She was perched on the arm of the red leather couch, totally absorbed, when the clerk opened the door a few minutes later. He stood in the doorway, gasping, a hand over his heart. Juma felt almost sorry for him.
But not quite. She stood and motioned to the decor. “I won’t have any reason to tell the police about this if you don’t call them.”
The man’s face drained. “This isn’t illegal,” he wheezed.
“With me in here it just might be. Even if it’s not illegal, when the whole world knows about it, your bookstore will be finished.”
The man sagged against the doorjamb, ashy white.
“I don’t mean you any harm,” Juma said. “I know how stupid people get about porn, but I won’t have any choice unless you let me go—with my book, because it really is mine. My father gave it to me. I’ll show you where he wrote in it.” Reluctantly, she laid Rochester’s poems on the coffee table. “I need you to lock up your dog and let me out the front door, right now.”
The man staggered over to the red leather couch.
“You’re not having a heart attack, are you?”
“No.” He dropped heavily onto the cushions. “I’ll be okay.”
Juma perched at the far end of the couch. This was so not good. If the old guy died, Grandma would find a way to use it as leverage. For the moment, Juma couldn’t see how, but that didn’t mean it wouldn’t happen. “Are you sure? Should I call a doctor? Do you want water or something?”
The man shook his head. He fumbled in his front pocket. “Keys. Go. Dog’s in the back, not a problem.”
“I can’t just leave you like this. What if you die?”
“We all die sooner or later,” the man said as if he didn’t care much one way or the other. He slumped against the arm of the couch.
“Not because of me,” Juma said, and then she figured out how to play it. “There’s a mega mess in the store, and you’re in no shape to go lifting bookcases and stuff. Not that it wasn’t your own fault, but since I have to wait for Rose and Jack anyway, why don’t I put the books back where they belong? I’m good at both genre and alphabetical order. I’ll get everything right.”
The dude stared at Juma as if she were insane. “Not necessary. I found my copy of that poetry book. I apologize. You should go.”
“Okay, how about in exchange for this book?” Juma pointed to Rochester’s poems. “Honest work for honest pay.”
“Definitely not. I may be into porn, but I don’t give obscene poetry to children.”
I’m not a child. But no adult ever agreed with that, so she grinned and said, “It was worth a try. My dad won’t give me Rochester until I’m eighteen, either, but that’s because he’s scared Grandma will find out.” She swept an arm to indicate the cool walls. “My dad has scads of vintage porn, only his brain is so blown he’d never think up anything creative to do with it. My grandma used the porn—and the drugs, of course—to have him declared an unfit parent. Which he is, but not because of the porn. It’s not his fault I snooped through his stuff and stole some.”
She stopped, waiting, hoping. The man didn’t look angry anymore, or freaked out, or in imminent danger of a heart attack. Finally, he said, “If you clean up, you can have that copy of Beowulf you were planning on stealing.”
Yes! Indignation wasn’t worth the effort, so she only said, “I didn’t steal it, though.”
“Because I was watching.” The guy pried himself up off the couch.
Juma shrugged. “There were other reasons.”
The clerk opened a box of Altoids mints, popped one in his mouth, and offered the box to Juma. “Seems like a strange book for a kid to steal. Or buy.”
“I’m a strange kid,” Juma said, bristling. She took a mint.
The man almost smiled. “None of my business, huh? While you tidy up, we’re going to have a little talk.”
“Sure.” Nothing mattered now that she was getting that fabulous book. Anyway, she didn’t have to listen. She’d had plenty of practice at that.
When Rose reached the van, Jack was already there. She dropped the shotgun and the walking stick, dashed behind the Dumpster, and vomited next to the fence. And vomited again, and retched and heaved until nothing was left.
When she emerged from behind the Dumpster, Jack was still leaning against the van. “Anything I can do?”
“No,” Rose croaked. She opened the driver’s door, reached across the seat for a tissue and a bottle of water, and came back out to clean up, while Jack watched her and said nothing.
