A Taste of Love and Evil (9 page)

When she emerged from behind the Dumpster, Jack was still leaning against the van. “Anything I can do?”

“No,” Rose croaked. She opened the driver’s door, reached across the seat for a tissue and a bottle of water, and came back out to clean up, while Jack watched her and said nothing.

Go
away!
But where could he go? He was stuck with her, and she was stuck with him. She ran water over her hands and splashed her face, and rinsed out her mouth and spat, and rinsed and spat again. She blew her nose and swallowed a few shuddering sips of water.

“Want me to drive?” Jack said.

Rose shook her head.

“It’s understandable if you’re feeling shaky.” He sounded
like he actually cared. “When I first started this gig, it made me sick, too.”

Don’t,
thought Rose.

“You win some, you lose some.” Jack slung open the side door and put the shotgun and the walking stick on the floor of the van. “Them’s the breaks.” He shut the door.

“Please don’t,” Rose said.

“Don’t what?” He held out his hand. “Give me the keys.”

Rose shook her head. “Don’t try to make me feel better. He’s going to kill her, isn’t he?”

“Yep, I’d say that’s a given. Next week, next year…” He shrugged. “Not our problem.”

“But it’s my fault!” Rose let out a long, keening wail, and this time those horrifying tears, which had been threatening since the moment she’d met this man, couldn’t be restrained. She dropped her face onto the hood of the van and wept.

“Hey,” Jack said after a long, long moment. “No, it’s not your fault.” She sensed him right next to her now, almost touching her, but not quite.

“She’s so young to die,” Rose gulped into the cold metal. “I screwed everything up. If I hadn’t interfered, you might have gotten her away somehow.” She raised her head and blinked blearily through the trees and the gully to the subdivision where anything might be happening to poor Linda Dell. “I lost my temper because of the dogs, and it about killed me to get it under control, but I
did.
Then I made everything worse by using my allure on purpose against her husband, so you had to come out and take her gun, and her husband saw you, so now he really believes she was having an affair, and—”

“Whoa.” Suddenly his arm was around her. Astonishment froze her, but he didn’t pull her close, merely squeezed her shoulder. “He already thought that. He’s been accusing her of having affairs since day one, and she wasn’t going to leave any way. I tried to persuade her, but no go.”

“Why n-not?” Rose hiccupped.

“She’s addicted to him.” He let go and walked away, soft footsteps in the cool, quiet night, and returned with the box of tissues from inside the van. “She’ll never leave him. She wants her house and her stuff.” He put on an obnoxious voice. “She wants Bingo to be nice to her.”

Rose cringed. “Don’t be so mean! Poor girl, that’s never going to happen.” She blew her nose.

“Maybe you did her a favor,” Jack said. “Maybe he’ll kill her next week instead of next year. Put her out of her misery sooner.”

“How can you say such a horrible thing?”

Jack shrugged. “Failed-rescue humor.”

Way too much like mobster humor.
“We can’t just leave it like this. We have to call the cops.” She pulled out her cell phone. “He may be killing her right now!”

Jack snatched the phone away and dropped it into his shirt pocket. “Gil has already contacted the police.”

“You told Linda you wouldn’t call them.”

“I didn’t. I used the pay phone on the corner to report to Gil. What happened next was his decision, not mine.”

“That’s such a cop-out. What if there were no Gil?”

“One of the neighbors may have called as well. In any case, Linda made her choice.” Jack’s voice was cold. “That it’s the wrong one is none of my business.”

He
really doesn’t care,
thought Rose.

“For what it’s worth, she should be okay for the moment, regardless of whether the cops can help,” Jack said. “They were all lovey-dovey when I left. I convinced Bingo you were my cheating girlfriend, trying to get Linda out of the way so you could have him.”

Okay, so maybe he does care, sort of.
Rose gave a horrible little giggle.

“You did your best. It doesn’t matter any more.” Jack held out his hand. “Keys?”

