Mirren took another step toward her. “I’ll talk slower so you can understand, lady. Who. The. Hell. Are. You?”
The woman’s chin didn’t even reach Mirren’s sternum, so from her close vantage point she had to crane her neck to look him squarely in the eye—which she did.
“I’m Ashton, a.k.a. the dickhead,” she said in a drawl that had “smartass” written all over it. “And I am your worst fucking nightmare.”
CHAPTER 5
Cage coughed in an unsuccessful attempt to camouflage the laugh that started deep in his gut and bubbled out before he could stop it. Mirren’s expression morphed in quick succession from intimidation to disbelief to outrage. Bloody priceless.
The laughter faded fast, however, when Krys returned with the Bronco, backing it up to the edge of the job site. It was a sobering reminder of why they were standing there, and what—or who—lay under that blue tarp. Cage was surprised at his own reaction. He hadn’t known Rob well, but he’d been a genuinely good man. The people of Penton were good people, whether human or vampire. None of them deserved this.
If Cage could find the saboteur, he’d kill him. If it turned out to be his old “friend” Fen Patrick, he’d kill him slowly. While Fen had given him no cause to be suspicious, the man had been a very good operative as a human soldier of fortune. Good enough for Cage to have shared his own identity with Fen all those years ago instead of killing him, so he could keep him as a partner. And good enough for Cage to not quite trust him now.
Rob was a serious loss. Cage had met a lot of battle veterans but never one more able to fit in with anyone—vampire or human—so he couldn’t imagine Rob being the target. Besides, everybody in town had worked on the site at one time or another, so no one could’ve known he’d be there, standing at that place, at that time.
The tableau at the construction site remained static during the somber business of death. Krys and Aidan wrapped Rob’s body in a heavy utility blanket from the back of Mirren’s Bronco, and Aidan gently carried him to the truck and placed his body in the back. They’d likely be taking him to the Penton Clinic, where the town’s minuscule morgue thankfully lay in the half of the building that still had electricity.
The newcomer, Ashton—was that a first or last name?—had remained in her face-off with Mirren, although she’d taken a couple of steps back and kept her mouth shut while they moved Rob’s body. Cage was pretty sure she hadn’t moved away from Mirren out of fear. More likely, she wanted the ability to glare at him without craning her neck. Her fierce expression hadn’t relaxed one iota. This little spitfire soldier was like a mini-Slayer, and watching the two together would be worthy of an expensive ringside seat.
Mirren Kincaid was six feet eight inches of muscle and bad attitude, and Cage would wager few had ever spoken to him the way the girl had. At least not and lived to tell about it.
Cage glanced at Nik, who was biting his lower lip and not doing a very good job of hiding his own amusement, despite the fact that Aidan and Krys hadn’t even reached the bottom of the hill with their solemn cargo. “Is she always like this?”
Nik gave a slow shake of the head. “Negative. Not at all.” He paused. “Sometimes she’s worse.”
This time, Cage couldn’t stop the smile that spread across his face. “This is going to be fun, as long as we stay out of the way.”
“I can fucking hear you, Reynolds.” Mirren growled at Cage over his shoulder, but kept his eyes pinned on the girl. Woman, Cage should say, although she was so diminutive next to the Scottish behemoth, it was hard not to see her as a waif. Probably accounted for her Mirren-like attitude. Short-man syndrome, so to speak.
Mirren’s hands balled into fists, and if the man had still been human, his face would have turned about six ugly shades of pissed off. Cage couldn’t see the big guy’s face, but he’d bet those gray eyes had gone from thunderstorm to snowstorm.
“The colonel has lost his fucking mind.” Mirren’s voice dropped about an octave. “What could you possibly do to help us here?”
She propped her hands on her hips, gave Mirren a slow, sultry once-over with more than a little come-hither in her expression, and lowered her voice—but not so low that Cage couldn’t hear. “I can do things to you that are beyond your wildest dreams, vampire.”
“Uh-oh,” Nik muttered under his breath. “She’s gonna blow.”
If Cage hadn’t been afraid Mirren would turn his wrath on the nearest safe target—him, in other words—he would’ve explained to Nik that Mirren was showing uncharacteristic restraint, and if anyone was going to violently break the stalemate it would be the big guy. He figured the only reason Mirren had held his temper in check so far was that he’d gotten used to mouthy women. His mate, Glory, was a talker. She also wasn’t the least bit intimidated by her big vampire and, in fact, had him pretty well tamed. Cage would not be sharing that opinion with the Slayer, however.