Grif sighed. It didn’t matter. Even were Sarge still there, Grif doubted there’d be any understanding. So he patted Joe on the shoulder, and returned to the one thing in the world that did make sense.
Glancing up from where she sat alone, beneath an old oak, Kit dropped the dandelions she’d been fashioning into a halo. “Find an old friend?”
“Don’t know if I’d call him that,” Grif said, offering her a hand up.
She took it, then linked her arm in his once she was standing, as if they’d been walking like that for years. “What were you two chatting about?”
“Life. Death.” Grif shrugged. “Small stuff like that.”
“Oh, sure.” Kit laughed, but didn’t press.
Halting suddenly, Grif shoved his hands into his pockets. “Got a question for you, Craig. How ’bout walking this world with me for a while?”
Kit lifted a hand to shield her eyes from the sun, but it couldn’t shield her smile. “Why, I think that’d suit me just fine, Mr. Shaw.”
Grif leaned over so that the brim of his fedora took the place of her shielding hand, and kissed her long and hard, until a passing matron grumpily cleared her throat. Pulling away, Kit sighed contentedly. “My mind is spinning.”
“ ’Course it is,” he said, pulling her again toward the parking lot.
“I mean my world has been upended, too.”
“Nah. Just clarified,” he said, but his mind was spinning as well. “And so has mine.”
“So we still make a pretty good team, huh?” She raised her voice as they reached her car and split. She’d left the top down in deference to the day, so caught his playful shrug.
“When we’re not swinging at each other.”
“Ah, well,” she said, climbing in. “Where’s the fun in that?”
“Always gotta be fun with you, Craig?” he asked, as they pulled from the cemetery lot.
“It certainly helps.”
And Grif just smiled as they rocketed away, because she was right. It did.
Acknowledgments
My gratitude goes out to Burlesque Beauty, Tattooed Cutie, ChaCha Velour, for educating me on the exciting and addictive world of rockabilly culture. My Facebook friend Sharon Bond answered newswoman questions, and Kristin Grammas not only told me what a decaying body smells like, she offered to take me on a ride-along to show me one in situ. Gee, thanks, Kristin. Pamela Patchet and Joy Maiorana read early versions of the manuscript, and their astute comments and suggestions ended up making me look smarter—always appreciated. Miriam Kriss was a singular force in helping shape this new series from proposal to rewrites, and Diana Gill, as ever, championed it the whole way. My heartfelt thanks to you all.
About the Author
The New York Times bestselling author of the Sign of the Zodiac series—and former showgirl—VICKI PETTERSSON was born, raised, and still lives in Sin City, where a backyard view of the Strip regularly inspires her to set down her martini and write.
www.vickipettersson.com
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Books by Vicki Pettersson
THE SIGN OF THE ZODIAC SERIES
The Scent of Shadows
The Taste of Night
The Touch of Twilight
City of Souls
Cheat the Grave
The Neon Graveyard
Credits
Cover design by Richard L. Aquan
Cover illustration by Larry Rostant
Copyright
This book is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogue are drawn from the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
THE TAKEN. Copyright © 2012 by Vicki Pettersson. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
FIRST EDITION
ISBN 978-0-06-206464-6
EPub Edition © JUNE 2012 ISBN: 9780062064110
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