“I didn’t do my best,” Rose said. “If only I’d known. If only I’d thought—”

“But you didn’t think,” Jack said. “And you definitely didn’t know. Now get over it and give me the keys so we can leave.” He blew out a long exasperated breath. “Rose, it’s not your problem anymore.”

Rose swallowed. “And you really believe it’s not yours, either?”

“She had her chance with me. She can get help someplace else, and I can get on with my life. Which would be a lot easier to do if you’d give me the keys.”

“It’s all very well for you to be so self-satisfied, but
I
didn’t do my best,” Rose insisted. “I screwed up royally.”

“I’m not self-satisfied, I’m resigned. And you screwed up a little, not a lot.”

Tears welled up again.
I haven’t been like this for years,
Rose thought,
I don’t cry like this anymore.
But she knew these tears wouldn’t just go away. She would have to let Jack drive.

She tried ramping up her tone to businesslike, but it came out all wobbly. “Show me your driver’s license.” When Jack frowned, she added, “My insurance doesn’t cover unlicensed drivers.”

He hesitated, and she didn’t know why, but she didn’t have the energy to get riled. “Oh, what the hell,” he said under his breath, then took out his wallet and flipped it open. “Fine, but don’t ever accuse me again of not trusting you.”

She didn’t understand that, either, but she leaned into the van to read by the dome light. “Iachimo Tallis. I
achimo?”
Another horrible, hysterical giggle leaked out. “From
Cymbeline?”

He nodded. “My mom had a crush on an actor who played him. Said his Iachimo made her laugh.” He tucked the wallet in his pocket. “Nothing like a weird name to encourage strength of character.”

“Tell me about it,” muttered Rose, and then wished she hadn’t. She dropped the keys into Jack’s palm and climbed in by the passenger door.

Jack adjusted the driver’s seat and started the van. He wheeled it out of the parking lot and onto the road. “Rose isn’t your real name?”

“It’s my middle name,” she admitted.

Jack glanced across at her, a grin tilting his lips. Oh, he had dimples! She’d never noticed that before. She had such a soft spot for dimples in a man, and…

Rose’s heart twisted. He was firm and capable, beautifully male and almost fun. He was even caring and kindhearted in his strange way. And he’d only been able to bring himself to touch her for…what, five seconds? Ten at most?

You got
most
of what you asked for, Rose.

“What’s your first name?” he asked.

“I’m not telling you. It’s totally the wrong name for me. You’ll say something mean.”

“You got your laugh,” Jack said. “Now it’s my turn.”

“Nope,” Rose replied regretfully. “I’ve got to build up my defenses again. I can’t take any more abuse tonight.” She hiccupped on a huge, gulping sob. “I can’t believe I said that! That poor, poor woman, and Juma’s in terrible trouble, too”—
and you don’t want me for sex
—“and here I am feeling sorry for myself. I’m such a wimp. I’m such a slime.”

Jack said nothing. Rose tried stiffening her spine. Nope. She gave up and let the tears fall.

“Huh. Looks like they’re shut,” Jack said stupidly, because he had to say something to the silently weeping woman beside him. More than anything, he wanted to take her in his arms, to kiss her and console her. But because she was a vampire that would lead to desire, and desire would lead to sex, and sex would lead to catastrophic loss of control.

Never again.

He peered into the half-lit bookstore. The bulky figure of the clerk moved around in the rear. Beside him, Rose blew her nose and carefully wiped her eyes. He was about to back the van out and cross the street to check the burger joint when Juma whipped out from behind a bookshelf and ran toward the front door of the store. Yelling something.

Rose jumped down from the van, still clutching a tissue. She reached the door of the bookstore just as Juma flung it open.

“No, Dick,” Juma hollered over her shoulder, “that’s the deal. You show my friends your little secret, and I’ll have a heart-to-heart with Rose. Otherwise, no dice.” She grabbed Rose by the arm. “Let’s leave.
Now.”

I don’t think so.
Jack turned off the van and joined the party. Maybe Juma’s antics would take Rose’s mind off Linda Dell.

