Dalton, Tymber - Brimstone Blues [Brimstone Vampires 2] (Siren Publishing Classic) (10 page)

“Garage. That reminds me, I’ll have to take care of that, too.” She opened the door, and there was Rafe’s Mustang. She walked around it, a red and black Mustang Shelby GT, only a few months old. They’d talked about it at dinner in Yellowstone.

Of course he had all the options.

How appropriate. Of all cars, a Mustang.

She looked around the garage and noticed the toolboxes, large Snap-on professional setups. He was a motor head.

It reminded her of when she was a little girl, the few times her father was home, spending time with him out in the garage. He’d had lots of tools, and the scent of his garage had been similar. Motor oil, solvents, transmission fluid, rubber.

She tenderly laid the jacket and shirt on the passenger seat and popped the hood, smiling as she looked. He’d modified the supercharged 5.4 V8 engine with a high-performance package that added even more horses to the already powerful pony. She was sure he’d most likely modified the rear end and trany, too. Money wouldn’t be an object, neither would voiding his factory warranty. Rafe could well afford to fix whatever he broke. It had a six-speed manual transmission, and she itched to put it through its paces.

Something else she had in common with Rafe. Matthias didn’t care to know how his cars ran fast or well, just that they did. Rafe was obviously a hands-on guy—in more ways than one. Robertson wasn’t into cars, but he’d taken the time to learn enough from her father that he could fill in while Eric was on the race circuit, teaching Taz how to change her own oil and tires. Some of her best memories were of spending time in her father’s garage either watching or helping one or both men work on the stable of classic cars.

Walking to the toolboxes, Taz looked through them, and noticed the empty packages and old parts on the workbench. Rafe had made several of the modifications himself. She studied the car. She was an old-school girl, preferred the original Mustangs to the new generation, but it
was
a sweet ride.

“G
o ahead, Taz. Take it. I want you to have it, baby girl.”

For once, she welcomed the disembodied voice.

“I’ll drive it back.”

“What?” Matthias turned and realized she was already in the garage. He appeared in the doorway.

“I said, I’ll drive it back. I want it. Where’s his keys?”

“Taz, I don’t know if that’s—”

“Matthias.” Her tone was don’t-fuck-with-me firm. “Where are his keys?”

It was easier to give in. “I’ll get them. Let’s load these other things in the trunk.”

* * * *

Matthias handed her the key ring, the one Rafe had in Yellowstone. She sat behind the wheel and adjusted the seat and mirrors. His MP3 player was hooked to the stereo. Closing her eyes she almost heard Rafe’s laughter in her mind. She conjured his scent, but for once she didn’t feel like tears.

Taz felt like driving.

She caressed the steering wheel. Even though she’d never been in this car before, it felt like she’d spent hours driving it. Matthias popped the garage door, and she spied Rafe’s sunglasses on the dash. With trembling hands she slipped them on. Then she took a deep breath and closed her eyes. The car fired off immediately, throbbing around her. As if slipping into a dream, she slung her left arm over the wheel and smoothly shifted to reverse without having to look at the shift pattern. She backed out of the garage and impatiently waited for Matthias to lock the condo and get in the Hummer. The road lay before them, and Taz knew exactly how much pressure she needed on the modified clutch, the exact timing for each shift, as if the car was an extension of her.

Rafe had left enough gas to get them to Perry, by her best guess. With Matthias following, she opened it up on I-75 and turned the MP3 player on.

Last played—Meat Loaf’s
Bat Out of Hell
album. One of her favorites. The volume turned up loud.

The track “Heaven Can Wait” played. She shivered but didn’t change it, let it play out.

She turned it up even louder and pushed the accelerator to the floor. Behind her, Matthias eventually stopped trying to keep up. After a while she tuned everything out including the music, lost in her memories. She didn’t want to forget Rafe. She owed him that much. In fact, if she thought about it hard enough, she could hear him, his voice instead of her own speaking to her in her mind…

* * * *

Taz had filled the gas tank and ordered an appetizer at Ruby Tuesday when Matthias finally caught up with her.

“Darling, do you think you could slow it down just a tad?”

“Why?”

He realized she was serious. “Because you don’t want to get a ticket.”

She glared at him. “Matts, you worry too much. Like I get tickets. When was the last time
I
got a ticket, big guy? That would be…never.”

Matthias started to protest when common sense got the better of him. There was something there, behind the firm barrier she’d erected. He didn’t dare probe to find out what. Hopefully it was just stress. She was upset, but she was dealing.

Let her deal in her own way.

“Taz, promise me you’ll be careful.”

She nodded without looking up from the menu. “Don’t worry, I won’t splatter myself between here and Gainesville, Matts.” There was something odd about her voice, the inflection. The tone.

The waitress arrived with their appetizer, a plate of Thai Phoon shrimp. Matthias swallowed, hard. He admitted he didn’t know much about Taz’s dining habits, but this was too freaky.

It was Rafael’s favorite appetizer.

