Page 21 of Absinthe Dreams
I also knew that if my dad or any of my “uncles” back home had heard I’d called on a Voodoo Bastard, they’d have a conniption fit of thehighestorder.
Honestly, though, I didn’t know how much of that would be because I’d skipped on calling them in first.
Of course, Dad and them would have just tried to convince me tocome homeso they could handle it there, but my lifewasn’t back in the Podunk town far north at the top of the boot anymore. It was here, in the Crescent City.
I’d managed the impossible to get here, and I wouldn’t be so easily chased away.
I showered and thought about the man in the other room, who was at once a stranger, and yet also so familiar to me that it made me long for a part of my childhood. I wasn’t that small girl anymore, though. I was a grown woman with a whole alphabet soup of credentials, certifications, and degree letters behind my name – the most important of which wasMD.
Still, apparently, you could takethe lifeout of the girl, but there was no taking the girl out ofthe life. And that meant some form of street justice for Lucas Levi Belmar, serial killer at large.
I knew he fancied himself some kind of mercy killer. A real Angel of Death, but we didn’t get to make those decisions – the patients did. As long as they were in the fight, then so were we. That was how that worked.
I let the shower water run over my hair, rinsing the suds from it as I thought about things. All I could picture were those poor innocent cats along my ironwork fence out front.
God, I was glad it wasn’t my Charlie boy kitty – but still, my heart broke for mama cat and her kittens. That was just sick and cruel to the nth degree.
I sighed and finished up showering, stepping out and wrapping my hair in a towel before drying the rest of me off. My reflection was blurred by the steam fogging the mirror face, but that was alright. I didn’t need to look at myself for the time being. I dried and shrugged into my robe, which was hanging on the back of the door.
When I finished tying it off, I stepped out to find Chainsaw where I’d left him, seated on the couch, paying attention to Charlie, who was rolling like he’d found catnip in the big biker’s lap.
He wasn’t the man I’d patched in my ER anymore. That man had been heavy set, his clothes dirty from what looked like some kind of hard construction work. At least what I’d seen of it under all the blood.
This man was significantly fitter. Musclebound. I probably wouldn’t have recognized him at all had it not been for the liberal streak of white in his almost ginger beard.
He had a matching one in his short hair, which was spiked at the front some. He looked back over the couch at me and threw me some chin as a way to tell me I still had time, but also to hurry up – I was betting he was bored.
I would be, waiting around on somebody else.
I tried to get dressed quickly, but I had to dig through the back of my closet to find the appropriate attire for riding.
It felt strange but good, shrugging into my deep oxblood leather jacket. She was a bit tighter than I remembered, but still zipped. I pulled on my black riding boots and put on my boot-cut jeans, then pulled down the shiny black carapace of a beetle half-helmet from my closet shelf.
I paused in front of the floor-length mirror on the inside of my closet door and took stock. Black boots, deep denim, white ribbed tank that fit like a second skin over the biker-bitch belt I’d had since I was sixteen, that I’d also had to let out a notch since the last time I’d worn it.
I looked good, hair pulled tight back and protected by the snap sheath around it to keep it from tangling in the wind.
I swiped on a layer of lip balm and rubbed my lips together, snatching up my gold-framed aviators with brown lenses to protect my light eyes from the bright sun.
I was met with a low, appreciative whistle as I slipped out into the living room and had to laugh.
“You look every bit an Ol’ Lady,” he said, and I shook my head.
“I’m certainly not that to anyone, but I’m no free tail, either,” I warned.
“I’ll make sure the boys know you’re with me and that you’re off the menu. Don’t you worry.”
I nodded. “Appreciate it.”
“Let’s go,” he said simply, and he got up from the couch and took his mug to the sink in my kitchen, rinsing it and opening up the dishwasher as I had done for mine before taking my shower. He slid it into the mostly empty top rack next to mine and closed things back up.
I was duly impressed. If it’d been one of my father’s brothers, he would have just left it in the sink for my mom.
“Thanks,” I said softly.
“You bet,” he said.
We went out the back door, and it took some effort to keep Charlie boy in the house. I knew he wanted to do his free roaming, but that wasn’t about to happen for a while. I felt bad for him, but I wanted to keep him safe.
