Blood Trail

slept?"

    "Tuesday."

    "Ate?"

    "Uh. ..." He frowned and rubbed his free hand across his eyes.

    "Real food," Vicki prodded. "Not something out of a box, covered in powdered sugar."

    "I don't remember."

    She shook her head and moved into the kitchen. "Sandwich first, then sleep. You'd better not mind cold roast beef, 'cause that's all I've got." As she piled the meat onto bread, she grinned.
    It was almost like old times. They'd made a pact, she and Celluci, years ago when they'd first gotten involved; if they couldn't take care of themselves, they'd let the other one do it for them.

    "This job has enough ways of eating at your soul," she'd told him as he worked the knots out of her back. "It makes sense to build up a support structure."

    "You sure you just don't want someone to brag to when the job is done?" he snorted.
    Her elbow caught him in the solar plexus. She smiled sweetly as he gasped for breath. "That, too."

    And as important as someone who'd understood when it went right, was someone who understood when it went wrong. Who didn't ask a lot of stupid questions there were no answers to or give sympathy that poured salt on the wound failure had left.

    Someone who'd just make a sandwich and turn down the bed and then go away while the last set of clean sheets got wrinkled and sweaty.

    Six hours later, Celluci stumbled out into the living room and stared blearily at the television.
    "What inning?"

    "Top of the fourth."

    He collapsed into the only other chair in the room, Vicki being firmly entrenched in the recliner. "Goals scored?" he asked, scratching at the hair on his chest.

    "It's runs, asshole, as you very well know, and it's a no-run game so far."

    His stomach rumbled audibly over the sounds of the crowd cheering an easy out at first.
    "Pizza?"

    Vicki tossed him the phone. "It's my place, you're buying."

    One lone slice lay congealing in the box and the Jays had actually managed to acquire and hang on to a two-run lead when she told him she was heading for London.

    "England?"

    "No, Ontario."

    "New case?"

    "Right first time."

    "What's it about?"

    I'm looking for the person, or people, involved in shooting a family of sheep-farming werewolves with silver bullets. At least it was real work. Important work. "Uh, I can't tell you right now. Maybe later." Maybe in a million years....

    Celluci frowned. She was hiding something. He could always tell. "How are you getting there?
    Train? Bus?" Stretching out his leg, he poked her in the side with a bare foot. "Jogging?"

    Vicki snorted. "I'm not the one carrying the love-handles."

    In spite of himself, he sucked in his gut.

    Vicki grinned as he tried to pretend he hadn't done it, visibly forcing himself to relax. Pity, Vicki mused, because he's just going to get tense again. "Henry's giving me a lift down tomorrow night."

    "Henry?" Celluci kept his voice carefully neutral. She had, of course, every right to spend time with whoever she wished but there was something about Henry Fitzroy that Celluci most definitely didn't like. Casual inquiries had turned up nothing to make him change his mind -
    given that they'd turned up nothing at all. "He's involved in this case, is he?" The last of Vicki's cases Henry Fitzroy had been involved with had ended with her half dead at the feet of a grade B movie monster. Celluci had been unimpressed.

    Vicki pushed her glasses up her nose. How much to tell him. ... "He's friends with the people I'm working for."

    "Will he be staying after he drops you off?" Correctly interpreting her lowering brows, he added, "Calm down. You know and I know how much trouble a civilian can be around a case.
    I just want to be sure that you're not complicating things for yourself." He could see that she wasn't convinced of his purity of motive. Tough.

    "First of all, Celluci, try to remember that I am now a civilian." He snorted and she scowled.
    "Secondly, he's just giving me a lift and filling me in on some of the background details. He won't be interfering." He'll be helping. We'll be working together. She had no intention of letting Mike Celluci know that, not when she didn't know how she felt about it herself.
    Besides, it would involve an explanation it wasn't her place to give. And if she wanted to work with Henry Fitzroy, it was none of Celluci's damned business.

    Celluci read the last thought of her expression and almost got it right. "I was thinking about your career, not your sex life," he growled, tossing back