, better doors, and a security system.”

 

“I don’t cook.”

 

“I do. But you buy the food.”

 

I took one hand off the weapon and reached up. Flipped on the light. Younger and I were aiming directly at each other, except his aim was a little high. Above my head. I chuckled softly. Eli frowned.

 

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER NINE

 

 

If I Lose, the Kid Eats Like a Soldier

 

Eli Younger was my height, give or take an inch, solid as an oak, fast on his feet, maybe mid-thirties, and not what I expected at all. All Derek’s men were black and former marines. The Ranger was probably at least half white, and . . . Different was too ordinary a word. He had dark gray eyes that might have a blue haze to them in direct sunlight, dark hair cut military short, skin as brown as mine, and a still-healing, jagged scar that started at his left jaw and ran down his neck to disappear into his shirt collar. It didn’t look like a knife wound. Shrapnel, maybe. No tattoos that I could see.

 

I took a beer from the fridge and passed it across to him. Eli grinned at the fridge, twisted off the top, and drank. I was pretty sure he was smiling because the inside light no longer functioned. Security. Or maybe it was the stack of steaks inside. He seemed like a man who’d like steak.

 

I prepared tea for me, boiling water, pouring dried leaves into a strainer. Setting an antique pot in the sink and filling it with hot tap water to temper the old ceramic. We studied each other as we worked—him on his beer, me on my tea. I was tired, so I chose a strong Irish breakfast blend and got out the sugar. I worked in silence. It didn’t seem to bother him, which was nice. I never knew what to say to men who needed chitchat. While the water heated, I sat and said, “Tell me about your brother.”

 

His eyes shifted for a moment, and I figured I was about to get a portion of the truth. “Alex is my height, just turned eighteen, a graduate from MIT. He’s on juvie probation, but if you hire me, you hire him. We’re a team.” I thought about that for a moment, then nodded, waiting for more. “He got caught hacking into the Pentagon.” A smile pulled at my lips and about a hundred emotions flitted across Eli’s face before he settled on wry. “Yeah. He wants to know what happened.” Eli touched his scar. “He hates secrets. I wouldn’t talk, so he tried hacking in, looking for my records. He’s good. Arguably one of the top ten hackers in the country, not that they call it hacking anymore. But he made a rookie mistake, probably because he’s worried.”

 

I raised my brows. Eli went on. “Alex says I’m different since it happened. He doesn’t like it.”

 

“So different you can’t do the job?”

 

“So different I wanted out. I was a career soldier. Then I wasn’t.”

 

Cub, Beast thought at me. It seemed like a good guess. I went with it. “Your parents are deceased.” Eli’s eyes dilated a bit in surprise. Bingo. “You nearly died, and Alex would have been alone. You quit for him, and if he knew that he’d be ticked off.” Surprise and irritation leaked from Eli’s skin. He’d not be happy to know he was giving away the good parts of his personal story by his olfactory tells, but I wasn’t sharing that. Let him think I was just that smart, or that Derek had told me all. “So, with your injury, whatever the service gives you to retire early, good contacts, and a pocketful of medals, you hope to start a business—one where you can keep an eye on your brother—with your hard-won skills and your brother’s genius IQ and computer flair.” I nodded slowly at what I was reading in the tension of his jaw. Yeah. I was betting I had it all straight. “But you have to stay in Louisiana until his probation is over, and I’m the fastest job possibility you have. I have a big house at my disposal and you think you can bunk in here for a month or two, make good cash, and look around for better things. Anything I get wrong? Anything I need to know different?”

 

“No. And?”

 

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