Fangs in Fondant by Melissa Monroe

Author:Melissa Monroe [Monroe, Melissa]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Cinnamon Cozies
Published: 2018-07-26T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eight

The lights and sirens of Jack’s squad car cut the night air like a knife.

“Are you sure this is wise?” Priscilla asked, back flattened to the seat, clutching at her door handle with white-knuckled panic as the needle on the speed gauge inched closer to 80.

“Darby and Evans are guarding the roads out of town. They’ve got his plate number and vehicle description, so he’s not getting out that way. That means he’s still in town. I’m hoping the lights and sirens will flush him out.”

“What if he panics and kills someone else? He didn’t seem to have a problem hurting the chief.”

“We’ll hope it doesn’t come to that,” Jack said grimly, pressing on the gas. The car shot forward and Priscilla’s stomach lurched uneasily. She didn’t know if vampires could experience motion sickness, and didn’t want to find out this way.

“Can we please slow down?” she begged. “We’re going to hit the square soon, and you know some people don’t stop. I’d survive a crash, but I doubt you would.”

The car slowed to a more reasonable 60 miles per hour as they approached the cobblestone streets of the square. At this speed though, Jack would still tear holes in his tires if he hit a pothole. To her relief they did come to a complete stop at the intersection, and Jack paused briefly to see if there was anyone trying to breeze through the stop sign without halting. There was no one. Jack was preparing to ram his foot down on the gas pedal again when Priscilla saw it.

“Wait!” she cried. “There it is!”

“What? There what is?”

“That’s the Volvo,” she said, pointing to their right. The blue Volvo was parked in front of the courthouse and by the alternating light, she could see footprints in the snow. “He went that way.”

Jack took the right turn at an incredibly sharp angle and zoomed into a parking spot outside the courthouse.

“Stay here,” he ordered, reaching for his door handle.

“I can help you,” she insisted.

“You’re a civilian, Priscilla. And you’re completely unarmed.”

She laughed and flashed him a smile. “Unarmed, you say? I’m equipped with lethal weaponry.”

Jack looked dubious. “Still …”

“Mr. Riggs, which one of us is bulletproof?”

He blew out a breath. “Fine. But you better watch yourself, Pratt. And if you get into trouble, scream. I don’t care if you think you’re invincible, you’re taking this.”

Jack reached into his pocket and pulled out something short and metallic. “It’s a pocket knife,” he explained. “I know you can kill without it, but I’d rather not have to explain to a coroner why there are fang marks in his neck.”

She nodded and tucked the blade into the pocket of her jeans. It was a reasonable precaution, especially since she had to be in very close proximity to a person to bite. She could conceivably throw the knife and incapacitate her attacker. Her sire had taught her how, back when she’d still been human and vulnerable.

They mounted the steps together and she followed one set of tracks around one side of the building, while Jack followed another.

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