Blood Price

ground the words out through clenched teeth. It hurt her jaw, but at least it kept her from ripping his throat out.

    "Of course, I was worried."

    "THEN WHY DIDN'T YOU SAY SO INSTEAD OF ALTERNATELY ASSAULTING
    AND ACCUSING ME!" She pushed him backward so hard she flung him off the bed and he had to scramble to get his feet under him.

    "Well?" she prodded when he'd regained his balance again.

    He pushed the heavy curl of hair off his forehead and shrugged, actually looking a little sheepish. "It . . . I . . . I don't know."

    Folding her arms over her breasts, Vicki settled carefully back against the pillows. Given that she'd have done exactly the same thing under similar circumstances she supposed she'd have to let it pass. Besides, her jaw hurt, her whole head hurt, and now she had enough adrenaline in her system to keep her awake for a week.

    "You been home yet?" she asked.

    Celluci rubbed a weary hand across his eyes. "No. Not yet."

    Settling her glasses back on the bedside table, she patted the sheet beside her.

    A little later, something occurred to her.

    "Wait a minute-watch my jaw-you gave me back your key to my apartment months ago."
    He'd thrown it at her as a matter of fact.

    "I had a copy made."

    "You told me there were no copies!"

    "Vicki, you are a lousy liar. I am a very good one. Ow, that hurt!"

    "It was supposed to."

    "No, Mom, I'm not sick. I was just up late last night working on a case." Vicki wedged the phone between her shoulder and her ear and poured herself a mug of coffee.

    On the other end of the line she heard her mother sigh deeply. "You know, Vicki, I had hoped that when you left the force I'd be able to stop worrying about you. And here it is, three in the afternoon and you're not out of bed yet."

    What the second observation had to do with the first, escaped Vicki entirely. "Mom, I'm up.

    I'm drinking coffee." She took a noisy swallow. "I'm talking to you. What more do you want?"

    "I want you to get a normal job."

    As Vicki was well aware how proud her mother had been of her two police citations, she let this pass. She knew that in time, if it hadn't happened already, the phrase "my daughter the private investigator" would begin peppering her mother's conversations much the way "my daughter the homicide investigator" had.

    "And what's more, Vicki, your voice sounds funny."

    "I walked my face into a post. I got a bit of a bump on my chin. It hurts a little when I talk."

    "Did this happen last night?"

    "Yes, Mom."

    "You know you can't see in the dark. . . ."

    It was Vicki's turn to sigh. "Mom, you're beginning to sound like Celluci." On cue, Celluci came out of the bedroom, tucking his shirt into his pants. Vicki waved him at the coffeepot, but he shook his head and stuffed his arms into his overcoat. "Hold on for a minute, Mom." She covered the receiver with one hand and looked him over critically. "If we're going to keep this up, you'd better bring a razor back over. You look like a terrorist."

    He scratched at his chin and shrugged. "I have a razor at the office."

    "And a change of clothes?"

    "They can live with yesterday's shirt for a few hours." He bent down and kissed her gently, careful not to put too much pressure on the spreading green and purple bruise. "I don't suppose you'll listen if I ask you to be careful?"

    She returned the kiss as enthusiastically as she was able to and said, "I don't suppose you'll listen if I ask you to stop being a patronizing son of a bitch?"

    He scowled. "Because I ask you to be careful?"

    "Because you assume I won't be. Because you assume I'm going to do something stupid."

    "All right." He spread his arms in surrender. "How about, don't do anything I wouldn't do?"

    She considered saying, "I'm paying a call on a vampire tonight, how do you feel about that?" but decided against it and said instead, "I thought you didn't want me to do anything stupid?"

    He smiled. "I'll call you," he told her, and left.

    "You still there, Mom?"

    "They won't let me go home until five, dear. Where else would I be? What was that all about?"

    "Mike Celluci was just leaving." She tucked the phone under her arm and with the extra long cord trailing behind her, got up to make toast.

    "So you're seeing him again?"

    The last piece of bread was a little moldy around the edges. She tossed it in the garbage and settled for a bag of no-name chocolate chip cookies. "I seem to be."

    "Well, you know what they say about spring and a young man's