Infected: Life After Death by Andrea Speed

Author:Andrea Speed [Speed, Andrea]
Language: eng
Format: epub, pdf

3

Condition Boy

LAKEVIEW TERRACE was just another one of those cracker-box-shaped apartment buildings/condos that had gone up all around the East Side in the last decade. The only way to tell them apart was they were painted various muted shades, and some of the exterior landscaping was different. Lakeview Terrace had a pretty good view of Patterson Park, where there was a lake, though it wasn’t visible from anywhere on this side of it. Amazing how no one had ever sued the owners for false advertisement.

To Roan’s surprise, unit twenty-four was on the ground floor, tucked in the farthest corner possible. He’d just started to knock when the door was opened. “Hello, Officer,” Fox purred, giving him a seductive smile. “Have I been a naughty boy?”

Roan simply glared at him, and Fox started laughing, unable to keep a straight face. “Well, come on in, before the neighbors think I’m mixing with the wrong crowd.”

With some reluctance, Roan took him up on the invitation.

Fox—Holden—was a solid six-footer, somewhat wide across the shoulders, although invariably lean. This was really easy to see now, since he was wearing only baggy, blue velvet pajama pants (or did they call those “lounge pants” now?), loosely tied low on his waist, and about a half-dozen various necklaces that made him jingle slightly when he moved. The necklaces were kind of interesting, mainly because Roan was certain there was a story behind every piece, from what appeared to be a pair of dog tags—obviously not his, since Holden was never in the military—to a small gold skull and crossbones and, oddly enough, a pendant that appeared to be a single silver wing (bird or angel, he couldn’t say). In spite of the necklace collection and the pants, the fact that his hair was sticking up in all directions seemed to indicate he’d just gotten up, even though it was early evening.

As if to confirm this, Holden wandered into his kitchenette, yawning. “Want some coffee?” he asked, turning to his fancy espresso maker.

“No thanks.” Holden’s living room was far more elegant than Roan would have expected. The carpet was sand-colored and fairly new, while the coffee table looked like a curved piece of chrome, and his sofa and matching loveseat were black velvet. His curtains were open, showing off a surprisingly pleasant view of an overgrown back garden extending off toward the park. “You often sleep in this late?”

He made a small noise of amusement. “No. I was just up ’til after four last night. Me and Andre and five of the girls had to show up at the Sheraton for a party. Some big company wanted us at their soiree to make the stockholders happy.” He yawned again, padding back out to the living room with a steaming coffee mug. “Go ahead and sit down. Mi casa is su casa.”

Fox wasn’t traditionally handsome, but there was something very striking about him that was hard to quantify. He had an all-American jawline, cleft chin, and blue eyes, while his

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