Go away! But where could he go? He was stuck with her, and she was stuck with him. She ran water over her hands and splashed her face, and rinsed out her mouth and spat, and rinsed and spat again. She blew her nose and swallowed a few shuddering sips of water.
“Want me to drive?” Jack said.
Rose shook her head.
“It’s understandable if you’re feeling shaky.” He sounded like he actually cared. “When I first started this gig, it made me sick, too.”
Don’t, thought Rose.
“You win some, you lose some.” Jack slung open the side door and put the shotgun and the walking stick on the floor of the van. “Them’s the breaks.” He shut the door.
“Please don’t,” Rose said.
“Don’t what?” He held out his hand. “Give me the keys.”
Rose shook her head. “Don’t try to make me feel better. He’s going to kill her, isn’t he?”
“Yep, I’d say that’s a given. Next week, next year…” He shrugged. “Not our problem.”
“But it’s my fault!” Rose let out a long, keening wail, and this time those horrifying tears, which had been threatening since the moment she’d met this man, couldn’t be restrained. She dropped her face onto the hood of the van and wept.
“Hey,” Jack said after a long, long moment. “No, it’s not your fault.” She sensed him right next to her now, almost touching her, but not quite.
“She’s so young to die,” Rose gulped into the cold metal. “I screwed everything up. If I hadn’t interfered, you might have gotten her away somehow.” She raised her head and blinked blearily through the trees and the gully to the subdivision where anything might be happening to poor Linda Dell. “I lost my temper because of the dogs, and it about killed me to get it under control, but I did. Then I made everything worse by using my allure on purpose against her husband, so you had to come out and take her gun, and her husband saw you, so now he really believes she was having an affair, and—”
“Whoa.” Suddenly his arm was around her. Astonishment froze her, but he didn’t pull her close, merely squeezed her shoulder. “He already thought that. He’s been accusing her of having affairs since day one, and she wasn’t going to leave any way. I tried to persuade her, but no go.”
“Why n-not?” Rose hiccupped.
“She’s addicted to him.” He let go and walked away, soft footsteps in the cool, quiet night, and returned with the box of tissues from inside the van. “She’ll never leave him. She wants her house and her stuff.” He put on an obnoxious voice. “She wants Bingo to be nice to her.”
Rose cringed. “Don’t be so mean! Poor girl, that’s never going to happen.” She blew her nose.
“Maybe you did her a favor,” Jack said. “Maybe he’ll kill her next week instead of next year. Put her out of her misery sooner.”
“How can you say such a horrible thing?”
Jack shrugged. “Failed-rescue humor.”
Way too much like mobster humor. “We can’t just leave it like this. We have to call the cops.” She pulled out her cell phone. “He may be killing her right now!”
Jack snatched the phone away and dropped it into his shirt pocket. “Gil has already contacted the police.”
“You told Linda you wouldn’t call them.”
“I didn’t. I used the pay phone on the corner to report to Gil. What happened next was his decision, not mine.”
“That’s such a cop-out. What if there wer
e no Gil?”
“One of the neighbors may have called as well. In any case, Linda made her choice.” Jack’s voice was cold. “That it’s the wrong one is none of my business.”
He really doesn’t care, thought Rose.
“For what it’s worth, she should be okay for the moment, regardless of whether the cops can help,” Jack said. “They were all lovey-dovey when I left. I convinced Bingo you were my cheating girlfriend, trying to get Linda out of the way so you could have him.”
Okay, so maybe he does care, sort of. Rose gave a horrible little giggle.
“You did your best. It doesn’t matter any more.” Jack held out his hand. “Keys?”
“I didn’t do my best,” Rose said. “If only I’d known. If only I’d thought—”
“But you didn’t think,” Jack said. “And you definitely didn’t know. Now get over it and give me the keys so we can leave.” He blew out a long exasperated breath. “Rose, it’s not your problem anymore.”
Rose swallowed. “And you really believe it’s not yours, either?”
“She had her chance with me. She can get help someplace else, and I can get on with my life. Which would be a lot easier to do if you’d give me the keys.”
