A Good Day for Chardonnay (Sunshine Vicram #2) by Darynda Jones

She speared him with a look of indignant astonishment. It was one of her best looks. “I have tons of friends.”

“You have tons of acquaintances. Huge difference.”

“I can assure you, one of my acquaintances is about to inherit the mantle of Sunshine Vicram’s BFF, and you’re going to have no one except that floozy you’re seeing on the side.”

“Good luck with that.”

“I’ll need the tiara back.”

“I’m not giving the tiara back.” With his arms still crossed, he scooted down in his seat, laid back his head, and closed his eyes. “Or the sash. Wake me in two.”

She didn’t answer. She’d drop it for now, but he was holding something back, and the curiosity incinerating her chest was giving her heartburn.





6


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The muscular purr of a big engine block hummed through the frigid night. Soothed her when she just wanted to sleep. She was warm at last. Safe at last.

“Stay awake, Shine,” he said, his voice deep and rich and youthful. She knew who it belonged to but couldn’t quite place its owner.

Everything inside her hurt. Everything around her spun. And her stomach wanted nothing more than to empty its contents onto the floorboard.

She felt a firm hand wrap around to the back of her skull, lifting her slightly. Her lips parted as the hard plastic of a water bottle pressed against them. Cool water filled her burning mouth. She tried to swallow but it scorched her throat. She ended up choking and spitting it all back up. Her stomach contracted painfully, doubling her over. When she vomited, a metallic taste flooded her mouth. She felt bad but the guy’s hoodie was ruined anyway. It was covered in blood. She just didn’t know whose.

“You okay, boss?”

Sun jerked awake and tried to open her eyes, but a white so bright it blinded her convinced her to keep them shut. At least until she figured out where she was.

She felt a tug on a wayward strand of hair.

After a moment, she opened her eyes just enough to check the clock on her phone. 7:58.

In the morning?

She bolted upright and squinted through the pain. The landscape, while beautiful and similar to parts of New Mexico, was definitely not.

“We aren’t in Kansas anymore,” the man beside her said.

“I thought we were taking two-hour shifts?” She stifled a yawn, then winced at a jolt of pain in her neck.

“We are,” Quincy said. “I just took several in a row. You have some drool.” He pointed to the side of his mouth.

Sun wiped at her mouth and glowered at him. “Why didn’t you wake me? I need to call the prison to give them a heads-up.”

“Anita did that for us.”

Anita Escobar was their administrative assistant who moonlighted as dispatch and, honestly, the woman worked more than Sun did.

“She’s already in?”

“Daylight savings time.” He tapped his watch. “She got to the station an hour ago. Also, you snore.”

Her clock had changed from Mountain to Pacific while she slept. Arizona was one of the few states that didn’t honor daylight savings time. A perk that Sun had prayed for since childhood. She hated spring forward with the fiery passion of a thousand suns.

“Keith Seabright?” she asked, inquiring about their stabbing victim.

“Out of surgery. Critical but stable.”

“Oh, thank goodness. I really don’t want any murders on my watch.”

“But multiple stabbings are okay?”

“The jury’s still out.”

“You know it’ll happen, Sunbeam.”

“Bite your tongue. Levi?”

He shook his head. “Nothing. The guy’s a ghost. And nothing on our assailants, either.”

“True. They won’t find Levi until he wants to be found, but I was really hoping to get a hit on that Tundra. No dead bodies along the interstate?”

“Have you been cleaning out your closet again?”

She grinned just as her stomach growled. Taking his reply as a no, she switched her focus and said one word. “Sustenance.”

“I’m not sure what this town has to offer, but I figured breakfast would be in order. We can’t get into the prison until after the nine o’clock headcount anyway.”

“An actual sit-down breakfast? Hell yes. Or I have a can of tuna in my bag.”

“Oh, yeah.” He thought back. “From that time with the thing and the man.”

“Exactly.”

“Sweet, but I don’t think we’ll need it. Anita found us a café close to the prison.”

“Is there anything that woman can’t do?”

“Not that I know of. Maybe pee standing up. Or hot yoga on account of her vertigo. You can tell me all about that dream you had while we eat.”

Startled, she looked over at him. The dream came back to her in a rush. So vivid and gut-wrenching and surreal. She’d had similar dreams before, but this time it rang truer, as though more a memory than a figment of her brain’s hypervigilant imagination.

There was something about the voice. And the hands. If only she could see the man’s face. Either way, she wasn’t sure she wanted to share just yet. Maybe it was only a dream even though it felt real. Dreams did that. They all felt real at the time. But like all of the flashbacks from that period of her life, it was grainy and distorted and more emotion than substance.