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  • Home > Mari Mancusi > Blood Coven Series > Bad Blood (Page 28)     
  • Bad Blood(Blood Coven Vampire,book 4)(28) by Mari Mancusi
  • “At three A.M.?” I repeated. “What about now?”

    She shrugs. “Oh. Well, I can’t really remember. I think I’m down a bit. But I’m going to make it all back tonight. The sheik got me into this top-secret highrollers poker game. Just need a few hours’ sleep.” She attempts to yank the covers off me and wrap them around herself.

    I tighten my grip on the blanket. “I’m not so sure you should sleep in here,” I tell her. “After all, Heather might come back from work and want her bed back.”

    Rayne huffs and sits back up. “She’s working?” she exclaims. “Now? What is she, some kind of hooker?”

    “You know, lots of people are stuck working the graveyard shift,” I remind her, feeling the need to defend the stepmother who was nice enough to give up her own bed when I needed it. “Especially in a place like Vegas where creatures of the night—like you, evidently—crawl the streets until the sun starts to rise.”

    “Oh my God. I bet she’s a stripper,” Rayne concludes, completely ignoring my rational, sensible explanation. “That’s got to be it. HWB is a tawdry, cheap Vegas stripper. How awesome is that?”

    “I really doubt she’s a stripper, Rayne.”

    My sister shoots me a suspicious glare. “Why are you suddenly all rah-rah Stepmom?”

    I shrug. “I don’t know. She’s actually pretty nice. She bought us all this Chinese food and—”

    “Oh please.” Rayne rolls her eyes. “Sun, once again you prove to be the most naïve girl on the planet. Chinese food? Don’t you remember what this woman did? She stole our mother’s husband—our father—right out from under us and dragged him out West, never to be heard from again. She deserves nothing short of our complete and utter contempt that should not be diluted by freaking Chinese food.”

    I shrug uncomfortably. I so don’t feel like getting in an argument this early in the morning, but at the same time, Rayne’s refusal to see this situation as anything other than black and white is really starting to get on my nerves. Sure, I’m still not pleased about what Heather and my father did years ago, but as she reminded me last night, we don’t know the whole story. And until we do, we might not want to judge her too harshly.

    “I bet she’s out there right now, taking off her clothes for dirty old men so they’ll stuff dollars in her G-string,” Rayne continues, undaunted. I groan.

    “You know what, think what you will,” I tell her, giving up the blanket and crawling out of bed, realizing there’s no sleep left for me, at least here. “You always do.”

    “What’s that supposed to mean?”

    “Are you even going to help me at all during this trip?” I demand. “I can’t do this without you, you know.”

    “Help you what?” Rayne asks. “Oh. The Jane thing. Sure. I told you I will.”

    She pulls the covers over her head.

    I pull them off. “When?”

    “As soon as I get some sleep. Jeez.” She yanks the blanket back and snuggles up in a fetal position. “You know, this bed smells funny. Did you even change the sheets?”

    I can’t take it anymore. I storm out of the room and slam the door behind me. How we ever lasted nine months sharing a womb I’ll never know. She’s so selfish. So pigheaded. So set in her ways and determined to find the worst in everyone. Mom should have named her Eeyore. Or simply “Bitch.”

    I head into the living room on my way to the kitchen. There, I find Stormy awake and sitting at the family computer, legs pulled up and under her and typing furiously on the keyboard. She stops when she hears me enter the room and throws me a cautious smile.

    “Oh phew, I thought for a moment you were the evil twin returning,” she says. Evidently my sister’s made an impression on the entire household, even though she’s only spent about five minutes here in total.

    “No, I’m the good twin,” I assure her. “The evil one’s lying asleep in your mom’s bed.”

    “Thank God.” Stormy turns back to her computer.

    “You know, Rayne’s not really evil,” I force myself to explain, even though I’m not feeling particularly generous toward my sister at the moment. “She just gets grumpy, that’s all. Especially when she’s tired.”

    Stormy nods, knowingly. “So does Crystal,” she says. “I know the deal. It’s too bad they don’t come with warning lights or something. Let us know when it’s unsafe to approach.”

    I laugh, taking a seat on the couch. “That would be awesome.” I peek over at the computer screen. “So what are you up to?” I ask. “Playing some earlymorning video games?”

    She shakes her head. “Nah, just hacking into a small casino off the Strip to reprogram their slot machine payouts.”

    I raise my eyebrows. “You’re not serious.”

    “Sure am,” my sister replies, pride in her voice.

    “Trying to get rich quick or something?”

    “Oh no.” She laughs. “It’s not for me. I have everything I need already. But these casinos take advantage of a lot of poor and homeless people who gamble there. They promise them, like, riches and stuff, then just steal away their life savings with machines that are totally rigged.” She frowns at the computer screen. “So I’m just giving the gamblers a little home court advantage for once.”

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