“It’s all very well for you to be so self-satisfied, but I didn’t do my best,” Rose insisted. “I screwed up royally.”
“I’m not self-satisfied, I’m resigned. And you screwed up a little, not a lot.”
Tears welled up again. I haven’t been like this for years, Rose thought, I don’t cry like this anymore. But she knew these tears wouldn’t just go away. She would have to let Jack drive.
She tried ramping up her tone to businesslike, but it came out all wobbly. “Show me your driver’s license.” When Jack frowned, she added, “My insurance doesn’t cover unlicensed drivers.”
He hesitated, and she didn’t know why, but she didn’t have the energy to get riled. “Oh, what the hell,” he said under his breath, then took out his wallet and flipped it open. “Fine, but don’t ever accuse me again of not trusting you.”
She didn’t understand that, either, but she leaned into the van to read by the dome light. “Iachimo Tallis. Iachimo?” Another horrible, hysterical giggle leaked out. “From Cymbeline?”
He nodded. “My mom had a crush on an actor who played him. Said his Iachimo made her laugh.” He tucked the wallet in his pocket. “Nothing like a weird name to encourage strength of character.”
“Tell me about it,” muttered Rose, and then wished she hadn’t. She dropped the keys into Jack’s palm and climbed in by the passenger door.
Jack adjusted the driver’s seat and started the van. He wheeled it out of the parking lot and onto the road. “Rose isn’t your real name?”
“It’s my middle name,” she admitted.
Jack glanced across at her, a grin tilting his lips. Oh, he had dimples! She’d never noticed that before. She had such a soft spot for dimples in a man, and…
Rose’s heart twisted. He was firm and capable, beautifully male and almost fun. He was even caring and kindhearted in his strange way. And he’d only been able to bring himself to touch her for…what, five seconds? Ten at most?
You got most of what you asked for, Rose.
“What’s your first name?” he asked.
“I’m not telling you. It’s totally the wrong name for me. You’ll say something mean.”
“You got your laugh,” Jack said. “Now it’s my turn.”
“Nope,” Rose replied regretfully. “I’ve got to build up my defenses again. I can’t take any more abuse tonight.” She hiccupped on a huge, gulping sob. “I can’t believe I said that! That poor, poor woman, and Juma’s in terrible trouble, too”—and you don’t want me for sex—“and here I am feeling sorry for myself. I’m such a wimp. I’m such a slime.”
Jack said nothing. Rose tried stiffening her spine. Nope. She gave up and let the tears fall.
Chapter Eight
“Huh. Looks like they’re shut,” Jack said stupidly, because he had to say something to the silently weeping woman beside him. More than anything, he wanted to take her in his arms, to kiss her and console her. But because she was a vampire that would lead to desire, and desire would lead to sex, and sex would lead to catastrophic loss of control.
Never again.
He peered into the half-lit bookstore. The bulky figure of the clerk moved around in the rear. Beside him, Rose blew her nose and carefully wiped her eyes. He was about to back the van out and cross the street to check the burger joint when Juma whipped out from behind a bookshelf and ran toward the front door of the store. Yelling something.
Rose jumped down from the van, still clutching a tissue. She reached the door of the bookstore just as Juma flung it open.
“No, Dick,” Juma hollered over her shoulder, “that’s the deal. You show my friends your little secret, and I’ll have a heart-to-heart with Rose. Otherwise, no dice.” She grabbed Rose by the arm. “Let’s leave. Now.”
I don’t think so. Jack turned off the van and joined the party. Maybe Juma’s antics would take Rose’s mind off Linda Dell.
The clerk waddled forward, panting. “Juma, it’s none of their business. I can do as I please as long as it doesn’t hurt anyone else.”
“I have as much right as you to do as I please,” Juma argued.
“No, you don’t,” Dick said. “You’re underage. You need protection from yourself.”
“I need protection from my grandmother,” Juma said. “But hey, I’m fine with leaving things as they are. Let’s go.” She noticed Rose properly. “What’s wrong? Something yucky happened, huh?”