The clerk waddled forward, panting. “Juma, it’s none of their business. I can do as I please as long as it doesn’t hurt anyone else.”

“I have as much right as you to do as I please,” Juma argued.

“No, you don’t,” Dick said. “You’re underage. You need protection from yourself.”

“I need protection from my grandmother,” Juma said. “But hey, I’m fine with leaving things as they are. Let’s go.” She noticed Rose properly. “What’s wrong? Something yucky happened, huh?”

Rose nodded mutely. Juma threw her arms around Rose, making comforting noises, and Rose hugged her back while Jack stood jealously by. He tried for a sympathetic exchange of glances with the harassed bookstore clerk, but no go. This guy had something major on his mind.

Rose extricated herself from Juma’s embrace and wiped her nose. Her voice came out barely a whisper. “It was awful. He’d beaten her black and blue, and she still wanted him.”

“Wow. That sucks
chunks,”
Juma said.

“She wouldn’t leave.” Rose blew her nose hard. “Even if he goes to prison for a while, eventually he’ll get out and he’ll kill her, and there’s nothing we can do about it.” She added through clenched teeth, “I’d like to kill him.”

God, she was fierce. And beautiful, and tender-hearted…

Hell and damnation! Jack wrenched his eyes away from her and settled on the camellia bushes. High on the bush nearest the door, a new and perfect blossom nodded in his direction.

“Except that he deserves a fate worse than death.” Rose blew her nose again and squared her shoulders. “Thanks for the hug, Juma. I needed that. Now, what’s going on?”

You knew she needed a proper hug,
the camellia seemed to say.
Your loss. Why not give her something else? Some token of your admiration and respect.

No,
Jack told the camellia.

“Nothing’s going on,” Juma said blithely. “Nothing at all. Dick and I had a little misunderstanding, but we sorted it out, and I shelved some books in exchange for this.” She
indicated the paperback of
Beowulf
sticking up out of her pocket. “Let’s go.”

“Shit,” muttered the bookstore clerk miserably. He swayed as if he was about to pass out, but recovered himself against the chain-link fence and stood his ground.

The camellia bush quivered and the perfect flower motioned to Jack again.
Why not me?

No,
Jack said again.

“Bye,” Juma said. “Thanks, Dick. Nice meeting you.”

“Oh, no, you don’t,” Dick said. “I agree to your terms.”

“Are you crazy?” Juma shrieked. “What if they squeal on you? You could end up in jail!”

“So could you, or far worse, with the path you’re following,” Dick said, gripping the fence. The camellia fluttered, but Jack ignored it.

“My path is my business!” said Juma. “My friends are in a hurry to leave.”

“No, we’re not,” Jack said. The camellia quivered frantically pink.
Nothing to do with you,
Jack retorted to the flower. “No hurry at all.”

Juma glowered at him before turning back to Dick. “Oh, all right. I’ll talk to Rose.” Jack bent his gaze purposely on her and she quailed. “That wasn’t a lie!”

“As good as.” Jack motioned the others into the store. “You can talk to both of us, and you can do it now.”

“Oh,
no,”
Juma wailed. “I’ll just
die!”

“Too bad.” Jack closed the door on the camellia. Juma looked imploringly at Rose.

“If you made a bargain with Dick, you’d better keep it,” Rose said.

“Fine. Just fine. But Dick has to give up his nasty secret first.” Juma grabbed Rose by the hand and hauled her past the sales counter, toward the back. “I’ll show you. Come with me.”

“Wait!” Dick scrambled after them. “Hold on there!”

“It’s too late, Dick,” Juma shot over her shoulder. “Now that I’m stuck making the big, disgusting confession, you’re stuck, too.”

“Stupid teenager,” breathed Dick, giving up the chase. “She’s going to set off the alarm again.” He wheezed toward the sales counter, but motioned Jack ahead. “Better for me to go under than for her to end up in God knows what mess. Kids are so fucked-up these days. Your girlfriend needs to tell her not to bribe any random guy with head and more.”

