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No Good Deed

Page 27

by Kara Connolly


  “Do you ever have one of those days,” I said, “where it feels like it’s been a month or two?”

  “Clearly you’ve never been in the army or you wouldn’t have to ask.” Jamie’s smile slipped and he peered closer at me. “Do you have blood spatter on your face?”

  I ran my sleeve over it, although I wasn’t sure that helped. Rob held something out to me, and I took it automatically.

  It was a breath mint.

  “Oh my God, seriously, Rob? What the hell?” He just gave me a speaking look, and I popped the mint in my mouth, saying around it, “You were saying about coincidence?”

  He was still looking at me funny. Maybe because every time I looked at him I grinned. “Just running into Jamie here. He doesn’t even live in Nottingham.”

  When I turned back to Jamie, he was checking out my longbow. Also not in that way. “Is that a longbow?”

  “Yes, it is. It’s actually my favorite bow.”

  Something in my tone—maybe I’d picked up Will’s flippancy—made him smile. And yes, in that way. “This is going to sound mental, but my family has this letter from the beginning of the thirteenth century—1215, actually.”

  “Are you serious?”

  He nodded, and yes, he looked completely serious. “It’s written by an ancestor of mine. Do you…” He gestured up the street. “Do you want to have a coffee or something?”

  “I…” I stumbled, wanting so badly to say yes, but my brother had just come back from being lost and I didn’t want to waste a second with him.

  “She does,” Rob said, and I finally wrapped my head around the fact that what was new for me wasn’t new for him.

  “I really do,” I assured Jamie, real name James, a family name. “I haven’t had a coffee in ages.”

  He turned and I fell into step beside him. We were walking past the unflattering Robin Hood statue, Rob following us. “Well, the thing is, the letter has today’s date on it. And this place.”

  “Anything else?” I asked tentatively. Fragilely. Because what was old for him was new for me.

  “Nothing. No explanation, just a note that if there’s anyone left in the family, they should be here.”

  “And here you are.”

  Jamie had a face that looked good smiling. “And here I am.”

  1. Boil everything.

  2. Whatever it is, don’t ask what’s in it.

  3. If it’s the king’s deer, don’t shoot it.

  4. All deer are the king’s deer.

  5. Common Law: Don’t even try to figure this out.

  6. At least remember these guys

  How do I even begin to thank everyone who has kept me going as I wrote this book? Boy, did my life go off the rails. Luckily, I have the most marvelous people to get me back on track.

  I particularly want to thank my agent, Lucienne Diver, for her friendship and support, not to mention her mojo; Krista Marino for having faith in this book (and me) and Monica Jean for batting cleanup; all the Penguin Random House folks, especially the design team that gave me this awesome cover.

  God bless Sandy Seavers, who bugged me for a time-travel book for.ev.er.

  Thank you to my friends and colleagues and those who just put up with me at the DFW Writers’ Workshop. I’m so glad that Rosemary brought me to meet you. In special particular, A. Lee Martinez, Brooke Fossey, Shawn Scarber, and…You know what? If I start naming people, I’m going to accidentally leave someone out, so…all of you awesome people.

  I don’t know what I’d do without Jenny Martin, whose talent keeps me on my toes; Kate Cornell, whose sarcasm keeps me on my toes; Sally Hamilton, who gets me out of my cave with equal parts love and intimidation; and Cheryl Smyth, who just gets me.

  Then there are my blood relations, who would love me even if they didn’t have to—Mom, Tante Meitie, Oma, Tracy, Tavish, et al. I love you ad infinitum.

  Finally, I know people always say this, but I literally would not have been able to write this book without these people: K. Hutson, Archduchess of Awesome; Greg the Terrible, King of Supania; and Rachel Caine, Our Lady of Morganville.

  As for Peter the Greatish…thanks for not telling the parental units how you broke your arm that one time.

  Kara Connolly loves history, though she’s never time traveled. She lives and writes in Arlington, Texas. To learn more about Kara and her books, visit karaconnolly.wordpress.com, or follow @karaconnolly4 on Twitter and @readkaraconnolly on Instagram.

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