Rose nodded mutely. Juma threw her arms around Rose, making comforting noises, and Rose hugged her back while Jack stood jealously by. He tried for a sympathetic exchange of glances with the harassed bookstore clerk, but no go. This guy had something major on his mind.
Rose extricated herself from Juma’s embrace and wiped her nose. Her voice came out barely a whisper. “It was awful. He’d beaten her black and blue, and she still wanted him.”
“Wow. That sucks chunks,” Juma said.
“She wouldn’t leave.” Rose blew her nose hard. “Even if he goes to prison for a while, eventually he’ll get out and he’ll kill her, and there’s nothing we can do about it.” She added through clenched teeth, “I’d like to kill him.”
God, she was fierce. And beautiful, and tender-hearted…
Hell and damnation! Jack wrenched his eyes away from her and settled on the camellia bushes. High on the bush nearest the door, a new and perfect blossom nodded in his direction.
“Except that he deserves a fate worse than death.” Rose blew her nose again and squared her shoulders. “Thanks for the hug, Juma. I needed that. Now, what’s going on?”
You knew she needed a proper hug, the camellia seemed to say. Your loss. Why not give her something else? Some token of your admiration and respect.
No, Jack told the camellia.
“Nothing’s going on,” Juma said blithely. “Nothing at all. Dick and I had a little misunderstanding, but we sorted it out, and I shelved some books in exchange for this.” She indicated the paperback of Beowulf sticking up out of her pocket. “Let’s go.”
“Shit,” muttered the bookstore clerk miserably. He swayed as if he was about to pass out, but recovered himself against the chain-link fence and stood his ground.
The camellia bush quivered and the perfect flower motioned to Jack again. Why not me?
No, Jack said again.
“Bye,” Juma said. “Thanks, Dick. Nice meeting you.”
“Oh, no, you don’t,” Dick said. “I agree to your terms.”
“Are you crazy?” Juma shrieked. “What if they squeal on you? You could end up in jail!”
“So could you, or far worse, with the path you’re following,” Dick said, gripping the fence. The camellia fluttered, but Jack ignored it.
“My path is my business!” said Juma. “My friends are in
a hurry to leave.”
“No, we’re not,” Jack said. The camellia quivered frantically pink. Nothing to do with you, Jack retorted to the flower. “No hurry at all.”
Juma glowered at him before turning back to Dick. “Oh, all right. I’ll talk to Rose.” Jack bent his gaze purposely on her and she quailed. “That wasn’t a lie!”
“As good as.” Jack motioned the others into the store. “You can talk to both of us, and you can do it now.”
“Oh, no,” Juma wailed. “I’ll just die!”
“Too bad.” Jack closed the door on the camellia. Juma looked imploringly at Rose.
“If you made a bargain with Dick, you’d better keep it,” Rose said.
“Fine. Just fine. But Dick has to give up his nasty secret first.” Juma grabbed Rose by the hand and hauled her past the sales counter, toward the back. “I’ll show you. Come with me.”
“Wait!” Dick scrambled after them. “Hold on there!”
“It’s too late, Dick,” Juma shot over her shoulder. “Now that I’m stuck making the big, disgusting confession, you’re stuck, too.”
“Stupid teenager,” breathed Dick, giving up the chase. “She’s going to set off the alarm again.” He wheezed toward the sales counter, but motioned Jack ahead. “Better for me to go under than for her to end up in God knows what mess. Kids are so fucked-up these days. Your girlfriend needs to tell her not to bribe any random guy with head and more.”
Holy Jesus, Jack thought, the mind boggles. He wanted antisex advice from a vamp.
No, be fair. It’d be from a courageous, kind-hearted woman who also happened to be a vamp.
A monstrous dog’s shadow leaped up the wall. Its baying stopped Rose’s breath. Her heart battered against her chest, and her fangs bucked.
“Oh, no!” Juma cried. “I forgot about the dog!”
Rose flung herself back toward the bookstore and smacked into Jack. A pair of hard, strong arms came around her and held her tight.
A Taste of Love and Evil Page 10