Chapters (60)
- DAW Books Presents
- HAPPY HOURINHELL
- Copyright page
- Contents
- Dedication
- ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
- prologue
- one
- two
- three
- four
- five
- six
- interlude
- seven
- eight
- nine
- ten
- eleven
- twelve
- interlude
- thirteen
- fourteen
- interlude
- fifteen
- sixteen
- seventeen
- eighteen
- nineteen
- twenty
- twenty-one
- interlude
- twenty-two
- twenty-three
- twenty-four
- twenty-five
- twenty-six
- twenty-seven
- twenty-eight
- twenty-nine
- thirty
- thirty-one
- thirty-two
- thirty-three
- thirty-four
- thirty-five
- thirty-six
- thirty-seven
- thirty-eight
- thirty-nine
- forty
- forty-one
- forty-two
- forty-three
- forty-four
- forty-five
- forty-six
- forty-seven
- forty-eight
- epilogue
I wasn’t going to dignify this kind of bullshit with a reply. I kept my temper, concentrating instead on the slender, shivering woman pressed against me. She looked up, eyes pleading. I undid the gag, then bent and kissed her cheek, just a touch, before turning back to Eligor. She tasted of salt. I thought it was because she was crying.
“Oh, Bobby . . . !” she said. She definitely did not sound happy.
“Anything else? Last pithy oneliner? No? Well, you and your friends enjoy your evening, Dollar.” The grand duke sauntered to his big car and climbed into the back. Fiddlescrape closed the door behind him. As the big freak got into the driver’s seat and revved the engine, I realized it had been running quietly the whole time. Why should Eligor be ready for a quick getaway? He couldn’t have believed that I was going to fall for his doppelganger, could he?
Eligor rolled down the backseat window. “I suspect we’ll see each other again,” he said as the car backed up and then turned to face the exit. “That’s the way it is with annoying people, you just keep running into them over and over and over . . .”
And then the big car bumped down the ramp. Clarence let out a little breath of relief—it sounded like someone stepping on a hamster—and sat down on the oily cement floor of the parking garage. Obviously it had all been a bit much for him. But it had all been worth it, because I was holding Caz again.
I had been waiting until that bastard was gone to kiss her properly, but before I could lower my face to hers I realized that my arm felt wet where I was holding her. For an irrational moment I thought she’d been shot, even though no gun had been fired, and I was terrified.
She was crying, harder than I’d ever seen anyone cry, the tears just sheeting down her cheeks. Then her face began to waver, as if I was seeing it through deep water. A moment later everything that was Caz about her just washed away, like wet paint hosed off a wall, and I was staring down into the haunted, filmy eyes of Marmora, the drowned social secretary of Flesh House.