Bloody Bones

Cover Bloody Bones
Genres: Fiction
At home with the gun in the special holster I’d added to the headboard of the bed, the safety would have been off. But I’d look pretty silly if I accidentally shot myself during the night—day—trying to protect myself from werewolves.
    The Firestar I put under the couch cushion, safety on. Normally it would have been in my luggage, but I was feeling just a little insecure.
    The knives were in the luggage. Things weren’t quite dangerous enough to wear the wrist sheaths to bed. Besides, they
... weren’t very comfortable, not to sleep in, anyway.
    I had just settled down for a long day’s sleep when I realized I hadn’t called Special Agent Bradford. Damn. I threw the blanket back and padded to the telephone in nothing but a t-shirt and undies. Yes, the Browning came with me. Doesn’t do you a damn bit of good to have a weapon if it isn’t with you.
    I dialed the number and got no answer.
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