He lifted me; I crossed my ankles behind his hips and he pressed his erection between my legs. All that lay between us were some flimsy nylon shorts and underwear. I could feel the heat of him, the pulse. I took a breath to cry out and he drank in the sound with his mouth, as together we shuddered. Then he laid his forehead against mine, the dark drift of his hair across my cheek making my heart tumble into love as the scent of his skin was forever imprinted upon me.
"Lizzy," he'd whispered. "I—"
Then Ruthie had shouted for us and we'd fallen apart, straightened up, hurried down, whatever he'd been about to say as lost as we were soon after.
But I would remember until the day that I died how I'd felt right then when he held me, when he'd said my name in a voice so full of longing my eyes had burned, and my chest had ached. I'd believed that for the rest of my life, the only man I'd ever truly love was him.
Now, in a rented bed in a rented room in Detroit, I touched my chest, where my heart lay, where Jimmy had touched me that day merely by saying my name, and I tumbled out of myself and into the vision.
New Mexico. Different terrain from Sawyer's place on the reservation. The rock was still red, mountains still loomed, but the grass, the scrub, the cacti were slightly off. Still I recognized it instantly.
I assumed the white tents set up in an open area outside a small town were for the Gypsy traveling show. Especially since I could just make out the sign welcome to red rock on the dusty road beyond.
Though the place blazed with spotlights, it appeared deserted. From the litter here and there across the ground and the wispy scent of popcorn and cotton candy still in the air, the show had gone on.
The lights went out with a tinny thunk, one by one, and darkness crept over the desert like a thief. In the distance coyotes howled, and the hair on my arms tingled.
I inched closer, my gaze searching for movement. Where was Jimmy? Where was Summer? Hell, where was anyone?
A light came on in one of the tents. Figures moved beyond the canvas. I was drawn forward, through the air, across the earth and into the tent.
Jimmy was tied to a chair with golden chains. The Gypsies definitely knew what they were doing. Silver does nothing to a dhampir, but gold is something else. It wouldn't kill him, but it would certainly sting. Already his wrists and ankles had red, raw ridges. They'd heal, but much slower than wounds made by anything else.
I'd wondered if his vampire nature would overcome the sensitivity to gold. The metal certainly hadn't bothered the strega. But considering Jimmy's reaction to the chains, gold still remained his Kryptonite.
The tent was full of what I assumed were Gypsies. Dark skin and hair, rough hands, they wore jeans, white shirts, a few had hoops in their ears, but other than that, they could be anyone.
"You dare to come here, to touch our women?" one of the men shouted, then backhanded Jimmy across the mouth.
His lip split, blood ran down his chin, his tongue flicked out to taste, and his fangs flashed. He hissed at them—oh, he was playing this to the hilt—and his eyes blazed red at the center. He lunged, struggling against his bonds, the pressure of the golden chains against his skin causing smoke to rise.
The man who'd shouted held out his hand and one of the others slapped a gun into it.
"Bullets?" he asked.
"Gold."
The man smiled. "This will hurt," he said, and shot Jimmy in the chest.
I screamed. No one heard me. I wasn't really there. I could do nothing but watch. I'd never felt so helpless in all my life.
This was the end. I'd never see him again, never touch him, never work through all the issues I had with him. But even worse than that, he'd be removed from my arsenal of Doomsday weaponry. I'd lost DKs right and left, but losing Jimmy would be fatal for our cause.
All of this went through my head in a millisecond. The bullet plowed into Jimmy's heart; his head lolled; he died with a smile on his face.
The Gypsy's finger tightened on the trigger again and just as suddenly released before firing that second fatal shot. Something was happening. Every guy in the place stilled as sparkly dust rained down.
Summer walked in, took the gun from the man's hand and tossed it into a nearby bucket of water. There were several in the corner; I'm not sure why. Perhaps one of the Gypsies had planned to water the show animals after they ended the dhampir. All in a day's work.
"About time," I murmured. Where had she been?
Although now that I thought about it, today was still Friday. So much had happened, I figured we'd moved on to Saturday or Sunday a few days ago. Summer still should have gotten there more quickly, but maybe she'd had to buck a headwind.
With her head.
The fairy went directly to Jimmy, patted his face. smoothed back his hair in a gesture that made my stomach dance with an emotion I didn't want to examine too closely. She was there; she would save him, and I needed to be grateful.
The golden chains were locked. I expected her to demand the key, or have one of the Gypsies release him. Instead, she hit them with fairy dust, and they fell to the dirt floor with a hollow thud. I was liking that dust more and more as time went on.
Jimmy was still unconscious. His split lip had healed, but his black T-shirt was slick with blood.
Summer patted his face. "Jimmy?"
He didn't react. She slapped him, hard. "Right now, dammit!"