by Jamie Quaid
“He is, young grasshopper, he is. Someday, you’ll understand the many layers of good and evil.” I hugged him and kissed his forehead, and he didn’t disappear in embarrassment. “Thank you and Nancy Rose for the tree and wreaths. Is she still talking of retiring to Florida?”
“Nah, she thinks she’s going to add a greenhouse so we can grow more of our own inventory. That federal grant thing she got from the disaster emergency fund is letting her fix up the apartment, too. She wants me to move in there and live with her and think about college. I don’t need school to grow things, do I?”
“You need school if you plan to sell green things, and if you don’t plan to sell them, then you’ll need a job to pay for them, so, yeah, you need school, knucklehead. Go help Ned nab flies for his frosting feast and don’t grow up too fast, okay?”
He shot me a weird look and dashed off to play.
“I think Santa needs to get lucky,” Cora said, apropos of nothing as she watched Leo stiffly nod at a young mother babbling her problems to him. “And he deserves better than that skag.” She sauntered off, all eye-popping swaying curves that Santa noticed for a change.
I grinned, glanced around, and found Sarah and Ernesto arguing over the punch bowl. Sarah arguing was actually a good thing, especially when she was no longer carrying weapons. Score another for the Zone and pink particles.
Mrs. Bodine had been persuaded to leave her apartment to join the party. She was wearing the red satin jumpsuit I’d bought her, and talking to Paddy. Our resident scientist was still wearing faded brown corduroy, with the added touch of a new tweed jacket with leather elbow patches. He caught me looking his direction and waved me over.
Paddy wasn’t a hugger. Given what I’d learned of him over the past months, I thought he might suffer from some form of Asperger’s. But he tweaked my red nose when I hugged him. I blamed it on someone spiking the punch when my eyes teared up at this gesture of affection.
“Not everyone at Acme hates me yet?” I asked.
“You’re a burr under everyone’s saddle, Clancy, of course you irritate,” Paddy said. “But someone needs to remind us that we’re not a majority of one.”
“I love it when he talks smart like that,” Mrs. Bodine said with a sigh. “If only I were a few years younger.”
Maybe a few decades, but I politely refrained from bursting her bubble. “And are you seeing any of your family today, Mr. Vanderventer?” I asked with equal solemnity.
Paddy’s eyes lit with what I suspected might be laughter. “Has the media arrived yet? I think the press conference is scheduled for noon.”
“Press conference?—he didn’t!” I exclaimed, glancing around for symptoms of media break-out.
“He did. Dane may be a publicity slut, but at least he’s finally doing some good with his talents. He even has MacNeill eating out of his hand these days.” Paddy studied a plate of sugar cookies one of the kids waved in his direction, selecting one frosted in a particularly hideous swirl of muddy color that no one else had wanted.
Ernesto’s kitchen staff had been helping the shelter inhabitants bake all week. The results had been . . . interesting.
“He does?” I asked warily, still watching for journalists. And Dane, admittedly. “How is Senator MacNeill doing?” I politely didn’t add “since his demon possession and resultant freak-out.” I was practicing political correctness for the holidays.
“A little strange since his breakdown,” Paddy said without concern. “We’re keeping him out of the board offices, letting him work uptown. He’s the one who talked Young into sponsoring the shelter. They’ve agreed the Zone isn’t the best location for the medical center, even though the EPA gave Edgewater a clean bill of health and our infrastructure will be completely updated. Have you noticed that all our phone calls are going through now?”
That was the real reason for today’s joy and celebration—the street was no longer an environmental hazard zone, just the harbor, and our manholes no longer glowed red. Andre could keep his property.
I wanted brass bands and fireworks to release the fizzing joy. We could keep our homes! The relief was so all encompassing that I wanted to hug everyone. Alcohol wasn’t the cause for all the laughter and bright eyes around us—it was pure joy, everywhere I looked.
The swell of noise at the front door warned of Senator Vanderventer’s arrival, or his advance entourage at least. I deliberately didn’t watch but glanced toward the back instead—where Andre was working his way through the partying crowd, his dark gaze on me, making me remember that devastating kiss we’d shared. He had the power to light up my nights, if I’d let him.
