Broken Heart 05 Over My Dead Body Read Online Free PDF Page B

knows where I might be right now if she was alive. Damn sure not in the Nevada desert sweating my ass off.
    Tonight, we begin the last of our training program. I don’t know what else we can be taught—we’ve already learned hand-to-hand combat, weaponry, first aid, vehicular control (a.k.a. stunt driving), and survival techniques. You could drop us anywhere in the world and we’d know how to kick ass, which weed to rub in a wound and which one to cook, and how to repurpose a Volvo. “Repurpose” is the new word for “steal.” Hah.
    Fuck it. If getting marked like a stray dog, erasing my existence from the data banks of the world, and learning weird shit means we can take out the terrorizing bastards no one else can touch, then I’m all in. Shayla would hate that I joined the army and that I volunteered for this program. But I think she would also be proud of me. She said I was her hero.
    I’m damn well trying to be.

Chapter 5
    We sped along the empty road right through town. I didn’t see a single person on the sidewalks or streets. Most folks were either in their homes or hanging out at the Consortium compound where the library and school were located.
    The Old Sass Café was about the only place that got any regular business, and even it was empty of customers. After Ralph married Libby, he quit as the short-order cook and manager. He decided that raising a were-dragon might require more than the usual parenting skills. He was currently training as a dragon handler.
    Phoebe Tate, who used to be the café’s only waitress, had taken over as cook and manager. Marybeth was the new waitress. She was a Turn-blood, too—the daughter of Linda Beauchamp Michaels. Lorcan was her Master. He actually Turned Marybeth on purpose, at the behest of Linda. Look, it’s a long story, okay? The point is that the Old Sass Café was under new management and the only viable business—other than mine—still operating on Main Street. The hope was that Broken Heart would become a real town again, populated by supernatural beings. I heard that there were a few paranormal towns in Europe, but none in the United States. ’Cept for us. And we weren’t much to fuss about.
    My arms were happily clenching Brady’s muscled waist, my cheek pressed against his back. I heard his heart rate increase as he kicked up the speed another notch. He was enjoying the adrenaline spike, and so was I.
    Heat slapped at us, punishing us for finding any sort of breeze in the sullen night air. I closed my eyes and pretended like I could breathe in the faint scents of honeysuckle and fresh-cut grass. The only thing missing was a big dose of sunshine. I loved to feel the sun warm my face. It’s true. I liked baking my skin. When I was a teenager, I’d put on my bikini and slather on the baby oil. I didn’t care about the sweat or the heat or the bugs, so long as I got to bask in the sun’s rays.
    Trading off the ability to tan, to breathe, and to eat probably wasn’t much to give up for all that vamp mojo. Getting Turned was better than getting dead—of course it was. I just missed being a human. I wondered how long it would take to feel like a total vampire—or if I ever would.
    Too soon, the ride was over. Brady took the bike over the field and stopped a few feet away from the damaged post. I hugged his waist a smidge longer than necessary. He held Spock, and I scrambled off. I removed the helmet, the one Brady had insisted on, and left it on the bike. Damian, Doc Michaels, and a few vamps from the build team stood around the post.
    Doc was studying a component, flipping the piece over and over. Damian squatted next to the post and studied the side. He frowned as his fingers traveled from the top to the bottom.
    “Hey, y’all,” I said. “What’s going on?”
    “Sabotage,” said Doc. He handed me the fragment. Whoa. The electronic parts were fried.
    Damian shot Doc a look of frustration; then he stood up and faced me. “Maybe you have