A Perfect Blood

and yes, I did have fun this morning. It felt good to get out by myself.”
    He snorted, and I tore open my bag of warm scones and set it between us. “You want one?” I asked, and he eyed me in disbelief, sitting up and looking even more uncomfortable and unkempt. “Here, you look colder than me,” I added, and I slid my coffee to him. If truth be told, I was feeling kind of guilty. I had not snuck out, but I hadn’t let him know, either.
    The coffee he accepted, and I watched him take a careful sip, easing back when he decided it was good. “You are an ass, ” he said, shoulders hunched as he glared at me from over his cup. “No wonder your mother is crazy.”
    My first feeling of goodwill died, but I calmly took a bite of my scone, enjoying the tart lemon icing. “My mother isn’t crazy,” I said as I chewed. “She simply has a harder time than most reconciling her reality with everyone else’s reality. You sure you don’t want one of these? I got three.”
    He only glared, and kept glaring, his brown eyes hard. “I should throw you over my shoulder and take you home right now. I can’t believe you left without telling me.”
    “Okay,” I said, head tilting. “Let’s talk about that.”
    “Didn’t last night teach you anything?” he barked at me, and my resolve stiffened.
    “Other than you’re a bully? No, not really.”
    Wayde jabbed a short, powerful finger at me. “If you want to go out, fine, but give me ten minutes to get dressed.”
    “It was eleven in the morning!” I said, not caring that people were looking at us. “You never did get me in the car last night. You tell me you can keep me alive, but you aren’t dressed like you’re supposed to be, or paying attention like my dad is paying you to do. I had people over and you never came down. Never woke up as far as I could tell! You aren’t taking this seriously, and yes, I’ve got a problem with it.”
    “Is that what you think?” he said sharply. “That I’m lazing about? Ignorant of everything that’s going on?”
    “If the bone fits, chew it,” I said, heart pounding but voice calm. “The only reason I’m alive is because of my friends. I know I’m vulnerable, but I’m not helpless, and I don’t like being manhandled. The only reason you got me over your shoulder and down those stairs last night without a broken nose and a fractured wrist is because I didn’t want to hurt you!”
    “Is that so?”
    “Yes. That is so, you big douche bag. As far as I’m concerned, you can walk out of here and explain to my mom why you’re not cashing her checks—bud-dy.”
    I sat back, ticked. Damn it, I still hadn’t gotten any coffee. Now I was going to have to drink whatever the FIB had in their back offices.
    Frowning, Wayde looked at my bag. He knew I’d made up some new charms, knew I was prepared this time, knew that he might end up on the floor, unconscious, with no ID and in his underwear, the I.S. responding. Growling something it was probably just as well I didn’t hear, he pulled his coffee closer, almost spilling it.
    “I’m going to finish my coffee,” he muttered. “If you aren’t on the back of that bike when I walk out of here, I quit—I will quit, Rachel. I have never worked with a more annoying, self-centered—”
    “I am not self-centered,” I interrupted. “I gave you my coffee, didn’t I?”
    “—irritating flake of a woman in my entire life,” Wayde finished. “And trust me, I’ve seen some fool women while working your dad’s shows. You think I’m fixing up that belfry because I like heights? I knew Marshal was on the church’s grounds a good three minutes before you did. I also knew exactly who he was, having looked him up the night before after you mentioned having him over. The license numbers matched, and though you are right that I probably should have come down, I thought the risk less than your need to have the illusion of not being watched all the time.”
    Excuse me?
    “I am good at what I do,” he said, pointing a finger at me. “So good that it looks like I’m not. You think your dad would send some jerk-ass wannabe to protect his only daughter?”
    My face was cold. Embarrassed, I scrunched down in the seat. I needed a crowbar to get my foot out of my mouth, I’d jammed it so far down. I had no idea he had moved into the belfry for that reason, much less that he was screening people. “But you keep making newbie mistakes,” I offered lamely. “Breaking that