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Contents ( 44)
  1. KIM HARRISON
  2. A FISTFUL OF CHARMS
  3. Contents
  4. One
  5. Two
  6. Three
  7. Four
  8. Five
  9. Six
  10. Seven
  11. Eight
  12. Nine
  13. Ten
  14. Eleven
  15. Twelve
  16. Thirteen
  17. Fourteen
  18. Fifteen
  19. Sixteen
  20. Seventeen
  21. Eighteen
  22. Nineteen
  23. Twenty
  24. Twenty-one
  25. Twenty-two
  26. Twenty-three
  27. Twenty-four
  28. Twenty-five
  29. Twenty-six
  30. Twenty-seven
  31. Twenty-eight
  32. Twenty-nine
  33. Thirty
  34. Thirty-one
  35. Thirty-two
  36. Thirty-three
  37. Thirty-four
  38. Thirty-five
  39. Acknowledgments
  40. About the Author
  41. Frightfully good praise for KIM HARRISON’s previous Rachel Morgan novels
  42. Books by Kim Harrison
  43. Copyright
  44. About the Publisher

“It’ll work,” I said, putting my hand under the table so I wouldn’t touch my stitches.

She frowned, the rim of brown growing about her eyes. “A Mack truck driven by your ex-boyfriend is going to run over you, and you say everything is going to be okay?”

Well, when she put it like that…

Jenks snorted, shifting his chair a little farther from Ivy. “Crap for brains is back.”

I turned in my seat, almost glad to see Nick. He had a glass of water with a slice of lemon and two drinks of differing shades of orange. One had a carrot stick in it, and he put the other before Ivy as he eased into the chair beside me. I resettled my bag on my lap and tried to make it look like I wasn’t concerned about it.

Ivy curved her fingers about her drink. “That had better not have alcohol in it,” she said, looking at Nick’s drink. Jenks reached to take it, and Nick jerked it away, all but spilling it.

“You aren’t drinking anything if you’re aiming a truck at Rachel,” the large pixy said.

Bothered, I grabbed the glass and brought it to my nose. Before Nick could protest, I took a sip, almost spitting it out. “What in hell is that?” I exclaimed, running my tongue around the inside of my mouth. It was mealy, but sweet.

“It’s a Virgin Bloody Rabbit.” Sullen, Nick pulled it closer. “There’s no alcohol in it.”

Bloody Rabbit? It was a Virgin Bloody Mary made with carrot juice. “These are better made from tomato juice,” I said, and Nick blanched.

Jenks tapped his fingers on the table, smiling when Becky stopped at our table and set down a plate of ice cream and pastry along with his four-cherry drink and the requested number of spoons. No fries. Big surprise. “Thanks, Becky,” Jenks called after her over the music, and her neck went red.

Ivy took one of the spoons and delicately scooped a dollop of ice cream, placing it succinctly into her mouth. She pushed it away as if done, saying, “Peter is in the bathroom.”

My heart gave a thump. Check.

Nick took a shaky breath. I wouldn’t look at him, pretending interest in plucking the cherry with the longest stem out of Jenks’s drink. Nick stood, and Ivy reached across the table to grab his wrist. He froze, and my eyes went from his still swollen masculine fingers to Ivy’s face. Her eyes were black, a severe anger shining from behind them.

“If you don’t show up on that bridge,” she said, lips hardly moving. “I swear I’ll find you. And if you hurt her, I’ll make you a shadow, begging me to bleed you every night for the rest of your pathetic life.” Looking like a wraith, she inhaled, taking away the warmth of the room. “Believe it.”

I sent my eyes up the faded flannel of his shirt to find him ashen and afraid. For the first time, he was afraid. I was too. Hell, even Jenks had drawn away from her.