“Holy shit, are you okay, man?”
“Good timing,” he growled, ignoring his partner’s outstretched hand as he pushed himself to his feet.
“The little one elbowed me right in the gut. Couldn’t breathe for a minute. Damn, you worked these guys over fast.”
With his back turned, Jackson examined his injury. It was more like a scratch, really. He was weak, yes, but like carb loading before a marathon, all the human energy he’d slogged tonight should prevent the effects of the silver from being too serious. Or at least he hoped it would. The pain had made its way to his shoulder now and he grimaced.
Mitch’s eyes widened. “Are you okay? He got you, didn’t he?”
“Yeah, with my blade.”
“I’m sorry, man. I should’ve seen it coming. Should’ve anticipated something like that happening. I heard the noise, saw shit flying, and I must’ve gotten distracted for a split second.”
“Don’t worry about it. Darkbloods on Sweet are unpredictable.”
Mitch pulled out his cell phone.
“Who the hell are you calling?” Jackson asked, though he was pretty damn sure he knew the answer.
“A medico team.”
“No, you’re not. This is nothing.” He couldn’t let the medical staff see him in this weakened state and do any testing. Who knew what the results would show.
Mitch eyed him skeptically. “You don’t look so good. Are you sure?”
“Yep. I’m fine.”
He tried not to reveal just how much pain he was in as he turned toward the nondescript back door of the club. Mitch already thought he was a stud when it came to women and fighting the bad guys. Might as well make it a hat trick, let him think this didn’t hurt like a motherfucker. “Now, come on, let’s get inside and take care of those reverts.”
“Reverts? You mean those guys at the table with the humans?”
Jackson rolled his eyes. “No, Cinderella and her evil stepsisters.”
CHAPTER FIVE
“DO YOU WANT MORE salad?” Arianna asked Krystal as she unplugged the panini maker and grabbed her own plate.
When she got home from work, she’d decided to fix dinner before she tackled her blog post for tomorrow. Now that Krystal was her responsibility, she was trying to set a good example by actually eating meals at a table, rather than in front of her computer or the TV the way she usually did. Besides, she wasn’t looking forward to writing the article in the first place, so she welcomed the distraction.
“I’m good,” her cousin answered flatly.
Arianna glanced over to the banquette where Krystal was still poking at her salad. Something had to be bothering her—she’d hardly said anything more than a one- or two-word sentence in response to Arianna’s questions about how her day was, and she was pretty sure it wasn’t the food causing her surliness. The girl had devoured the same salad several nights ago, and the panini wasn’t made with anything weird. Arianna picked up her glass of wine and slid in on the opposite side of the table.
“So you want to tell me what’s wrong?”
Krystal didn’t look up from her plate. She hid behind those brown curls covering her face as if she didn’t care, which Arianna knew was far from the truth.
“Come on. You can talk to me. What’s going on?”
The girl still didn’t answer, so Arianna continued. “Is it something to do with Sarah or one of your friends back home?”
“No, nothing like that.”
Arianna touched her sandwich, but it was still too hot to eat. The melted cheese would scorch the roof of her mouth. She took a bite of the salad, instead. “Is it your mom? Because if it is, you can tell me anything, Krystal. I promise.” Ever since Arianna’s mother died, Krystal’s mom, her mom’s twin, had had issues. First it was alcohol then prescription meds. She’d been in and out of rehab for years.
Krystal smashed a piece of feta cheese from the salad with her fork. “No, it’s not about Mom, either.”
Then what could be bothering her? Arianna had started to lift the glass to take a sip, when she set it back down again. “Listen, I’m not your mom. I’m your cousin. That basically means we’re like sisters, only it’s waaaay cooler. You can tell me anything. What am I going to do, ground you? Well … I guess technically I could, but I’m not going to. Come on, talk to me.”
Krystal sighed heavily and dropped her fork with a clank. “It’s my phone. The one you just got me. I—I …” When she looked up from her plate, tears glistened in her eyes. “I lost it. I’m sorry, Ari, I didn’t mean it. It’s like I had it one minute, then the next minute I didn’t.”
A knot quickly formed in her belly. How could they both lose their phones on the same day? She reached over and gave Krystal what she hoped was a reassuring squeeze. “When did you notice it was gone?” she asked cautiously.
“This morning. After you left for work. I looked every where. My backpack. My room. I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to lose it. I know it was expensive and everything. I’ll pay you back. I promise.”
Arianna’s heart melted at the girl’s distress over disappointing her. “It’s okay, Krystal, things like this happen. I know it wasn’t your fault.”
“Yeah, but I should’ve been more careful. I’m not used to having a phone to keep track of.”
“If it makes you feel any better, I just lost mine, as well. Can you believe it? Both on the same night.” Arianna tried to make it sound as if she thought it was a funny coincidence, but what were the chances of it happening to both of them simultaneously?
Krystal’s eyes widened. “Really?”
“Yeah, I’ve been trying to remember exactly where I was the last time I saw it.”
“Me, too!” Looking relieved, the girl turned her attention to her sandwich.
Arianna watched her cousin take a bite and waited for her reaction; it was nice having someone to cook for, she decided. “How’s the food?”
“It’s good. What’s in this one? Cheese, tomato and … what’s the green stuff? Spinach?”
“No, basil. It’s like the ingredients from a pizza, but without the meat.” Arianna wiped her fingers on her napkin and took a sip from her wineglass. Although it was a cheap, peppery merlot from the grocery store, it was actually pretty decent. “Hey, do you remember that street fight we saw last night?”
Krystal frowned, thinking. “Um … yeah, kinda.”
“And the guy who broke up the fight and helped us home?”
“Oh, yeah, I remember him.”
“Do you remember his name?”
“No, sorry. He had big muscles and a huge tattoo on his arm.”
“He did? I don’t remember that.” She couldn’t exactly call the police and ask to speak to the officer with the tattoo. “Wasn’t he wearing a leather coat?”
“Not when you were kissing him. The tattoo was right here.” Krystal giggled and pointed