Cold Reign (Jane Yellowrock #11)(94)

Unknown magic skittered across my flesh and was gone.

Over the coms, Derek said, “Big Bird has flown the coop.” It wasn’t code, but if someone was listening in, they wouldn’t know what had happened. Gee DiMercy had shifted shape and flown. A black-and-white image appeared on the screen on the backseat, the view from overhead.

My earbud hissed and then I heard Eli say, “Copy. We have visual. Initiating Operation Insertion. George will drive our vehicle. Give us until I mention my mama and then the big cat can come in. That’ll mean the way is clear.”

Big cat had to mean Rick.

“Roger that,” Rick said.

The smell of Tex-Mex food grew on the air, chicken and beef, lots of spices, ears of corn roasted over an open flame, hot grease. Pepe’s taqueria appeared at the end of the block, lights from inside spilling into the rain, making the lights flow like luminous liquid. Eli pulled over and shoved the SUV into park. In a street-tough, faintly Cajun accent I had never heard before, he said, “You ready?”

“I’m always ready.” It was a silly line, but I liked it.

We both exited on the driver’s side as Bruiser slid across the seat, put his foot on the brake, and shifted into drive. “Be careful,” he said. Because vamps might have a lookout inside. Right. Eli held out his hand. I took it and we raced through the storm and under the awning, where we brushed rain off us as we looked through the storefront window.

Eli said, “It’s smaller in there than we thought. We’ll have to put on a real show to keep their attention from the door.”

“Long as they don’t call the cops,” I said. “We don’t have time for the cops.

“Call the cops? In New Orleans? How long have you been living in this city?”

He had a point. Unless there were ambulances and near death, or rich people involved, cops didn’t come to domestics or bar fights. “Okay by me,” I said, with that same evil grin.

Eli leaned and caught my jacket in one hand, pulling me back. In that surprisingly good Cajun accent he said, loudly, “You don’ cheat on me. You hear?”

“You ass!” I shouted.

Eli twitched at my cussing. Just a tiny twitch, but it was enough. Inside I thought, Score! He shoved open the door of Pepe’s and yanked me behind him. He shouted, “You trying to tell me you din be makin’ eyes at Jimmy Ray?” He walked into Pepe’s with all the machismo of a street thug. Dragging me behind him by the jacket.

“I hadda look at him,” I yelled back. “He was passing me a beer. You want I should guess where it is?” I covered my eyes, stretched out my other arm, and made a dramatic waving motion. “You’re stupid, you know that? Now lemme go or things’ll get nasty.”

“You got a mouth on you, you do.”

I yanked my clothes free, fisted my free hand, and took a long step for momentum.

To the three people inside, he said, “You see what I gotta put up with this li’l bit—”

I shoved Eli across the room, into the corner. Holding back. The breath blasted out of him. “I was careful, so I didn’t hurt you. Much,” I yelled. “I ain’t no cheater, you ass.”

This time Eli didn’t twitch. He slapped the back of my head. Not hard but it stung. And it was on, as I kicked his shins. Like a grade school child. I charged him clumsily and we spun around together. Maneuvering us toward the corner farthest from the door. We splashed though a wet spot on the floor. My feet flew and I nearly fell. I screeched, kicked over four chairs and a small table, sending them crashing. A chair tripped Eli. We both went down.

As I fell I realized we had all three employees, a man and two women, racing to us, away from the entrance. Perfect. Except that I hit the floor, landing hard on my elbow. Pain sparked through me. My left hand went numb. A wounded breath whistled out of me.

Eli roared with fake fury. “You sleeping with Jimmy Ray!”

“I’m not, but if I did, his dick would be bigger than yours. Your mama told me so!”

“You bes’ be leaving my mama outta dis!”

The helpful employees were trying to separate us and pull us to our feet. I screamed, keeping their attention on me as Rick dashed in from the storm and raced around the counter, into the kitchen. He vanished into the back.

“Lemme go!” I shouted, standing up. “You can take your silly insecurities and shove ’em where the sun don’t shine!” I elbowed my way out of the group and out the door. Into the shadows and the freezing rain. Rubbing my elbow and my scalp and muttering, “Ow-ow-ow-ow-ow,” as freezing rain blasted into my collar and down my back. My legs froze in the icy wet wind. Stupid girly clothes.

“Janie said dick,” Alex said into my earbud. “And ass.”

“Shut up,” I said, breathing hard, laughing and wheezing in pain under my breath. “Holy crap, this hurts. And it’s called Method acting.”

“It’s called foul language,” he countered. “I get pizza.”

“Whatever.”

The SUV’s lights flashed. I dashed to it and inside, into the amazing warmth of the heater and the towel Bruiser held out to me. I stripped, dried off, and wrapped up in a blanket, unfolding the new armor as my arm regained some painful sensation and movement. We listened to the angry banter between Eli and the store employees as I changed into the dry long underwear and the new armored uniform. Eli ordered a dozen tacos of various different kinds, putting down the now ex-girlfriend. It was colorful and Eli managed to sound like a total . . . well, a total dick. His ex-girlfriend had been a smart chick when she left him. A good ten minutes later Eli raced through the rain and got into the backseat.