“Quinn, you’re a great man, and you’re so attractive, and I am so fond of you,” I said. I looked him right in the eyes because I wanted him to see how much I meant every word. “But . . . and some days I think, unfortunately for me . . . I love Eric. He comes with a thousand years of baggage . . . but he’s it for me now.” I took another deep breath. “With regret, I’m going to turn you down, but I am your true friend, and I always will be.”

He pulled me close. We hugged each other hard, and I stepped back. “You go have a good time,” I said, blinking furiously, and then he was gone.

After a few moments of recovery—and feeling definitely on the noble side—I drifted into the backyard to see if Sam needed anything. The gas grill had been turned off, so he’d cooked everything there was to cook. The outside lights were on, but there was a sharp contrast of light and shadow in Bernie’s backyard. Someone had brought out a CD player and turned the volume up. I wondered why Jim Collins hadn’t appeared to protest.

I saw a small figure emerge from the shadows at the corner of the house. It was a woman wearing a vest with a bra under it, and a tiny skirt, and gladiator sandals. The evening was cooling off rapidly, and I figured the newcomer would be covered in goose pimples soon. Her short dark brown hair was slicked back smoothly.

And then I recognized her.

Jannalynn was dressed to kill. I’d imagined her being here in a moment of craziness, and here she was.

Awkward.

Sam saw her at the same moment I did, and I could read him like a book in that moment. He was happy to see her, but he was also flabbergasted—and that’s the best way I can put it.

“Hello, young woman,” said Bernie, stepping in the Were’s path. “I don’t believe I’ve met you yet. I’m Bernie Merlotte.”

Jannalynn took in the cheerful gathering, saw all the twoeys having a good time, and I guess she had her own black moment when she wondered why Sam hadn’t invited her when there were so many other two-natured guests. I was glad I wasn’t in her line of sight. I stepped back into the kitchen . . . because frankly, I was scared to death of Jannalynn. I’d seen her in action, and it was no fluke that the packleader of Shreveport had named her his enforcer.

“Hey, honey,” she called, spotting Sam over his mother’s shoulder.

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FOUR