Maybe it was time to let him, Saturn be damned, so to speak.
The bandage had been removed after his encounter with the meteorite. His thick hair fell over the scar—the medal for his heroics in rescuing me. For that, I allowed him to drop a possessive arm over my shoulders. He handed me a champagne glass that smelled as if it might contain something besides punch. I pinched his ribs.
“And what has the EPA decided to do about the harbor pollution?” I asked, just to prove I wasn’t paying attention to the commotion at the entrance.
“The morons can’t test for elements that don’t exist, Clancy,” Andre replied. “They’re warning fishermen away because of the chemical contamination from the buildings that fell in. We have no idea what else is in there, but we won’t be turning it into a beach anytime soon.”
“I’m glad we have the shelter for the homeless then. And I won’t miss that spooky stretch along the water in the least.” I walked away from his arm and set the glass on a festive mantel adorned with empty stockings. We’d filled them with candy last night, but that hadn’t lasted long.
I finally gave in to curiosity and turned to watch the senator make his grand entrance. Dane was looking good, less frazzled and more confident as he shook Graham Young’s hand—while he held my gaze. Damn, but I knew he had the ability to rock my world. He’d done it more than once.
I waited for him to come to me, despite Andre’s possessive arm over my shoulders.
I’d accompanied Dane to a party of D.C. bigwigs last week. I’d finally had my hair cut and styled into quirky spikes to keep it out of my face, and I’d worn my little black dress—with knee high leather boots and spiked heels. I think I made an impression. I didn’t ask what kind.
Dane’s smooth chestnut hair and politician’s smile still grated my soul, but Max’s naughtiness wrinkled the corners of the senator’s eyes as he shook Paddy’s hand and was introduced to Mrs. Bodine.
The senator lifted a grimy toddler in an elf cap to his shoulder and accepted a taste of a dirty candy cane. The media eagerly snapped pictures. He held the position until everyone got a good shot, then offered the kid a quarter and sent her back to her mother.
Andre rested his arm on the mantel next to me and watched the performance with his usual cynical sneer. “Still not liking your boyfriend, Clancy.”
“He’s not my boyfriend, Legrande. I’m swearing off boyfriends for the next year. I’m thinking of joining Agatha’s coven.”
I thought he might burst a gut holding in his laughter.
Dane marched over and held his hand out to Andre. The two shook with the same dishonest smarminess that got under my skin—except I knew both of them were good men in their own wicked ways, probably better than me.
They sauntered off to make the announcement of the grant for federal rehabilitation of the Zone and its environs, backed with a matching grant from Gloria’s trust fund.
The banshee didn’t shriek as they did it.
***
For New Year’s Eve, Andre and I traveled across the harbor to Fell’s Point to meet Anita Beaumonde—the Fat Chick in Canada. She was even prettier than her photo on her blog. She wore her gorgeous Viking red hair in an elaborate style decorated with gold sparkly ribbons and a slinky gown that revealed cleavage far better than anything I’d ever manage. The wheelchair didn’t seem to hamper her
much. Andre swung her chair around the dance floor and made everyone stand back and watch. Including me.
We exchanged cards and phone numbers and promised to stay in touch—all within the safety of the noisy bar where security could pass judgment on the drunks. I wasn’t damning anyone tonight.
At the stroke of midnight, we blew horns and threw confetti and exchanged kisses like normal people. I was probably happier than I’d ever been in my life.
Later, when Anita had returned to her hotel, and Andre and I staggered toward the rooms we’d taken for the night, we stopped and exchanged a few more hormone-inducing New Year’s Eve kisses. He was still my client. I still wasn’t going to bed with him. But we were drunk and heading for a hotel. Anything could happen.
When we spun back to earth again, the dark warehouse in front of us was glowing neon blue, and I laughed with true joy. Blue lives on.
