Micah - By Laurell K. Hamilton Page 0,3

grinned at me. "If I tell you that was really cute, will you be mad at me?"

"Yes," I said, but I was fighting not to smile.

He leaned his upper body off the bed, toward me. "Then I won't say it," he said. "I love you, Anita." He leaned down, but if we were going to kiss I'd have to come to my knees and meet him halfway.

I moved into the kiss he was offering and whispered against his lips, "I love you, too."

"Tell me what city we're flying to," Micah said from the bed, "and I'll see about flights."

I broke the kiss enough to mumble, "Philadelphia."

Nathaniel leaned in to me again, one hand holding on to the bedpost to keep him in place. The muscles of his arm flexed effortlessly as he used the other hand to smooth hair away from my face. "I'll miss you."

"I'll miss you, too," I said, and I realized that I meant it. But one "assistant" I might be able to explain to the FBI, not two. Two and they'd begin to wonder who they were and exactly what they were assisting me with. Or that's what I told myself. Staring into the startling lavender of Nathaniel's eyes, I wondered if I cared what the FBI thought of me enough to leave him behind. Almost not. Almost.
Chapter 2
We picked up Larry's files on the way to the airport. Micah drove so I could find a phone number to call and let everyone in Philly know that there'd been a change of cast. The business card read, Special Agent Chester Fox.

He answered on the second ring. "Fox." Not even a hello. What was it about police work that made you have bad phone manners?

"This is Federal Marshal Anita Blake. You're expecting Marshal Kirkland this morning?"

"He's not coming," Fox guessed.

"No, but I am."

"What happened to Kirkland?"

"His wife is in the hospital." I wondered how much I owed him on the phone. I decided not much.

"I hope she's going to be all right." His voice had lost some of its edge. He sounded almost friendly. It made me think better of him.

"She probably will, but they're not sure about the baby."

Silence for a moment. I'd probably over-shared. That girlness again. Harder to be terse.

"I didn't know. I'm sorry that Marshal Kirkland couldn't make it and even sorrier for the reason. I hope things work out for them."

"Me, too. So I'm filling in."

"I know who you are, Marshal Blake." He was back to not sounding entirely happy. "Your reputation precedes you." That last was definitely not happy.

"Are we going to have a problem here, Agent Fox?"

"Special Agent Fox," he said.

"Fine, are we going to have a problem here, Special Agent Fox?"

"Are you aware that you have the highest kill count of any legal vampire executioner in this country?"

"Yeah, actually, I am aware of that."

"You're coming here to raise the dead, Marshal, not execute anyone. Is that clear?"

Now I was getting pissed. "I don't kill people for the hell of it, Special Agent Fox."

"That's not what I've heard." His voice was quiet.

"Don't believe all the rumors you hear, Fox."

"If I believed them all, I wouldn't let you step foot in my city, Blake."

Micah touched my leg, just to be comforting, while he drove one-handed. We were already on 70, which meant we'd be at the airport in moments.

"You know, Fox, if you're this unhappy with me, we can turn around and not come. Raise your own damn zombie."

"We?"

"I'm bringing an assistant," I said, voice angry.

"And exactly what does he assist you with?" And his voice was full of that tone, that tone that men have been using against women for centuries. That tone that manages to imply we're sluts without ever saying so.

"I'm going to be very clear here, Special Agent Fox." My voice held that calm, cold anger that I used in place of screaming. Micah's hand tightened on my thigh. "Your attitude makes me think we won't be able to work together. That you've listened to so many rumors that you wouldn't know truth if it bit you on the ass."

He started to say something, but I cut him off.

"Think very carefully about the next thing you say, Special Agent Fox, because depending on what it is, I may or may not be seeing you in Philly today, or ever."

"Are you saying if I don't play nice, you won't play at all?" His voice was as cold as mine had been.

"Nice, hell. Fox, I'd just take professional at