Jane pulled to a stop just as a van marked “UERT” (undead emergency response team—vampires needed to learn how to make acronyms that spelled actual words) rolled to a silent halt beside us. Jane unbuckled her seatbelt and turned to me.
“Right; you are going to wait in the car where it’s safe, because after all this, I’m not going home to Danny to tell him that his mom survived cancer and getting turned only to be killed by vampire friendly fire.” She turned to Finn. “And you are going to stay here, too, because you walking into the line of said friendly fire would mean a lot of paperwork for me.”
And with that, Dick and Jane closed the doors, leaving me in the least comfortable car in the world. After several long, silent minutes, Finn said, “You know, when I pictured the two of us in the backseat of a car, it was a bit more romantic than this.”
I glared at him.
He tugged at his collar. “You’re right. Not appropriate. It’s just that it’s strange to be around you now without saying that sort of thing.”
“If you want to see me at all, you’re going to have to figure it out,” I told him. “I don’t want to make things awkward for you and Max. I know you two are kind of a package deal. And don’t go blaming Wade for us not being together, because you did this yourself. If you do anything to hurt him, I will not forgive you.”
“I know that I—” Finn stopped talking as we watched the UERT team’s lights sweep around in the windows like Danny’s class was inside playing flashlight tag. Silhouetted against that light, a shape emerged from a dark window one floor below and shimmied down the fire escape ladder.
“What?” I turned the door handle and stepped out of the car.
“Wait, Libby, no!” Finn grabbed for my arm, but I was already on the pavement, walking toward the building. Even my keen eyesight strained to make out the movements of the person climbing down the building.
I heard Finn behind me, quietly creeping out of the car. My nostrils flared as the familiar scent of old burnt coffee hit me with full force. My fangs dropped as I hissed quietly. The figure above dropped to the asphalt with no noise at all, a considerable feat for someone his size.
He stepped into the moonlight, and it was Bob—coffee-hogging Crybaby Bob. The same Bob who sat at those damn meetings and whined about not being understood by his family. The same Bob I’d felt sorry for, despite the coffee hogging.
And me without my rake.
“You!” He growled.
I growled back. “You.”
“Libby!” Finn called out in warning, but I’d already ducked under Bob’s swing. I’d learned from our first encounter. I dropped so far down my ass nearly smacked against the pavement, but then I sprang up, fist at the ready, and caught Bob underneath his chin. I put all of my strength into the blow, knocking Bob back off his feet and onto the ground.
“Stay back!” I yelled at Finn.
“Libby!” Finn barked.
“Just let me do this.” I grunted as my boot connected with Bob’s ribs. He caught my leg and rolled, dragging me to the ground. I landed on my back with an oof but jammed my heel into his sternum—hard. I scrambled to a sitting position, straddling his massive chest and punching him in the face.
“Stay back!” I yelled at Finn again as he prepared to spring into the fray. “Let me handle this!”
“This is very emasculating!” Finn yelled.
Bob threw up his hips, tossing me aside like a rag doll. I rolled to my hands and knees, hopping to my feet as he was already charging at me.
“Why won’t you just die?” he yelled as I sidestepped him and shoved him into the wall.
“Force of habit!” I yelled back as he shoved me. My head smacked against the bricks behind me. Ow. “Also, you tried to kill me! I take that personally!”
“I only tried to kill you because your father-in-law paid me to,” he said, swinging his massive fist at me. I ducked again but stumbled over some garbage and ended up taking a kick to the ribs.
So that was it. Les had hired someone to kill me. In the back of my mind, I had known it was a possibility, but it still hurt my feelings that our relationship had deteriorated to the point of murder for hire.
Bob backhanded me across the face. Ow. I would take time to contemplate my hurt feelings later.
“It’s never personal when I take a job. But then you went and humiliated me with that spectacle at the school, resisting, throwing me off my game, blocking my talent. Do you know how long it’s been since I lost a fight?”
“The spectacle . . . that was witnessed by no one!”
“I witnessed it!” he roared, swinging at me. I dropped under the swing but popped back up and gave him a sound uppercut to his stomach. He wheezed a bit but shoved me aside, still venting his frustrated rage. “Do you know what it’s like, knowing that I’ve been beaten by a neophyte? By some suburban soccer mom who drives a minivan?”