“Taz—” Then it finally hit him. “What did you call me?”

She was already munching on a shrimp. “Matts, what’s the prob?”

He eyed her carefully. Rafael was the only one who ever called him that. “Are you all right?”

“Great googly, you gonna eat or stare?” Another shrimp down the hatch. Rafael ate the hottest of foods without flinching. Not that these were thermonuclear, but they were on the spicy side.

Matthias felt a chill. Again, that was Rafe. Not his voice or face, but his words, his exact inflection. “Taz—”

“Matthias, are you all right?” Taz stared at him over the table, concerned. “You look like you don’t feel good.”

Something had shifted, released. Even the air felt different. Matthias shook his head and grabbed a shrimp. “I’m okay. Just tired and stressed, I’m sure.”

She bit into another shrimp and immediately spit it out. “Oh, Christ, these things are spicy! I’m sorry, I can’t eat this.”

She’d already munched two without batting an eye.

* * * *

She must have
really
zoned out. That happened from time to time when she drove. Only it usually happened while on the road, highway hypnosis. She never totally zoned out through a gas stop and came back from la-la land in a restaurant. She remembered it, but it was like she sleepwalked through it. Matthias had a weird look on his face and…

“Matthias, are you all right? You don’t look like you feel good.”
Son of a bitch!
These shrimp were fucking
hot
. How had she missed that? She’d ordered that? She never did spicy.

“Oh, Christ, these things are spicy! I’m sorry. I can’t eat this.”

Matthias nodded, still looking…weird. Then again, she honestly didn’t have a lot of experience with him outside of the office. So he boinked her silly and dragged her from Florida to Yellowstone and back—

Okay, that wasn’t fair.
“I’m sorry I’m snarky. I just want to get home.”

He nodded. “You’re all right?”

“Oh yeah, I’m fine. But you look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

* * * *

Her taillights disappeared ahead of him. They’d prearranged their next gas stop and she promised to wait. Matthias called Tim Robertson.

“Tim, can I ask you an odd question?”

“Sure.”

“Does Taz eat spicy food?”

Tim laughed. “My Taz? If we
were
scared of garlic, then she’d be petrified of pepper. The girl won’t touch a pepper mill if you paid her. I always had to make chili in batches, hers before I added spices, then the rest. She likes horseradish though, and garlic. Onions, sweet peppers. Fresh wasabi and ginger. Spicy food? She won’t touch it. Never has. I could get her to happily eat liver, but she’ll run from a peppercorn steak. Why?”

“Oh, nothing. We’re about to make a dinner stop and I realized there are things I don’t know.” But he’d seen her down two of the shrimp—

J
ust like Rafe.

—without batting an eye.

“Well, that’s good. Where?”

“Ruby Tuesday.” Matthias knew he wouldn’t like going down this path but couldn’t stop himself.

“Oh, she loves the cheddar fries. Can’t get enough.”

“What about the Thai Phoon shrimp?”

That was definitely a laugh. Or a snort. “Not a chance, not with the sauce they use. Just the smell makes her eyes water. I don’t find them particularly spicy, but to her they might as well be Scotch bonnet peppers.”

“Okay, thanks.” Matthias ended the call, replaying the meal in his mind. He didn’t think the shrimp were overly spicy, but compared to him, Rafe had a cast-iron stomach. “Too hot” wasn’t in Rafe’s vocabulary, whether it described food, women, or cars.

If he thought about it too long, it might drive him nuts. He decided to file it away for future reference.

* * * *

Taz waited for Matthias at the prearranged exit. He fueled up the Hummer, and she hugged him.

“Can we stop for the night?” she asked. “I know we’re only a couple hours away, but I’m wiped.”

“Absolutely.”

They checked into the best-looking of the three hotels at that exit. Matthias thought Taz would want to go to bed, but after he exited the bathroom, he found her getting dressed. The room seemed filled with a strange energy.

“Let’s go,” she said. “That bar has karaoke.” She threw his shirt at him.

“I didn’t know you like to do that,” he said. Then he realized there were a lot of things he didn’t know about her. Maybe she did enjoy it.

She started out the door for the bar across the parking lot.

“Taz, wait.” He caught up with her, buttoning his shirt. “Shouldn’t we get some rest?”

“Oh, quit being so boring, Matts,” she said, walking in without him.

“‘Matts?’”

He followed her and found she’d already staked out a table close to the stage. There were maybe two dozen patrons in the bar. She grabbed a playbook and squealed. “Oh! This one!” Before Matthias could stop her, she was over by the DJ, filling out a slip.

“You gonna sing with me?” she asked upon her return.

“Why?”

“It’s a duet. I’ll need backup.”

“You’ve heard me sing, Taz. I’m not—”

“Great!” She flagged down a waitress and ordered a drink. “You getting anything, Matts?”

He shook his head. This was beyond strange. “Taz, are you feeling all right?”

She grinned and nodded. “You betcha’!” All the while rubbing the ring.