Back Every Which Way But Dead
Chapters (42)
  1. EVERY
  2. Dedication
  3. Epigraph
  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. The Undead Pool: An Excerpt
  38. Chapter 2
  39. About the Author
  40. Praise for KIM HARRISON’sprevious Rachel Morgan novelsDEAD WITCH WALKING andTHE GOOD, THE BAD, AND THE UNDEAD
  41. Also by Kim Harrison
  42. About the publisher

There was nowhere for Jenks to land in the barren hallway, and he reluctantly lighted on my shoulder. Jaw clenched so hard it hurt, I made a fist to hammer on Nick’s door. He had to be home—he didn’t go anywhere without his truck—but before I could, the door swung open.

My arm dropped and I stared at Nick, my surprise mirrored on his long face. His coat was unzipped and a homemade hat of soft blue yarn was pulled tight to his ears. He took it off as I watched, shifting it and the keys in his grip to his other hand, which held a slick-looking briefcase at odds with his otherwise ragtag attire. His hair was tousled, and he smoothed it with a deft hand while he regained his composure. There was snow on his boots. Unlike his truck.

Keys jingling, he set the briefcase down. He took a breath, then let it slowly out. The guilt in his eyes told me I was right. “Hi, Ray-ray.”

“Hi, Nick,” I said, hitting the k with an excessive force. “I guess our date is off.”

Jenks buzzed a greeting, and I hated the apologetic look he gave Nick. Four inches or six-foot-four, they were all in the same club. Nick didn’t move to invite me in.

“Was tonight a dump dinner?” I asked abruptly, just wanting to be done with it.

His eyes widened. “No!” he protested, but his gaze flicked to the briefcase.

“Is it someone else, Nick? ’Cause I’m a big girl. I can take it.”

“No,” he repeated, his voice softer. He shifted, looking frustrated. He reached out, stopping just shy of my shoulder. His hand fell. “No.”

I wanted to believe him. I really did. “Then what?” I demanded. Why didn’t he invite me in? Why did we have to do this in the freaking hallway?

“Ray-ray,” he whispered, his brow furrowed. “It’s not you.”

My eyes closed as I gathered my strength. How many times had I heard that?

His foot shoved the expensive briefcase into the hall, and my eyes flew open at the scraping sound. I stepped aside as he came out, shutting the door behind him. “It’s not you,” he said, his voice suddenly hard. “And it wasn’t a dump dinner. I don’t want to call it quits between us. But something came up, and frankly it’s none of your business.”

Surprised, my lips parted. Jenks’s words flashed through me. “You’re still afraid of me,” I said, pissed that he didn’t trust me to not pull a line through him again.