Sherrilyn Kenyon - Infamous

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“Got you, you worthless pig-dog.” Nick actually smiled.

Kody frowned. “Got who?”

Nick held his phone up in triumph. “Whoever is doing this just made the mistake of texting me with their stupidity. I’m going to Bubba’s. Y’all coming?”

Kody inclined her head. “Right behind you.”

“You lead.”

Gripping his phone, Nick walked the few blocks over to Royal Street where Bubba’s store, The Triple B, was located. The only combination gun and computer store in the world—that Nick knew about anyway—it had the largest selection of guns and computers in the state of Louisiana. Which said it all about the owner. Bubba was a different breed, unlike anyone Nick had ever known. He danced to his own tune and didn’t care who saw him do it, either.

Bubba was also a walking enigma. Most people dismissed him as a total rube, but that would be like trying to define the ocean as simply wet. While Bubba did have a thick Tennessee mountain drawl, he’d graduated with honors at the top of his class from MIT. He had several Ph.D.s, including a doctor of science degree in theoretical nuclear and particle physics. Nick didn’t even know for sure what that was, other than impressive.

The man also knew more about horror movies than anyone with a real life should. In fact, Bubba was forever wearing a black horror T-shirt of some kind, and it was usually accompanied by a red flannel shirt. Even in the summer heat.

Though to be fair to Bubba, the server farm Bubba ran at The Triple B had to be kept around fifty degrees year round. And since that was where Bubba spent much of his day, Nick could understand wanting something a little warmer than a T-shirt.

Still, that was why the good Lord had given them hoodies. Too bad Bubba couldn’t find that section of a clothing store.

But as Nick entered, he drew up short as he caught sight of Bubba behind the glass counter in an expensive black suit with a blue dress shirt and blue striped tie. Even more shocking, Bubba had on a pair of glasses, and his thick beard had turned into a fashionable goatee

Holy hand grenades. The man almost looked normal. He was still humongously tall with an aura of I’ll-kick-your-butt-if-you-laugh-at-me, but …

Please, don’t tell me you finally blew up Mark …

“Someone die?” Nick asked.

Bubba gave him a droll stare. “I’m about to leave to pick my mama up from the airport, and I know she’s going to want to stop by church as soon as we get into town, so that she can thank God she didn’t crash.”

That only confused Nick more. “I’ve seen you in church … a lot … and you’ve never been dressed like that before.”

“That’s ’cause my mama wasn’t there. If I went into a church in jeans with her, she’d beat me senseless. The woman still won’t wear pants to Mass. She says it’s disrespectful to the priest and to God.” He held his hand up. “Don’t ask. I’ve tried talking sense into her, but she don’t listen to me.”

Nick was baffled by how anyone could cow the mighty Bubba of all people. The man was epic. Larger than life. Most of all … “Yeah, but you’re old.”

Bubba arched a brow at him as if he was offended by Nick’s words. “I’m not that old. I’ve barely cracked past thirty. And in mama years, it don’t matter, boy. Hell, she still cuts my meat up for me at Thanksgiving before she gives me my plate. I’m lucky she’s not still spooning me Gerber in a high chair.”

Caleb and Nick laughed at the ludicrous image.

Kody made a sound of irritation. “Well, I think it’s sweet.”

Bubba inclined his head respectfully to her. “Thank you, Miss Kody. Now what can I do for y’all?”

Nick stepped forward to hand Bubba his phone. “There’s someone messing with the kids at school, posting awful stuff about them, and whoever it is, just texted me this Web site. Can you help us find out who it is?”

Bubba grumbled in the back of his throat. “I would. You know that. But I can’t be late to pick up Mama. She’ll end up adopting half the staff at the airport if I leave her there unattended. Mark!” He shouted out so unexpectedly that all three of them jumped.

A few seconds later, Fingerman snatched at the curtain that separated the front of the store from the back room. In his midtwenties, Mark had shaggy brown hair and bright green eyes. Dressed in a baggy tan T-shirt that had seen better days, he looked like he hadn’t shaved in a couple of days.

Ah, that was where Bubba’s beard had gone.

Mark had been working for Bubba off and on for years. But more than that, the two of them were best friends, and Mark was every bit as crazy as Bubba.

Wait, on second thought, he was even crazier. Bubba didn’t make a habit of dousing himself in duck urine to ward off zombies. Thank goodness Mark wasn’t wearing it today, ‘cause that stuff stank with a big capital S.

“Dang it all, Bubba, how many times do I have to tell you not to do that? You scare the crap out of me with that booming voice of yours. It carries and breaks the sound barrier. One day, you’re gonna cause me to leave a pile of it in the back room and I’m not gonna clean it up. You cause it. You clean it.”

Bubba mumbled something that sounded like Latin.

“I’m not a wimp,” Mark said defensively. “And I’m not your dog. Don’t bark at me, boy. One day you gonna make me bite.”

Nick cleared his throat to remind the two of them that they weren’t alone. “Uh, guys? My phone? Malicious lunatic at school? Your mom at the airport?”

That snapped Bubba’s attention to where Nick wanted it. He handed the phone to Mark. “I need you to trace the IP on this and find out who registered the domain.”

“Yeah, all right. I can do that.”

“I know you can. That’s why I called you out here.”

Mark clenched his jaw in a way that let Nick know he was having to force himself not to comment. After a few seconds, he gestured toward the door. “Don’t you need to go get your mama? It’s a long trip from Bucksnort to New Orleans, and God love the good-hearted woman, she never met a stranger a day in her life.”

“I’m going.” Bubba opened his jacket to check the pocket and make sure he had his wallet. He patted his pants, then frowned.

Mark picked his keys up from the counter and held them out.

With a sigh of relief, Bubba took them from him. “Thanks.”

Inclining his head, Mark didn’t say anything until after Bubba had left the store. “I swear, I love his mama, but I hate whenever she comes to town. That boy gets so beside himself he can’t think straight.”

Caleb snorted. “I didn’t know he ever thought straight.”

Mark laughed at that. “True. All right, y’all, come on back and I’ll trace this for you.”

They walked around the counter and through the curtains. Kody took a seat at the long, tall worktable that was strewn with various computer parts. When she reached for a motherboard, Mark grabbed her hand. “Make sure you ground yourself before you touch anything.” He stressed the last word.

She frowned. “Ground myself? I’m not floating, am I?” From anyone else that would sound like a joke, but since Kody could actually fly …

Mark placed her hand on the metal computer casing. “Static electricity is your worst enemy in computers, and when pumping gas.”

Caleb and Nick exchanged an amused grin. Knowing Mark, this had to be good. After all, Mark was the only one Nick knew who could set fire to his jeep by simply answering his cell phone.

“Pumping gas?” Nick asked.

“Yeah, I once blew up my uncle’s motorcycle by accident and set fire to my favorite pair of jeans. ’Course it’d been even more wrong had I done it intentionally. Anyway, I slid off the vinyl seat and touched the nozzle without grounding myself. The spark ignited the fumes and that was all she wrote. You’d be amazed how many people a year blow themselves up. Believe it or not, I’m not the only one … Not exactly sure how that makes me feel, though. Glad I’m not the only one, but still…”