Page 26 of Redeemed
Brodie’s question startles me and I wonder if he somehow knows what’s going on in my head. “Which part? The long drive or the bad jokes?”
“Hardee har.”
He’s driving a good ten miles over the speed limit but I don’t bother to point it out because it’ll only make him go faster.
“Do you miss it? The Elites, I mean?”
Brodie sounds semi-serious so I give my answer about the same amount of consideration. “Not sure. Can’t say I miss the adrenaline rush of a job when we’ve been moving every day or so to keep ahead of Jacques.”
“That’s crazy.”
“It’s exhausting, is what it is. I want to find that asshole vampire and do whatever it takes to keep him from hurting Trajan.”
Brodie’s steering with two fingers at six o’clock and again I keep my mouth shut. He’ll only drive faster. He’s a djinn. He can’t help it.
“Keep him from hurting Trajan or keep him from killing you? Seems like that ought to be your priority.”
I laugh because duh. “It’s a two-birds-with-one-stone deal.”
“Interesting metaphor.”
“Hey, you used a three-syllable word!” I grin out the window, waiting for the eff-bomb.
“Fuck you, Mack.”
“Oh please. I’ve got enough dick in my life.”
He exaggerates a laugh, pounding the steering wheel. “Who knew you were such a freak.”
Laughing, I wave him off. He guides the old car onto the freeway, the big engine rumbling.
“You don’t even ask about our jobs.” Brodie sounds uncharacteristically serious. “I can’t decide if it’s because you really want to forget, or if you miss us too bad to talk about us.”
I brush a lank strand of hair out of my face, wondering if he can see my blush. “It’s not that I don’t want to hear about your cases and all. I’ve just had my hands full.”
“Yeah, with a dick in each one. I get it.”
I shake my head, stifling a flinch when he changes lanes and cuts somebody off. “You could use your turn signal.”
He changes lanes again, this time earning a honk from another driver. His smile is full of false innocence. “Say what?”
While he’s watching me, he’s bearing down on a Honda who probably shouldn’t be in the high-speed lane, but I grind my teeth rather than pointing it out to him.
“Tell me about your last case.” I spit the words out and he taps the brakes, managing to avoid rear-ending the Honda.
“You would have had fun. Spent a week in Cuba exorcising an old church and eating the best damned food you could imagine. They do incredible things with bananas.”
“Bananas? You usually lead with the pretty girls.”
“Oh yeah. The ladies were lovely, as were some of the gents.”
I side-eye him. “You changing teams?”
“Let’s just say I’m keeping my options open.”
That pretty much exhausts my conversational arsenal. I could ask him if he’s got any upcoming plans, but with the Elites, you know where you’re going when Poole sends you your flight information. That’s one of the things I don’t miss. Being on the run with David and Trajan is challenging, but at least we have some control over our time.
We ride on in silence. Brodie fiddles with the stereo, which is clearly a lot newer than the car. He finds a station playing salsa and we meander up the 405, getting to know our neighbors.
