Stalking the Others by Jess Haines Page B

now embedded in my palm, scowling more in anger than pain, I waited impatiently for Bo to find a spot and park the car. He’d barely come to a stop before I was out the door and moving.
    “Shia, what the hell’s gotten into you? Hold up!”
    I waited impatiently for Bo to reach my side, hooking my thumbs over the belt under my sweater and drumming my fingers against the leather. Though he didn’t often show signs of his earlier injury, his running days were long over, and when he tried anything faster than a brisk walk, he gained a limp. As he was sporting now while he hurried to catch up with me.
    The belt chose that moment to make its first snide remark of the evening. ‘Why do we need him again? He’s just going to slow us down.’
    Don’t you get started, I thought at it.
    ‘There’s nothing to start,’ it complained. ‘You’re doing boring reconnaissance crap. What do you need me for? I’d rather you had me on while you sit and watch those chick flicks of yours than do this wannabe gumshoe crap.’
    Oh, for the love of—
    “Are you okay?”
    The concern in Bo’s voice snapped me out of my murderous thoughts. Forcing a smile, I hooked my arm through his, tilting my head up to give him my best innocent look. “I’m fine. Just a little concerned to be out in the open, that’s all. Let’s get this over with.”
    ‘The sooner the better.’
    He shook his head but didn’t argue, and we made our way to street level. Gleaming towers of concrete and chrome loomed over us like giants in the dark, sharp edges and tinted glass lit by the advertisements and signs and headlights all around us. Even at this hour, the streets were packed with people, most headed to or coming from restaurants, bars, and nightclubs. This wasn’t the best part of town for nightlife in the city, but it had its charms.
    We made our way toward Chaz’s building, but I was dragging my feet, looking around. Something felt... off.
    Bo didn’t notice. He seemed cheerful enough to have me on his arm, and to go at whatever pace I chose. He didn’t argue when I paused in the middle of the sidewalk, though he did look down at me with mild surprise. The belt was practically thrumming with energy. Whatever was going on, it sensed it, too.
    ‘Were. Close. Keep scanning the street. It’s here somewhere.’
    That sent a shiver of mixed fright and anticipation through me. I didn’t have my armor or my guns. Though I was fast with the belt, I wasn’t sure if I was ready to face a Were without any weapons but the stakes. Even if they were silver, I’d have to get far closer than was safe to use them—and, as far as I knew, Bo didn’t have any weapons on him at all.
    But then I saw what the belt and I were looking for, and forgot all sense of caution.
    Blond hair in a ponytail and body encased in a pink, Juicy Couture velour tracksuit set, that boyfriend-stealing, two-faced, anorexic bimbo of a cheating whore, Kimberly, was just leaving the building Bo and I had been headed toward. If not for his sudden pained cry, bringing her attention our way, I might have had the element of surprise on my side.
    Thanks to my sudden, unthinking rage, my grip had tightened so much that I’d nearly broken the radius of his left forearm. Even after I realized he was in pain because of me, it took me a second to remember I was supposed to let go.
    The noise he made drew the attention of Kimberly, along with that of most of the other people on the street around us. Her brown eyes, wide with alarm, met mine for a split second—narrowed with recognition and anger—and then she was running. Away from me.
    I didn’t wait to see if Bo was okay. There was no time or room for second thoughts. With the help of the belt, I was after her, and wouldn’t stop until my hands were wet with her blood.
    Snarling, I dodged pedestrians and kept my gaze locked on her fleeing back, every step bringing me inches closer to bringing her down.
    Distantly—very distantly—I