Free Every Which Way But Dead by Kim Harrison Page A

“She’s gonna love it,” he said. “You watch.”
    Pushing it at the girl behind the counter, I glanced behind me at the tittering couple. They were living vamps, well-dressed and unable to go thirty seconds without touching each other. Knowing I was watching, the woman straightened the collar of his leather jacket to show off his lightly scarred neck. The thought of Nick brought a smile to me, the first time in weeks.
    As the girl recalculated my total, I dug in my bag for my checkbook. It was nice having money. Real nice.
    â€œRache,” Jenks questioned, “can you put a bag of M&M’s in there, too?” His wings sent a cold draft against my neck as he set them vibrating to generate some body heat. It wasn’t as if he could wear a coat—not with those wings of his—and anything heavy was too limiting.
    I snatched up a bag of overpriced candy whose hand-lettered cardboard sign said the sale would go to help rebuild the fire-damaged city shelters. I already had my total, but she could add it on. And if the vamps behind me had a problem with that, they could curl up and die twice. It was for orphans, for God’s sake.
    The girl reached for the candy and beeped it, giving me a snotty look. The register chirped to give me the new total, and as they all waited, I flipped to the check register. Freezing, I blinked. It had been balanced with neat tidy numbers. I hadn’t bothered to keep a running total as I knew there was tons of money in it, but someone had. Then I brought it closer, staring. “That’s it?” I exclaimed. “That’s all I have left?”
    Jenks cleared his throat. “Surprise,” he said weakly. “It was just laying there in your desk, and I thought I’d balance it for you.” He hesitated. “Sorry.”
    â€œIt’s almost gone!” I stammered, my face probably as red as my hair. The eyes of the register girl were suddenly wary.
    Embarrassed, I finished writing out the check. She took it, calling her supervisor to run it through their system to make sure it was good. Behind me, the vamp couple started in with a snarky commentary. Ignoring them, I flipped through the check register to see where it went.
    Almost two grand for my new desk and bedroom set, four more for insulating the church, and $3,500 for a garage for my new car; I wasn’t about to let it sit out in the snow. Then there was the insurance and gas. A big chunk went to Ivy for my back rent. Another chunk went to my night in the emergency room for my broken arm as I hadn’t had insurance at the time. A third chunk to get insurance. And the rest…I swallowed hard. There was money still in there, but I had enjoyed myself down from twenty thousand to high four figures in only three months.
    â€œUm, Rache?” Jenks said. “I was going to ask you later, but I know this accounting guy. You want me to have him set up an IRA for you? I was looking at your finances, and you might need a shelter this year, seeing as you haven’t been taking anything out for taxes.”
    â€œA tax shelter?” I felt sick. “There’s nothing left to put into it.” Taking my bags from the girl, I headed for the door. “And what are you doing looking at my finances?”
    â€œI’m living in your desk,” he said wryly. “It’s kind of all out there?”
    I sighed. My desk. My beautiful solid-oak desk with nooks and crannies and a secret cubby at the bottom of the left-hand drawer. My desk that I had used for only three weeks before Jenks and his brood moved into it. My desk, which was now so thickly covered in potted plants that it looked like a prop for a horror movie about killer plants taking over the world. But it was either that or have them set up housekeeping in the kitchen cupboards. No. Not my kitchen. Having them stage daily mock battles among the hanging pots and utensils was bad enough.
    Distracted, I