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Authors: MaryJanice Davidson
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powerfully built as Sinclair, and easily as tall. And I
hadn't been laid in—
Never mind. Focus, Betsy! "Get your foot off my tits right now." Nobody puts his foot on
my tits. It's a good rule to live by.
"After we talk."
"Oh, dude. You are so picking the wrong week to fuck with me."
"Produce my Pack member at once," W.R.A. demanded.
Create PDF files without this message by purchasing novaPDF printer ( http://www.novapdf.com ) In response, I grabbed his ankle and twisted his foot all the way around. A hundred eighty
degrees! Or would that be three sixty? Either way, he howled—an actual howl, like a
dog!—and fell backward, losing his balance as his pulverized ankle collapsed under his
weight. I flipped to my feet (well, more like staggered, but the important thing is, I was
standing), momentarily triumphant.
I say momentarily because this did not make the other ones—four? five?—happy at all. I'm
guessing this, because they all jumped on me at once. Unlike what happens in a karate
movie, these guys didn't take turns. Nope, it was dog-pile time, with me on the bottom.
(Did that make me the dog? Oh, never mind.)
I jerked my face to the side, just as a fist slammed through the floorboards where my head
had been. "Wait. Wait! " I screamed.
Three fists (from two different people!) paused in midair, as I pulled my legs up, yanked
off my saddle shoes (vintage, 1956, eBay, $296.26), and threw them into a corner.
"Okay," I said. "Go."
I blocked (barely) another fist, catching it on my crossed forearms a la Uma Thurman in
Kill Bill (either one). I had zero martial arts training, but by God, I'd remember anything
Uma did.
Fighting these guys was like dodging bullets: I could do it, but I sure as shit had to pay
attention. They were List. They were unbelievably fast. Old vampire fast. And their smell.
Their iron-rich smell. It was tough Work, fighting them off and trying not to bite them at
the same time.
Create PDF files without this message by purchasing novaPDF printer ( http://www.novapdf.com ) I clawed my way back to the top of the pile through sheer force of will and, oh yeah,
almost forgot, super human strength and reflexes. Not that these guys were too shabby in
the area of paranormal abilities, either. Bums.
I managed to duck a few more punches and deal a few of my own, took a bite—a bite!—
to the shoulder from one of them, and responded with a knee in the groin and a fist in the
belly, so deep I thought I touched the guy's spine.
I took another punch to the nose (ow!) from a tank-top wearing brunette (the buzz cut
was not for everyone, but it looked fabulous on her) and retaliated by stomping on the
gal's ankle, smirking at the crunch, and the shriek.
I shouldn't have been smiling, I should have been pissed. Okay, I was pissed. But at least I
was doing something instead of waiting for the phone to ring. If I couldn't squabble with
Sinclair or bitch to Jessica, a knock-down, drag-out fight in my foyer was the next best
thing.
Wedding Ring Asshole was coming for me again. and I watched in amazement as he
limped, limped less, and, by the time he reached me, wasn't limping at all. I was so busy
gaping I nearly forgot to duck as that ham-sized fist looped toward my head again.
Nearly. Instead I sidestepped the punch and shoved the guy so hard into the wall that the
plaster (or whatever old walls are made out of) cracked all the way up to the ceiling.
Note to self: do not mention all the household repairs to Jessica until she is back on her
feet.
The effect was so much fun I grabbed him by the hair and threw him into the wall again.
Wheee!
Create PDF files without this message by purchasing novaPDF printer ( http://www.novapdf.com )
"Don't hurt my daddy!" someone shrieked, and I was horrified to see a girl of about six
standing to the side, white faced. How had I missed her? Besides the fact that the adults
had all converged on me at once, like IRS
hadn't been laid in—
Never mind. Focus, Betsy! "Get your foot off my tits right now." Nobody puts his foot on
my tits. It's a good rule to live by.
"After we talk."
"Oh, dude. You are so picking the wrong week to fuck with me."
"Produce my Pack member at once," W.R.A. demanded.
Create PDF files without this message by purchasing novaPDF printer ( http://www.novapdf.com ) In response, I grabbed his ankle and twisted his foot all the way around. A hundred eighty
degrees! Or would that be three sixty? Either way, he howled—an actual howl, like a
dog!—and fell backward, losing his balance as his pulverized ankle collapsed under his
weight. I flipped to my feet (well, more like staggered, but the important thing is, I was
standing), momentarily triumphant.
I say momentarily because this did not make the other ones—four? five?—happy at all. I'm
guessing this, because they all jumped on me at once. Unlike what happens in a karate
movie, these guys didn't take turns. Nope, it was dog-pile time, with me on the bottom.
(Did that make me the dog? Oh, never mind.)
I jerked my face to the side, just as a fist slammed through the floorboards where my head
had been. "Wait. Wait! " I screamed.
Three fists (from two different people!) paused in midair, as I pulled my legs up, yanked
off my saddle shoes (vintage, 1956, eBay, $296.26), and threw them into a corner.
"Okay," I said. "Go."
I blocked (barely) another fist, catching it on my crossed forearms a la Uma Thurman in
Kill Bill (either one). I had zero martial arts training, but by God, I'd remember anything
Uma did.
Fighting these guys was like dodging bullets: I could do it, but I sure as shit had to pay
attention. They were List. They were unbelievably fast. Old vampire fast. And their smell.
Their iron-rich smell. It was tough Work, fighting them off and trying not to bite them at
the same time.
Create PDF files without this message by purchasing novaPDF printer ( http://www.novapdf.com ) I clawed my way back to the top of the pile through sheer force of will and, oh yeah,
almost forgot, super human strength and reflexes. Not that these guys were too shabby in
the area of paranormal abilities, either. Bums.
I managed to duck a few more punches and deal a few of my own, took a bite—a bite!—
to the shoulder from one of them, and responded with a knee in the groin and a fist in the
belly, so deep I thought I touched the guy's spine.
I took another punch to the nose (ow!) from a tank-top wearing brunette (the buzz cut
was not for everyone, but it looked fabulous on her) and retaliated by stomping on the
gal's ankle, smirking at the crunch, and the shriek.
I shouldn't have been smiling, I should have been pissed. Okay, I was pissed. But at least I
was doing something instead of waiting for the phone to ring. If I couldn't squabble with
Sinclair or bitch to Jessica, a knock-down, drag-out fight in my foyer was the next best
thing.
Wedding Ring Asshole was coming for me again. and I watched in amazement as he
limped, limped less, and, by the time he reached me, wasn't limping at all. I was so busy
gaping I nearly forgot to duck as that ham-sized fist looped toward my head again.
Nearly. Instead I sidestepped the punch and shoved the guy so hard into the wall that the
plaster (or whatever old walls are made out of) cracked all the way up to the ceiling.
Note to self: do not mention all the household repairs to Jessica until she is back on her
feet.
The effect was so much fun I grabbed him by the hair and threw him into the wall again.
Wheee!
Create PDF files without this message by purchasing novaPDF printer ( http://www.novapdf.com )
"Don't hurt my daddy!" someone shrieked, and I was horrified to see a girl of about six
standing to the side, white faced. How had I missed her? Besides the fact that the adults
had all converged on me at once, like IRS
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