Ghostwalker 08 - Street Game

to the floor, whirling around a little wildly, gun in his fist.
    “What the hell?” Kane demanded, wiggling free and crawling across the floor to the window.
    Jaimie dragged the blanket over her head with a groan. This was not the start to the day she had anticipated. “It’s the doorbell. It’s probably Joe.”
    “Doorbell? That’s some kind of fog horn. Are you kidding, Jaimie?” Kane and Mack exchanged one long disgusted look. The noise was louder the second time, more insistent.
    “Joe?” Mack shook his head. “Lean out the window, Kane. See if you can’t get a clear shot at him.”
    Alarmed, Jaimie sat up, pulling the blankets to her chin. “You can’t shoot him.”
    “Why not?” Kane asked.
    He looked wild enough to really do it, his hair spilling all over the place, his clothes disheveled, his eyes fierce.
    “Because I forbid it, that’s why.” Jaimie tried to be stern, but the two looked as if they might have been drinking all night, disheveled and heavy-lidded, making her want to smile. Sleeping on the couch hadn’t been as much fun as Kane thought it might be. There was some satisfaction in that since they’d taken over her house. She’d forgotten how crazy they could get, feeding off each other, until she never knew exactly how far either of them would really go.
    The doorbell let out another long blast. “That’s it.” Mack scowled fiercely. “Shoot him, Kane. I’ll take the blame and let her yell at me. It’s worth it.”
    “You got it.” Kane, looking like a panther, stalked along the bank of windows to one of the long, tall windows overlooking the street where the front door was.
    Jaimie nearly flew across the room, laughing, grabbing at Kane’s arm. “Don’t you dare. It’s ten o’clock, we overslept. It isn’t his fault.”
    Mack found the intercom. “Drop dead, buddy,” he snarled into the speaker.
    Jaimie whirled around, horrified. “Mack, I can’t believe you just did that. Get away from there.” She turned hastily back to Kane, who was unlocking the window.

    68

    “Get away from the window.” She pushed her hands through her own hair, now as disheveled as Kane’s. “You’re both completely out of control.”
    “What’s he look like?” Mack demanded. “A skinny little runt, I hope.”
    “I don’t think so,” Kane muttered, leaning halfway out the window. “He’s a big son of a bitch, Mack. Really big.”
    Jaimie tugged on his arm. “This is embarrassing me, Kane. Get your head back inside this minute.”
    “Big? How big?” Mack lifted Jaimie right out of the way, craning his neck to peer out the window, fending Jaimie off with one hand. “Hell, Kane, he’s over six foot.
    Shoot the bastard.”
    Jaimie bit her lip, laughing, pushing at both of them, trying to pull Kane’s arm down. “You’re both so insane. Get away from the window. You’re going to embarrass me. And if he sees that gun, he’s going to call the police and then what are we going to do, smart ones?”
    The doorbell boomed a deep, dramatic, and very insistent intrusion. Mack headed toward the speaker. Jaimie put on a burst of speed and beat him to it, although one of Mack’s talents was something close to teleportation so he’d obviously let her. She coughed twice, trying to control her voice, trying not to laugh.
    “Joe, sorry, my family arrived very late last night and I overslept.”
    Mack reached around her trying to get to the intercom. She pushed at the solid wall of his chest as she spoke, so she sounded out of breath.
    “You need help, Jaimie?” Joe’s voice floated out from the speaker a little distorted. Jaimie’s brain immediately sought out the reason and made a mental note to correct the problem.
    “No, she doesn’t need any help, you baboon,” Mack answered rudely, stabbing at the talk button around Jaimie.
    Fortunately, she cut off his last few words. “All right, that’s enough. If you keep playing around, he’s going to call the cops. How do you expect to explain the arsenal you brought up here? Go make yourself useful. Make coffee!” Jaimie turned back to the speaker. “Why don’t we take today off, Joe? I’ll make it up to you later.”
    “You’re sure, Jaimie?” Joe sounded suspicious.
    “Absolutely. I’ll see you tomorrow. I’m sorry, we stayed up all night talking. I’m a little tired. You understand, don’t you? I should have called you.”
    “If you’re certain.” Joe didn’t sound certain. He sounded