Fourth Grave Beneath My Feet by Darynda Jones

Author:Darynda Jones
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Romance, Mystery, Adult, Azizex666, Fantasy
ISBN: 9781250014467
Publisher: Piatkus
Published: 2012-10-30T04:00:00+00:00

12

When I want your opinion,

I’ll remove the duct tape.

—T-SHIRT

After dry-heaving in front of God and beast alike, I started toward my apartment building on the next block, then remembered I’d left Misery at Pari’s. I had to stop and lean against something every so often. My hands and knees shook. Even my elbows shook. And quite possibly my hair follicles. Bile slipped up my throat, and I swallowed it down in several quick gulps. Trying to calm myself. Trying to collect my wits and focus.

The moment his name came to mind, Angel appeared. He glanced around and then glared at me from underneath his bandanna. “How are you doing that? And why are you blue?”

I sipped on the cool air before asking, “Where is he?”

I didn’t have to clarify. Angel knew exactly whom I was talking about, and if anyone would know where Reyes was, it was him. He’d been keeping tabs on him ever since the son of public enemy number one got out of prison. I knew it and I knew why. Angel was hoping Reyes would keep his distance, would stay away from me. Not that he told me that outright, but I knew enough about Angel’s feelings toward Reyes to know exactly why he would keep tabs on someone he was so afraid of.

He kicked the rocks at his feet. “Why?” he asked, his disappointment evident.

“Because if you don’t tell me, your mother will never see another penny.”

His expression held a hint of resentment, but I couldn’t help that now. “He’s at the Paladin Lodge down the street.”

I straightened in surprise. “A hotel? I thought he was living with Elaine Oake.”

“Look, you asked. I told. I have no idea where he’s living. But right now, he’s at that hotel.”

Fair enough. “Room?”

“One thirty-one.”

“Thank you.”

I dismissed him and started for Misery.

* * *

I parked several spaces down from number 131 and hoofed it to Reyes’s room. The hotel wasn’t horrible. Especially for one that rented by the hour. I’d been to worse. On a scale of one to five, I’d give it a two-ish, but at least there were no blatant drug deals going down in the parking lot. Always a good sign.

When I got to the room, the door stood ajar just enough for a stream of evening light to slash across worn, dark carpet. I drew Margaret and held her with both hands, barrel pointed to the ground. Like in the movies. If I could actually hit something when I shot, I’d have felt safer, but at least I looked cool.

“Reyes?” I asked, peeking inside.

When I didn’t get an answer, I nudged the door open with Margaret’s barrel, an act that only sounded naughty. A ray of light revealed a boot propped on a small table by a kitchenette. I recognized Reyes’s signature style instantly. His boots were a combination of ropers and street cycle, and I coveted them horridly.

After glancing around for any other occupants, I stepped cautiously inside. He sat ensconced in shadows, so I couldn’t see his facial expression to gauge his mood.

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