Eleventh Grave in Moonlight

“We can’t risk it, Cook. We don’t want to do anything that will scare him off.”

She agreed with a soft nod, but she wasn’t happy about any of it.

“You’ll be able to hear the whole thing from the van.”

We’d set up a special surveillance van and, as per regulation, had an ambulance waiting in the wings.

Ubie knelt in front of her. “How does that feel?” he asked, gesturing toward the wire. Jimmy had had to reach inside her camisole to clip it to her bra. Humiliation had surged through her, poor kid. But I got the feeling that had been the worst of it.

“Fine.”

He cupped her chin and waited for her gaze to meet his. “We will be right there, smidgeon. I would never let anything happen to you.”

She nodded, dipped her head, then lunged forward and wrapped her arms around him. Cookie pressed a hand to her chest. Now that she knew what had been eating at Ubie – namely, a drug baron wanting to make a creole sauce with my brains and enjoy it over a nice frittata – she felt a small amount of relief. I only prayed that after today this whole ordeal would be done and over with. For Cookie’s sake.

Amber sat back down, her hands still shaking so badly she had to clasp them together.

I looked at the crew, letting my gaze linger for a moment longer than necessary on the ball and chain as he leaned against the doorjamb and sipped from a black mug. Then I focused on Cookie. “Do you mind if I talk to her alone?”

“Oh,” she said, a little surprised. “Not at all.”

She stood and shooed everyone out, including Tall, Dark, and Sensual. He had to tease her, of course. He stood his ground until she started to step across the threshold, then he blocked her path, an evil grin widening his mouth.

She stopped and questioned him with her gaze; then, realizing he was teasing her, she physically turned him and pushed him from the room. He raised his arms in surrender.

God bless him. He was trying to help Cookie deal and it was working.

Amber relaxed, just barely, after they left. It was a lot to put on a thirteen-year-old’s shoulders. This entire sting was not only for her benefit, but hinged on how well she could pull it off.

I sat on the bed opposite the desk where Amber sat. She stared at her shoes for a solid minute before glancing up at me.

“I will be right there, Amber. I’ll hear everything you say. If you feel like something is wrong or you get scared, you just give the signal.”

The signal was a phrase: Don’t tell your mom about the jelly. Of course, running and screaming worked, too.

She let out a nervous laugh, the sound soft and shaky. “I don’t know why I’m so scared.”

I lifted a brow. “Want me to tell you?” After she nodded, I said, “Because this guy knows a lot about you. He stalked you for a while before initiating contact. He threatened your stepdad. You wish Quentin were here. And this is a big operation with a lot of people and a lot at stake, and you don’t think you’re worth it.”

She glanced up, surprised.

“You don’t think we should have gone to all this trouble, and I’m going to tell you right now, you are wrong, Amber.” I took her hands into mine. “You couldn’t be more wrong. Odds are this guy is just some nut who would eventually leave you alone, but we cannot take that chance, hon.”

She withdrew inside herself, her shoulders going concave. “It’s just a lot of fuss for what might turn out to be nothing.”

“Amber, you are the most confident thirteen-year-old I’ve ever met.” I rethought that. “Okay, the second-most confident.” Angel exuded confidence by the bucketsful. “Don’t let this guy knock you off your game. That makes him the winner. Even if he never touches a hair on your head, he’s still won, and that is not okay in my book. Because there is nothing on earth more important than you.”

She nodded, completely unconvinced.

“Can I tell you a secret?”

A spark of interest lit her blue eyes.

“You are on her team.”

Intrigue straightened her shoulders. “Whose?”

I smiled and thought about everything this amazing kid had left to do. And she’d need all of the tenacity she could get. I’d be damned before I’d stand idly by and let this asswipe drain even an ounce of that spunk and spitfire from her lovely, graceful bones.

I squeezed her hands and said, “Beep’s.”

Her lids rounded in awe.

“I’ve seen it. You’re a prophet.” Warmth filled me just thinking about it. “You’re the prophet.”

The look of amazement and wonder that overtook her face was my reward for confiding in her. “I’m… me? I’m the prophet? The one who sees into the future?”

“You already see into it better than I’ll ever be able to. I think we should talk to your mom about honing those skills. You’re going to need them to help Beep in the coming years, don’t you think?”

She nodded, excitement and enthusiasm overpowering her fear. Her uncertainty. “I would like that.”

“And I shouldn’t be telling you this, because nothing is ever set in stone – things could change – but Quentin is on her team, too.”

Her expression went from ecstatic to dreamy. The girl had it bad. “That would be the coolest thing ever.”

“I agree.” The fact that Quentin was about to turn seventeen and Amber didn’t turn fourteen for a couple of months had me a little on edge. It was one thing when the kid was sixteen. There was just something about his inevitable seventeen-dom that brought out the mother bear in me.

Then again, Beep was barely two months old and I’d already peddled her off to a four-hundred-year-old demon.