Once Bitten, Twice Shy
ByJennifer Rardin
Contents
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Dear Reader,
A few months ago a manuscript zapped into my inbox with a cover note from the agent that read: "A nice place to visit, but you wouldn't want to die there." Miami isn't the first city you'd think of for an urban fantasy novel, but then again, Jaz Parks isn't your ordinary heroine. She's an Assistant Assassin. And her boss is an ancient vampire on the CIA's payroll.
ONCE BITTEN, TWICE SHY is the beginning of the Jaz Parks series. What I loved from the first page was Jaz Parks's voice: vulnerable on one side and yet fully capable of taking out anyone who gets in her way, usually the bad guys. This is a book that will keep you on the edge of your seat, so keep a pillow on the floor, just in case you fall off.
We all know that the urban fantasy market is booming, given the success of writers such as Keri Arthur, Patricia Briggs, Laurell K. Hamilton, Charlaine Harris, and Kim Harrison. But what I think each of them has—and what Jennifer Rardin has—is the ability to create characters that do more than leap off the page. They also grab you by the throat and don't let go.
This is, quite simply, a great read—fun, fast-paced, and oozing attitude and wit.
Best,
Devi Pillai
Editor, Orbit
P.S. ANOTHER ONE BITES THE DUST will be out in December 2007 and BITING THE BULLET will be joining the series in February 2008. We know you won't want to wait!
Copyright © 2007 by Jennifer Rardin
Orbit
Hachette Book Group USA
237 Park Avenue, New York, NY 10017
Visit our Web site at www.HachetteBookGroupUSA.com
First Edition: October 2007
Orbit is a trademark of Little, Brown Book Group Limited.
The characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
ISBN 9780316020466
Printed in the United States of America
For Kirk, my inspiration, my joy, my love.
Once Bitten, Twice Shy
Prologue
Fear sucks. Because you never know when it will hit you. Sometimes it sneaks up behind you, giggling like your best girlfriend from 7th grade. Then it whacks you on the back of the head, takes you straight to your knees before you realize what hit you. Other times you can see it coming, just a dot on the horizon, but you're like a canary in a cage. All you can do is hang in there and hope it doesn't hit you so hard you get motion sickness and puke all over the newspapers.
I already felt pretty queasy as I perched on the single, wooden folding chair in my boss, Pete's, office. In fact, I hadn't been this scared since I'd started working for him six months before. Not even when, about ten hours into my first mission, I'd walked into my hotel room to find a vampire standing beside the bed, holding a crossbow. My crossbow. The one I'd meant to use to eliminate him.
Unlike that scenario, this was not a case where I could just go away and try again later. Or, as I had actually done, kick both shoes into his face to throw him off balance, blast his kneecaps with the .38 I wore under my skirts for insurance, then finish him off with the crossbow he'd dropped when his bones shattered. In this instance I was forced to sit absolutely still and try not to ralf all over the Top Secret files stacked in rows two and sometimes three deep on Pete's green metal desk. Because, despite the fact that I'd successfully completed every mission he'd assigned me so far, Pete was about to fire my ass.
There could be no other explanation for this call-in. The man, notorious for his penny-pinching, had phoned me at 3:00 a.m. direct from Ohio to London for the express purpose of informing me I should buy a first-class ticket back to headquarters as soon as my job there was finished. He was probably looking at the receipt now, along with all the other expenses of my latest trip abroad. He ran a hand across his head, making his three remaining dome-hairs stand on end as he studied the open file in front of him.
I couldn't bear it any longer. There is only so much you can take of staring at blank turquoise walls, rows of black metal file cabinets, and white slatted blinds that have never been opened, which would explain the dead plant sitting on the table by the window. I sat forward, the chair creaking alarmingly beneath me. No doubt about it, I am the only thing in this office under the age of fifty.
You wouldn't know it to look at my clothes, though. I'd come straight from an American Airlines flight during which an avio-phobic widow had wadded various handfuls of my blouse and jacket into her fists the entire time. I looked like a homeless woman. Holy crap, if I lost this job I'd soon be a homeless woman. And that was the good news!
"Look, Pete, I know you told me to cut out the car hits. The repairs are too expensive. You told me that. So I stopped. I haven't caused an "accidental" crash in three months, you know that! But this last one just couldn't be avoided."
"I understand you took out my counterpart in MI5."
"Well, yeah, but only because his driver was in on the plot. He'll be fine. You heard that too, right? His back will heal in, like, six weeks."
"I heard there was a bomb."
"It didn't go off."
"But it could have."
I shrugged. "Better there than at the coronation." Wait, that sounds a little casual for somebody who should be begging at this point. "But I am sorry about the car. I took out extra insurance."
"This has nothing to do with the car. In fact, I'm glad you put that bastard in traction. Self righteous twit. No, you're here because I have a new assignment for you."
Thank you, God. I still have work! I nearly relaxed. Which, considering my current state, would've sent me right to the floor. But Pete had started cracking his knuckles. In my time with him I'd seen pencil chewing, furniture kicking, file throwing, and a short bout with scented candles. But the knuckle cracking was new. I sat back carefully and waited.
"You've heard of Vayl?" Pete asked.
"Who hasn't?" Even if, as was likely, Vayl's legend had far outpaced his achievements, he still rated maaaaajor respect. The guy was an icon, and not just because he'd become one of the 15 percent, or so, of vampires to gain acceptance among humans. He was also the best assassin our department had ever fronted.
"I'm partnering you with him." Pete's eyes darted away from my face, so I guess I wasn't hiding the What-The-Hell! very well. Long silence during which I tried to make my head stop spinning and Pete cleared his throat a few times.
"Pete, I… when you hired me, you promised I could work alone." My previous job had involved an entire crew, of which, I had been the leader. It had ended badly.