Bones and Bagger (Waldlust Series Book 1) by Ted Minkinow Read Free Book Online Page B

I wanted to shake some sense into my head, but I couldn’t afford to because the first nanosecond I took my eyes off Soyla I ran the risk of losing said little soldier—Soyla could write the lady’s guidebook on that stuff. 
    “Why?”
    That was me with the same question, different chick.  I mean, the line seemed to work fine on Sarah Arias.  Truth though, it was all I could think to say.  OK, so I’m challenged with it comes to communicating with women. 
    “Why not?” Soyla said, and for a moment I couldn’t think of a good reason why not. 
    But Sparky was Sparky, he couldn’t help himself and his idiotic practical jokes.  Was a few knives in my various body organs and other assorted deadly stunts played on me every half century or so reason enough to abandon him to Soyla?
    Well, yes.
    But I don’t roll like that and I made up my mind years ago not to alter my values for mere self-preservation.  Besides, she’d spent all her smoke-and-mirrors tricks and I still stood.  I thought I could take her down because the next engagement would be on fair terms.  Other than the sexy pose…and the painted-on clothes.  No way for me to match those two assets.  Make that four assets, counting what I saw above the waist.
    Soyla must have understood further conflict wouldn’t go her way because she didn’t attack.  Something else worked against her too.  Against both of us. Our natural vampire repellant.  First it would disorient us.  Then it would kill us.  If we let it get that far.  She spoke.
    “You offer sanctuary?”
    Uh, oh . 
    Deer in the headlights.  I didn’t see that one coming.  Providing Sanctuary means protecting someone engaged in a blood feud.  My first and best hint as to why Sparky showed up.  Offer of Sanctuary demands both responsibility and exposure. 
    If I responded yes, then killing Sparky OR me would satisfy the feud.  Satisfy, yes.  But experience showed it rarely stopped with the death of the target…or the protector—hypothetically, me. Here’s another tidbit for your notebook: once sanctuary is offered the feud becomes official and can’t end until somebody actually does die.  The Seven wrote that law.  Probably to get rid of the hotheads by natural selection.
    All I wanted was a beer with the gang.  Now this. Almost made me miss the good old days—thirty minutes ago—with Super Rumble.
    So old Sparky showed up for more than a social visit.  Given his disembodied arm lying at my feet, it seemed safe to conclude the same about Soyla .  What had those two knuckleheads gotten involved in? Did I want to know? Would I allowed myself to be dragged in as knucklehead number three?  More warnings from dear old dad.
    Have I told you Soyla wasn’t wearing pants? Blood feud. The matter at hand.  I didn’t appreciate Sparky bringing me into this as-yet anonymous mess and I didn’t appreciate Soyla employing nudity as a strategy to maneuver me into a position I was sure to regret.  Let’s not forget that. 
    Nudity?  More than willing to forgive. Outwit me by using my natural tendencies against me?  Never. But the word strategy implied a plan and organized thinking.  Not Soyla.  Before I stepped into the protector role I wanted at least one piece of information.  I asked the only question tradition bound Soyla to answer.
    “Primary or Centurion?”
    Soyla smiled.  “Centurion.”
    Crap . 
    Soyla as the hired gun.  I’d hoped for Primary, meaning the person bringing the feud.  The slim possibility of defusing the mess existed with Soyla as Primary.  Just throw some cash her way or maybe I could promise her something of a more personal nature to smooth the whole thing over for Sparky.  If I haven’t already told you this, it’s important for you to know she wasn’t wearing pants. 
    But Soyla as Centurion meant involvement by one or more others. Since those others would show themselves only after Soyla, and/or whoever else they might have hired, swept