She looked up at him. Sweat beaded his forehead. “Are you nervous?"
"Petrified. But that won't stop me from killing the bastard."
"Just remember not to move or take a shot before the ghosts have his attention."
"I know, I know.” He hesitated, then added, “What are the chances of this really working?" Who knew? It was a chance they had to take. If it failed ... Well, they could always run and wait for Michael to get strong again—even if that enforced his belief she was not capable of doing this type of work. “Probably small. Farmer's a born and bred killer. I'm not really sure if being confronted by his victims will make any difference."
"Chances are it won't."
"It's not every day a killer is confronted by those he killed. Maybe the shock of it will hold him long enough."
Jake snorted. “He's a vampire. Why would ghosts scare him?"
"Why wouldn't they? Just because he became a vampire doesn't mean he lost all his human fears. I think you'll find deep inside that bully exterior is the scared little boy who cowered under the taunts of a dozen women."
"I sure hope you're right. This could get extremely messy otherwise." It probably would anyway. Nothing had gone right for them so far. Why would it start happening now?
A prickle of warning ran across her skin. Evil stirred the night. Farmer was circling the park, perhaps checking they were here alone. She hoped he didn't sense Michael, who was waiting in the limo a block away.
"Heads up,” she said. “He's coming in from the left." Jake nodded once and shoved his hand into his pocket. Nikki stepped slightly in front of him—half to keep Farmer's attention primarily on her, half to protect Jake. She didn't trust Farmer one ounce and wouldn't put it past him to try to kill Jake first.
But when he arrived, killing seemed to be the last thing on his mind. Or so anyone who couldn't taste his evil would have thought. He walked up the incline toward them at a leisurely pace, an amused smile playing across his thin lips. He obviously thought the game was already his. She hoped he wasn't right.>"Okay, got both."
He took a deep breath and looked at her. Undo the makeshift splint. That's certainly a novel use for socks. Though her mind voice held a note of amusement, it was countered by the trembling in her fingers. She didn't want to do this—but then, neither did he. The socks and the bar supporting his arm slipped away and agony threatened. He took a deep breath, fighting the tide.
"Okay, what next?"
I'll set the bone into place using my vampire vision, then you'll have to quickly splint and wrap it. She nodded again. He switched to infrared vision and looked at his arm. His flesh disappeared, became instead a glowing beacon of sinew, veins and bone. The break was fairly clean, despite the fact one end of the bone had punctured skin.
He took another deep breath then grabbed his wrist and pulled. A scream tore up his throat. He swallowed the scream and sucked down air, battling the urge to be ill, fighting the darkness and the pain that made his head swim and threatened to sweep him into unconsciousness. Sweat rolled into his eyes. He blinked furiously, staring at his arm, watching the bone slide back through skin and into place. Now.
She quickly began to splint and bandage his arm. The darkness threatened again, but he forced it away, watching his arm, making sure the bone stayed in place while she worked on it. But once she'd finished, he finally gave in and let unconsciousness sweep him away.
* * * *
Footsteps echoed on the deck above them. Nikki rose and walked quietly to the door. The night air was free from the taint of evil, so it couldn't be Farmer or any of his fledglings. Though how they'd find them so quickly she didn't know. Still, she'd learned the hard way never to underestimate the bad guys. She grabbed the broom handle she'd sharpened to use as a weapon and edged up the ladder. Shoes and jeans came into sight, then a torso. It was Jake.
"You want something to drink?” she said, backing down the ladder again. He shook his head. He looked haggard, old beyond his years, and just about ready to drop with exhaustion. It was his thirst for vengeance getting him through this, nothing more. “I just want this all over with."
Didn't they all. She sat down at the table and wrapped her hands around the coffee cup. “Did the police say anything?"
He shrugged as he dropped down on the bench seat. “The usual. The FBI wanted to know where the hell you were."
She raised an eyebrow. “Why?"
"Because I think they suspect we have every intention of going after this madman and administering our own form of justice."
"Their justice wouldn't stop a man like Farmer."
"No. But they don't see it that way."
"No."
Jake leaned back and scrubbed a hand across his bristly chin. It made a sound similar to sandpaper.
“How's Michael?"
Her gaze went to the bedroom door. He hadn't stirred, hadn't even twitched, for the last two hours—not even when she'd stripped him down and bathed him. God, she'd never seen so many bruises on one body before...