Beach Blanket Bloodbath (Amanda Feral Book 4) Read Online Free PDF Page A

from the crowd, Wendy in
the lead—windmill-arming as she ran, purse hurdling before her like a medieval
weapon—I caught sight of the thief blazing up the hill, the package
tucked under one arm like a football, her other hand holding that damn floppy
sun hat in place.
    “That’s her!” I shouted and from beside
my head saw the barrel of Abuelita’s gun level and ducked. Not a second later
the concussion flipped my hair and my eardrum thudded as though it’d been hit
by a hammer. I shot the woman a look that was also a promise to cut her when I
got the chance.
    Her lip curled away from her teeth in a
grin that said she was looking for a reason to take me out.
    “Car!” Wendy cried and threw herself in
front of a gray sub-compact puttering along in their wake, sliding across the
hood as though there were a crate of Twix on the other side—don’t let me
get started on Wendy’s Twix addiction (unless you enjoy scat chat, in which
case, I charge hourly for that).
    Before I could detect her exact intent,
Wendy had wrangled the driver out of the front seat, tossed him onto the
concrete and slipped behind the wheel into the still rolling car. With her
frenzied expression, I didn’t have to think twice before diving for the
passenger door, Abuelita wasn't far behind but neither of us was quick enough
to get our doors closed before Wendy tore off in the direction of Paula
Prentiss.
    “Jesus,” she snapped in my direction.
“Could you be any slower?”
    Up ahead, the zombie dressed as a zombie
leapt onto a motorcycle and ripped off down the street, leaving a puff of smoke
and two incredibly pissed off cloud dealers in her wake.
    Never the best driver in the calmest of
circumstances, Wendy bounced the little car over curbs, side-swiped mirrors
clean off of parked cars and blistered the concrete running lights, barely
escaping not one, but seven t-bones.
    Meanwhile, I quickly checked my texts to
find:

 
    Gil
    Managed
a trio of invites for the Napa Valley Vein Train. I know blood's not your
thing, but there'll be celebrities there and I know they very much are.

 
    Me
    You
make me sound like some kind of starfucker.

 
    I held the phone up to Wendy.
“Gil wants us to—”
    “I'm going to stop you right there,” she
said, white-knuckling the wheel. “If I'm not going to go with you to your
little book thing then I'm certainly not gearing my calendar around Gil's
shit.”

 
    Me
    Wendy's
being a cooch. Let's beat her over the head, shove her in burlap (she's
allergic) and drop her in the Sound.

 
    Gil
    Perfect.
I'll bring a few bottles. My fave Jami Gertz varietal and some Grey Goose for
you. We'll watch her sink in style.

 
    I glanced up, just as Wendy drove the car
over the divider into the eastbound lane, my arm slamming into the door roughly
as she swerved to avoid a head-on collision with a truck. I scrambled for the
seatbelt, but it was too late, a sharp right planted me firmly against Wendy's
hip, the stick shift digging into my thigh brutally.
    "Dammit!"
    "Not a word, Amanda!" Wendy was
hunched over the steering wheel, teeth grinding and eyes homicidal.
    To her credit, they were making endways
in the pursuit. The motorcycle weaved back and forth between cars only a block
away and slipped out of view as it took a hard right at the Space Needle and
headed toward the port.
    "Hurry, Missus! Rapido!” Abuelita
belched from the back seat, still holding that damn gun.
    Which reminded me. The bitch had nearly
blown my hearing out and was thus a danger to my well-being. I spun around and
before she could protect it, snatched the Glock 9mm from her hand. "I'll
be damned if you pull that shit again!" And crammed it in my purse to
avoid her clawing hands.
    “Missus!” the woman whined.
    “Abuelita!” Wendy shouted. “Leave it.
We've got more pressing matters.”
    The thief made a turn toward the cruise
port and though they were right on her tail, when Wendy slammed on the brakes
to give chase on foot the