Cat Adams - Blood Song

“A hat .” He said it like he’d bit into something sour. I wasn’t surprised. In fact, I found myself grinning

for the first time this morning.

“Wel l …” I dragged the word out. His response was worth it. Pure Bruno DeLuca. It made me smile.

“Dammit, Celia! The only hat I’ve got there is my Mets cap. Don’t you be touching my Mets cap.”

I tried being reasonable, glad that he couldn’t see me laughing at his expense. “I don’t have any

sunscreen here, Bruno. I can check down in the gift shop …” I paused for a long moment, letting my

grin build. I knew the gift shop didn’t sel them. I’d already checked when I cal ed for the soup.

He growled, but I could hear that he wasn’t serious. He was teasing, too … mostly . “I’m going to want

that back before the game tomorrow night.”

“You’re going to the game?” I’d been going to ask him to come with me. I don’t trust people easily, and

I probably trust Bruno more than anyone else in the world. If I was meeting the king, I wanted somebody

solid by my side. But if Bruno already had plans, I didn’t want to ruin them. Trust him to get tickets that

were al but impossible for anyone else to come by. Yeah, the locals were rooting for the Angels, but the

world was rooting for the Cubs. I mean, come on, they hadn’t won a championship since God was a

baby and dirt was new. Even the scalpers were having a hard time getting tickets.

“Bonus from the boss. Four seats, in the stands by first base. I’m bringing Sal and Joey. I was gonna

take Matty, but since he’s laid up, Kevin’s coming instead.”

I couldn’t decide if I was upset that Bruno hadn’t thought to invite me. I mean, I don’t real y like

basebal that much and he real y was here on business, but—

Plus, there went my second choice for a backup—Kevin. But I kept my tone cheerful. “You don’t need

the cap, the Mets aren’t playing.”

“It’s my cap .” He said it like it should be self-evident. It wasn’t, but I wasn’t going to argue. This must

be one of those guy things.

“Fine, fine. I won’t wear it. I’l pick something up at the store and then bring your cap by the hospital

tomorrow morning.”

“Don’t bother. I’m checking out.”

“Bruno—,” I started to protest.

“Don’t say a word. Just don’t. I’ve already heard about it from my mother, my brother, and my uncle. I

can rest just as wel at a five-star hotel with al the amenities as in the freaking hospital, and I am not

missing the game.”

He probably could rest at the hotel. If only he would.

“Celia? Are you there?”

I’d been silent too long … again. I was having a hard time focusing this morning. Then again, I hadn’t

had any caffeine yet. Hurry up, Room Service!

“Yeah, I’m here. Just a little tired. And worried.”

“You’re the one who should get some more rest. You didn’t get back until after sunrise and you’re

already up. And you’ve had a hel uva time the past couple of days.” His voice was gentle, and it made

me smile. Bruno is an original tough-guy Italian. But he is also a sweetheart, my sweetheart. Wel , my

former sweetheart. But I’l always love him. No matter what. And while he was right about resting, I

wasn’t going to do it. I stil had a life-threatening emergency going on.

“In that case I won’t deliver the hat back to the hotel. Because if I do neither one of us wil rest.” I was

only partly teasing. I remembered yesterday’s kiss so clearly it made me shiver.

“How ’bout you bring it by the hotel pool? Say tomorrow, one thirty?” He suggested this with a hint of

laughter in his voice. “It’s nice and public. We should be safe.”

“I’l do that. You can buy me a margarita.”

“Make it a pitcher and you’ve got a deal.”

“Are you planning to get me drunk and take advantage of me?”

“Would I do such a thing?” He spoke in an exaggerated drawl that made me laugh. We were stil

laughing when we hung up.

I thought about who to take to the game most of the day—while I dumped half the vampire’s ashes

into the ocean and the other half at a designated dump spot on the river—and was stil thinking on it as

I drove out to Birchwoods for my doctor’s appointment.

Yes, doctor’s appointment. One of the names Gwen had given me was for a doctor at Birchwoods.

She’d said Dr. Scott had specifical y asked her to make time to fit me in.

Peachy. And while I knew it was important, that I real y needed to talk to somebody, I didn’t want it to

be a stranger. Besides, I hate shrink appointments. Yes, I did them. For years. Then I was done, and

glad for it. You can only get out of psychiatric treatment what you’re wil ing to put in. I know that. I also

knew that I’d needed the treatment then, and now. I’d been a patient of one of the best shrinks in the

business, and she’d gone pretty damned deep into some seriously painful and dark places with me. I

was grateful. But it hadn’t been easy on either of us. Who could blame me if I wasn’t anxious to repeat

the process?

On top of that, I looked utterly ridiculous. Dawna would have a stroke if she could see me. The only

things of Bruno’s that even came close to fitting me were a red T-shirt and a pair of oversized black

nylon basketbal shorts with a drawstring waist. The shirt wasn’t so bad, but the shorts hung past my

knees and looked damned sil y, particularly with the added touches of the denim jacket, bal cap, and

sneakers without socks.

I’d been too upset to notice before, but the outpatient treatment area shared an entrance with the

administration building. I hauled my oh-so-elegantly clad ass up the sunlit sidewalk as quick as I could

manage, huddling under the umbrel a I’d borrowed from the lab and feeling surly. I’d bought sunscreen

from the hotel gift shop, but it’d been a smal bottle and only SPF 15, which didn’t real y cut it with my

new pal or. If there was time before sundown, I was definitely going shopping for something decent to

wear, a replacement hat, and heavy-duty sunscreen. Until then, I decided to feign blithe indifference.

There was a different receptionist this morning. This one was just as attractive as the previous model

but younger. Her blond hair was darker than mine, exactly the color of honey, but with wel -applied

highlights. Her clothes were stunning and fit her wel . I didn’t want to know how much those designer

shoes had set her back.

She was also too polite to gawk at my appearance. She did blink rapidly, several times, looking at the

umbrel a as I col apsed it, as if she wasn’t quite sure what she was seeing was actual y in front of her.

“I’m here to see …” I dug in my jacket pocket, pul ing out the note I’d scribbled on hotel stationery. “Dr.

Greene.”

“Ah.” She smiled, her eyes lighting up with understanding. “Ms. Graves.” She reached beneath the

counter and pul ed out a clipboard and a thick stack of forms. “If you could please take a seat and fil

out these forms for us, Dr. Greene wil be with you soon.”

“Soon” is a relative term.

I’d been there long enough to get through the maze of paperwork and was scanning my second

magazine when a familiar voice brought my head snapping up.

“You bitch !” Cassandra Meadows charged at me, past her husband and bodyguards and heedless of