CHAPTER 3
Rob Thomas scratched his head, causing the bright late-afternoon sunlight and shadows to create the effect of a golden halo above his red hair. “What’s this say? Who taught Mirren Kincaid how to write, anyway?”
“Probably somebody who died about four centuries ago and didn’t speak any version of a language we’d recognize.” Mark Calvert took the notebook from Rob and blew out a frustrated breath. He bought and sold stocks, calculated investment risks, and monitored trending start-ups. He didn’t build military training facilities. Well, not in normal times.
Penton had blown way past normal almost a year ago.
The chicken scratches on the notebook made no sense whatsoever. How Mirren could be such a talented artist and yet write in gibberish, he didn’t know.
But Mirren Kincaid and the rest of the vampires were snoring happily away in daysleep while the Penton business manager stood in the broiling sun, trying to wrangle enough warm bodies to build the new Omega Force training center to Slayer standards.
Mark shoved the notebook back at Rob. “Damned if I know. Call Glory at the Chow House, and see if she can decipher it for us.”
Rob stuck the clipboard under his arm. “I’ll just go down there and ask her in person. Maybe you and Max can finish putting up that wall while I grab something to eat before she packs it all away for the day.”
Mark nodded. “When are Will and Randa coming home?”
“In a week if everything goes as planned. Never thought I’d say this, but I’m ready for Will to take over this project, big mouth and all.” Rob was the human brother of Penton lieutenant Randa Thomas. Randa’s mate, Will Ludlam, thrived on this type of planning-and-construction project, leaving the humans who toiled through daylight hours with neat printed instructions, diagrams, and explanations.
“So he’s definitely having the surgery?” Mark asked. Will’s left leg had been mangled in one of his father’s attacks on Penton and had healed badly. Using a little admittedly unethical enthrallment, Aidan had managed to get an Atlanta orthopedic surgeon to take a look at Will after-hours.
“If the doctor thinks he’s a good candidate,” said Rob. “All they’re doing tonight is shooting X-rays and hoping the doctor doesn’t see anything weird. You know, like fangs.
“Randa says Will is being one pain in the ass because he can’t start training with us.” Rob laughed. “Wait. Will is always a pain in the ass, so let me rephrase that: he’s being a bigger pain in the ass than usual.”
Mark smiled. “Yeah, but he’s a lot better than Mirren at this construction stuff. Not that I’ll be sharing that opinion with the big guy.”
“No shit. He won’t hear it from me, either. The man’s like a bad attitude with feet.”
Mark had expected a combat-tough Army Ranger like Rob to be a total hard-ass like his father. Colonel Rick Thomas, who headed up the Omega Force project, could out-grouch Mirren.
Rob was cool, though—a lot easier to get along with than their other Ranger-turned-Penton-resident Max Jeffries. Max constantly tried to prove himself bigger and badder than any vampire; as Mark could tell him from long experience as one of Aidan’s closest friends, he was wasting his time. The only way for a human to outfight a vampire was to cheat.
If a human wanted to live among vampires, he had to capitalize on his few advantages—like walking around in sunlight and conducting business during daylight hours.
Something Melissa would never be able to do again.
Mark tried to brush away the thought, but as usual when it came to the subject of his wife, he lost the battle as surely as if he’d been trying to fistfight a vamp.
He hadn’t given up on Melissa; he still loved her, fangs and all. But he had given up on begging for any attention she might toss his way like a stray bread crumb.
His supply of pity and empathy for her situation had expired. After all, he was the one who’d been dumped on and avoided like a walking cancer. He’d been willing to give her space and try to win her back, until he heard Cage Reynolds was returning to Penton, possibly for good.
No more Mr. Nice Mark. If she wanted that smug English sonofabitch, she could have him.
“Earth to Mark.” Rob slapped him on the arm with the clipboard.
“Sorry, what’d you say?”
“Got anything else that needs to go to the Chow House?”
Mark looked around the job site and took a quick inventory. “We could use a few more bottles of water. Max sweats it out faster than he can drink it.”
“Fuck you.” A disembodied voice rumbled from the other side of the wall, within the wooden framework of the building in progress. “Forget the water. Bring me a six-pack and one of Glory’s subs.”