Page 45 of The Tracker's Secret
“You’ll have to show me some of your work,” Aaron enthused.
Rosalina handed me an envelope, another of our embossed cardstock. I took it and offered it to Aaron, who had a hard time glancing away from Josh.
“We took the liberty to make a reservation at one of the best restaurants in The Hill,” I said, handing over the envelope. “The details are in here, and all the expenses are taken care of. We thought you might want to spend some time getting to know each other.”
This particular place served cold and warm drinks for vampires, elixirs that contained a combination of human and animal blood, all licensed and organic.
“Great idea.” Aaron took the envelope and turned to Josh. “Tell me you’re hungry.”
Josh nodded a bit shyly.
They left after saying their goodbyes, smiling hugely and casting furtive glances toward each other. When they were gone, Rosalina and I practically squealed like we were back in grade school. It just felt so good to make people happy.
Our work here was done. Another lucky couple guaranteed to stay together for life.
Chapter 16
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THE DREADED DAY CAME, and the alarm blasted like a banshee screaming in my ear. I batted at it and sent it flying across the room where it kept going, taunting me from a safe distance. I groaned, slid out of bed and onto the floor, and crawled toward it. I poked the snooze button, collapsed on my stomach, and went back to sleep drooling on the carpet.
The banshee screamed again. My eyes sprang open and stared straight at the red numbers. 3:40 AM.
Shit, shit, shit!
I jumped to my feet, adrenaline punching me right in the chest. Without looking, I pulled some of my kickboxing workout clothes out of a drawer, stuffed my feet into my new tennis shoes, snatched my car keys, and ran out of the condo. I got in my Camaro and drove like a maniac through the empty streets, headed west.
A quarter moon hung in the sky. My skin itched at the sight of it.
Great, the mange was moon-activated.
At a red light, halfway to my destination, I took off my pajama shorts and put on the cropped yoga pants I’d snatched. Next, I stuck the sports bra over my tank and pulled the latter out by sneaking my arms out of the straps and almost getting tangled in the mess. The shirt I’d grabbed was made of lace—something to wear to a club, and not a workout, or whatever this was supposed to be—so I opted for my PJ tank. I sped toward Eric’s house the rest of the way, ignoring the red lights and praying a cop didn’t spot me.
I made it there with three minutes to spare, and ran up the stairs of his slick house, taking them two at a time. I stopped in front of the glass doors, panting. They were closed but slid open as soon as my face flashed in the security monitor.
Warily, I walked inside, feeling like a thief. It was still dark, and I didn’t belong here.
