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Oh, my Lord, he whispered.
Her insides went liquid. But -- Jack! If Tommy and I -- Jack would never forgive either
of us.
Lorie... Lips brushed hers, her name a caress. Warm. Gentle.
No, Tommy! She pushed him sharply, and he set her down just as sharply. She backed
away. We can t play this game. The perfume was working too well -- well enough, but on
the wrong person.
His shoulders hunched, as they had at the window. Damn Jack.
Regret pulsed through her. But he wasn t Jack. She laid a hand on his sleeve. I m
sorry.
I am too. Listen, I have to go down to the newsstand. If I hurry, I can be back before
full dark. Will you be okay?
The stairwell... She kept her voice level. Will I?
He snarled. If you have to know, I actually plan to duck into one of the empty rooms
on this floor and choke my chicken until I can see straight again. Unless you really want to
help -- which just might get out of hand -- I suggest you pretend I went to the newsstand.
Get it?
She nodded shakily. What he planned to wrap his hand around was a whole lot thicker
than a chicken neck. Or a turkey neck. But the image was clear.
Good! He jammed his hat on his head and strode out. Lock this door!
She locked the door and went to the chair. She sat watching the rain, her hands folded
in her lap. Eventually, she looked down. Five blood-colored nails and five clean ones. She
slowly scratched off the nail paint. It left pink stains. How do you make chlorine gas?
Lights Out! 73
* * * * *
She woke with a start, disoriented and stiff-necked in the chair. Fuzzily, and without
grasping why it caught her attention, she noticed the guys abruptly stop talking.
Jack paced. He wore the bathrobe, and the light glinted like gold dust in his tousled
dark hair.
The blanket covered her from chin to toes. She shrugged the frayed cloth down from
her shoulders and rubbed her eyes. Jack passed close, pausing to touch his knuckles to her
cheekbone. Like a caress. Almost.
Good morning, sleepyhead. Tommy sat on the lowboy, wearing his britches and
braces and mis-matched socks. He scratched idly at a long, ragged scar across his ribs.
Morning? She glanced from the clock -- a quarter of nine -- to the window, but the
curtain was pinned shut. She stretched out her stiffness, counting three cracks as she twisted
her neck, and turned back to the guys. The room was awfully warm, but the radiator
whistled at full blast. I take it you got home okay, Jack.
Jack grinned wolfishly. I was so horny, neither man nor beast dared delay me.
Join the club, Tommy muttered, which answered any question about what horny
meant.
She pushed the blanket to her lap, and folded her hands primly over it. Do you plan to
let that little problem interfere with your hunting plans?
Tommy laughed shortly.
Jack cut him off with a wave. Sex is the best lure, Shy. If you don t smell of sex, blood
or extraordinary levels of emotion, you can t draw the monsters we hunt.
Tommy reached into his pockets and moved the ridge of his cock. She couldn t help
watching, though her face heated uncomfortably. He grinned, and hooked his thumbs in his
braces.
She resolutely looked away. The perfume tolls them.
Tommy didn t look like a man who expected to be thrown out of the room. He wants
to see -- what, how my fat jiggles?
Theaters that show hoochy-coochy movies never go broke.
Jack cleared his throat. To guarantee the effect, you need to radiate the glow -- and
the aroma -- of a well-laid woman.
You need to stink of screwing, Tommy translated, kicking his heels like a schoolboy.
Close your head, Tom.
Instead, he grinned recklessly. You need a session of squirming, squalling, and
sweating.
Sounds like you want a baby with heat rash!
74 Amber Green
Tom. Stop it.
Lorie frowned. Hey, back up. My ma and the Berman sisters -- what drew the
monsters to them?
Jack shrugged. Sex, blood, or strong emotion. Most likely, they d just had a real good--
"
My ma was a widow-woman! And the Bermans was spinsters!
Tommy laughed unpleasantly. Widows are prime meat for a man who knows how to
treat them better than the mister did.
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