Holy Jesus,
Jack thought,
the mind boggles.
He wanted antisex advice from a vamp.

No, be fair.
It’d be from a courageous, kind-hearted woman who also happened to be a vamp.

A monstrous dog’s shadow leaped up the wall. Its baying stopped Rose’s breath. Her heart battered against her chest, and her fangs bucked.

“Oh, no!” Juma cried. “I forgot about the dog!”

Rose flung herself back toward the bookstore and smacked into Jack. A pair of hard, strong arms came around her and held her tight.

“It’s just an alarm,” Jack said in her ear. “Not a real dog.” The shadow disappeared and the ghastly baying ceased. Rose slumped, trembling like a fool, against the warmth and safety that was Jack.

“The real dog’s out back,” Juma said. “He’s a bloodhound, and he’s the sweetest thing. You want to come meet him?”

Rose shook her head and pushed herself away from Jack. “I don’t get on with dogs. What did you want to show me?”

“It’s no big deal.” Juma led the way. “But now that he’s making me confess, I
will
show you, and I hope the old creep suffers.”

“Confess what?” Rose asked.

“I don’t see why I should have to tell Jack, too. I’m supposed to get advice from
you.”

Rose glanced behind her. Jack was slumped against the wall. He pushed himself upright and headed back toward the store. “Now’s your chance,” Rose said. “Jack went the other way.”

“Dick says you look like a good person to talk to about sex.”

Of course he does.
“Why were you and an old guy like Dick talking about sex?”

Rose let the girl pull her through the doorway on the left into a walk down memory lane. She’d seen most of it before, but never collaged as wallpaper. “Good Lord.” She frowned at Juma. “How did you end up back here?”

“I ran away from him,” she said. “Don’t look like that! Let me explain! Just because I’m a teenager, he thought I stole a book.”

Rose rolled her eyes. “Many retailers are suspicious of teens, but they don’t chase them around the store because of it.”

“I
thought
about stealing a book, because I need it to prepare for college, but I decided it was a bad idea. Then he accused me of stealing my very own poetry book. He didn’t believe me when I said it was mine.”

Rose gave her a look. “Go on.”

Juma huffed. “He wanted to call the cops. The front door was locked, so I ran back here.”

Rose crossed her arms. “None of this explains why you were talking to him about sex. He should have had you out of here lickety-split. What the hell went on?”

“Nothing,” Juma said, red and miserable. “Nothing went on.”

“Then why does he want you and me to have a heart-to-heart?”

“When he threatened to call the cops, I…” Juma’s voice
descended to a whisper so low that a normal woman might not have heard it, but Rose caught every word.

She shoved down a surge of rage and clamped her mouth tight shut.

“Oh,
God,”
Juma said into the silence. “I’m so embarrassed.”

When she could speak again, Rose said, “That was incredibly dumb. What if he’d taken you up on it?”

“I
know,”
Juma said. “I would have barfed all over him. He smells gross.”

Lord help us.
“What if you got pregnant or caught an STD?”

Two sets of footsteps approached in the hallway. “I’m on birth control,” Juma said sulkily.

“I’m glad you have one of your bases covered, but that’s nowhere near enough. We’ll talk about it later,” Rose said.
When I’ve gotten a grip on myself.

Jack strolled into the room. He cast a cool, amused eye around the walls, said, “Different,” and noticed the book of poems on the table.
“Obscene Poetry of the Earl of Rochester.”
His lips twitched, and the dimple peeped out. “Not your average coffee-table book.”

“Not your average living room.” Rose chuckled, and their eyes met.

Oh.

Then he turned away.

Dick appeared in the doorway, tense and gray. Rose let go of her dismay and reached into her store of kindness to smile at him. “Your walls are lovely, Dick. That Japanese print…” She motioned to an elegantly copulating couple above the couch. “My old boyfriend owned an original woodcut. He collected erotic art. But your treatment of it is so much more fun.”