Copyright & Credits
Giving Him Hell
Saturn’s Daughter, Book 3
Jamie Quaid
Copyright © 2014 Patricia Rice
Published by Rice Enterprises, Dana Point, CA, an affiliate of Book View Café Publishing Cooperative
Book View Café September 30, 2014
ISBN 978-1-61138-419-2 ebook
ISBN 978-1-61138-420-8 print
First published: September 30, 2014
Cover illustration © 2014 by Kim Killion
Production Team:
Project Coördinator: Patricia Rice
Cover Design: Killion Group
Copy Editor: Mindy Klasky
Proofreader: Phyllis Irene Radford
Formatter: Vonda N. McIntyre
All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book, or portion thereof, in any form.
This is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real locales are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Digital edition: 20140909vnm
www.bookviewcafe.com
Book View Café Publishing Cooperative
P.O. Box 1624, Cedar Crest, NM 87008-1624
Praise for Jamie Quaid’s Saturn’s Daughter:
Boyfriend From Hell:
“Unlike many down-on-their-luck heroes who never seem to suffer, Quaid’s characters are genuinely desperate, lending a real sense of danger and urgency. Without a vampire, werewolf, or fallen angel to be seen, this strong debut is a pleasantly fresh take [on the genre].” —Publishers Weekly
“Quaid jumps into the urban fantasy genre with a bang. . . . She quickly establishes a unique cast of characters, full of flaws and mystery. There is plenty of humor, wild action, and vigilante justice in this truly excellent beginning of the Saturn’s Daughter series.” —RT Book Reviews
Damn Him to Hell:
“Quaid has hit on a winning formula!” — Jill Smith, RT Reviews 4½ stars
“Quaid puts a new and satisfying spin on the paranormal formula…Acme is not only a bastion of mad science but also the Zone’s primary employer, making it a more complex villain than readers might expect” — Publishers Weekly
About the Author
With several million books in print and New York Times and USA Today’s lists under her belt, former CPA Patricia Rice is one of romance’s hottest authors. Her emotionally-charged romances have won numerous awards and been honored as RITA® finalists in the historical, regency and contemporary categories. She is thrilled to be expanding into mystery and urban fantasy.
For further information, visit Patricia’s network:
www.patriciarice.com
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Reviews left with on-line booksellers such as Amazon and B&N will encourage advertising promoters to discount this and related books in the future!
Other Titles by Patricia Rice
Mystic Isle: Mystic Isle Prequel
Mystic Guardian: Mystic Isle Book 1
Mystic Rider: Mystic Isle Book 2
Mystic Guardian: Mystic Isle Book 3
Evil Genius
Undercover Genius
The Genuine Article: Regency Nobles prequel
The Irish Duchess: Regency Nobles
The English Heiress: Regency Nobles
The Marquess: Regency Nobles
Notorious Atherton
California Girl
Moonlight and Memories
Shelter from the Storm
All a Woman Wants
Devil’s Lady
Dash of Enchantment
Trouble with Air and Magic
Wayward Angel
Garden of Dreams
Volcano
Blue Clouds
Texas Lily
Denim and Lace
Sweet Home Carolina
Nobody’s Angel
About Book View Café
Book View Café is a professional authors’ publishing cooperative offering DRM-free ebooks in multiple formats to readers around the world. With authors in a variety of genres including mystery, romance, fantasy, and science fiction, Book View Café has something for everyone.
Book View Café is good for readers because you can enjoy high-quality DRM-free ebooks from your favorite authors at a reasonable price.
Book View Café is good for writers because 95% of the profit goes directly to the book’s author.
Book View Café authors include New York Times and USA Today bestsellers, Nebula, Hugo, and Philip K. Dick Award winners, World Fantasy and Rita Award nominees, and winners and nominees of many other publishing awards.
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Table of Contents
Title Page
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Fourteen
Fifteen
Sixteen
Seventeen
Eighteen
Nineteen
Twenty
Twenty-one
Twenty-two
Twenty-three
Twenty-four
Twenty-five
Twenty-six
Twenty-seven
Twenty-eight
Twenty-nine
Thirty
Thirty-one
Thirty-two
Thirty-three
Copyright & Credits
Praise for Jamie Quaid’s Saturn’s Daughter:
About the Author
Other Titles by Patricia Rice
About Book View Café