Jack cleared his throat. “If you’re interested in doing this sort of work commercially, you might consider approaching the clubs in Bayou Gavotte.”

“What a great idea!” Rose said.

By the time they returned to the bookstore, Dick was ecstatic, full of plans for a portfolio, his fears of exposure dispelled.

Rose selected two craft books she didn’t need. “Do you want another book, Juma?”

Juma’s eyes grew round. “Of course! Yes,
please!”

“Allow me,” Jack cut in. “Juma and I have a mutual interest in literature, and I would be happy to buy her something.” He beckoned to Juma. “Did you see that huge annotated Shakespeare?” He headed toward the shelves with Juma right behind, and Rose leaned against the counter, relieved. She was pretty broke, but clearly Dick needed sales. Maybe Jack thought bribing Juma with books would make her talk, but she sure hoped he could afford it. Except for that one designer shirt, he didn’t show signs of being well-off. Rescuing people must cost money, and she didn’t think it was a paying job.

She made idle conversation and let Dick look his fill until her eyes fell on a book about surviving abuse on the special-order shelf, with a paper sticking out that said “Dell.”

“Do you know Linda Dell?” she asked. “Is that book for her?”

Dick tore his eyes away long enough to look at the paper. “Yeah, it’s been sitting here for two weeks. First time she’s ever bought nonfiction; usually she’s into romances. I called this morning and left another message, but she never showed up. It’s a special order that I can’t return, so I’m stuck paying for it.”

“She didn’t come because her husband beat her up,” Rose said.

Dick paled. “Jeez. She said she needed it for research. I thought she was writing a college paper.”

“I’ll pay for the book, if you’ll keep it for her.” Rose scrounged in her wallet for a business card just as Jack and
Juma showed up with a bunch of paperbacks. “Put this inside it, and let her know to call this number if she wants help.”

“Will do,” Dick said. Jack said nothing, and Juma’s nose was in one of the books.

“I believe in second chances,” Rose said.

“That’s your privilege.” Jack pulled out a credit card. “Put everything on my account.”

Rose opened her mouth to expostulate and closed it again. Jack seemed to like paying, and as Gil had said, he hated owing. “Thanks,” she said.

“My privilege.” A few minutes later they headed out the door.

“It’s been a pleasure, Dick,” Rose said. “Do me a favor?”

“Anything,” he breathed. The odor of cigarettes overlaid with mint wasn’t appealing, but the man was a sweetheart all the same.

Rose pointed to a perfect pink camellia at the top of the closest bush. “That flower,” she said. “It’s gorgeous, and it’s calling to me.”

They had barely turned onto the road when Rose let fly. She rounded on Juma and said, “Do you have
any
idea how lucky you are?”

Juma clutched
Beowulf
and quailed. “I guess, but—” “What if Dick hadn’t been such a decent guy? What if he’d taken you up on your offer and then insisted on more? Or worse, what if he’d freaked out when you saw his wallpaper and decided to make sure you couldn’t blab?” Rose tamped down on her anger, willing her fangs to stay where they belonged.

Juma pouted. “I know, but he didn’t do anything. It’s over, so forget it.” She slumped against the bench seat and muttered, “I didn’t think you’d give me the big moral lecture.
That’s more Jack’s style.” Hurriedly, she added, “But I’m really, really grateful for the books.”

Jack let out a crack of laughter. “Morals come with too much baggage. My values are purely practical, and most of them have to do with not behaving like an idiot.”

Juma sank farther into the seat, mulishly maintaining her sulk.

Rose tried to moderate her tone. “Sweetie, this isn’t about morals, it’s about common sense. Don’t you understand? If he’d been a different kind of guy, he might have killed you!”

“Don’t
you
understand?” Juma retorted. “I didn’t have any choice. He was going to call the cops.”

“Jack and I were coming right back. We would have straightened things out.”

“How could I know you were coming back? Just because you said so doesn’t mean anything, and then you gave me too much money. Two or three bucks for Coke would have made sense, but thirty bucks is guilt money. I thought you were going to just leave.”