Foxx slowly looked at him, a sweet smile on his face now. “Do you know how long it would take to swim to the dock from here? No? Well, you’re about to.”
Harlow grimaced. “Shutting up.”
“Damn right you are,” Foxx grumbled as he looked away with a hmph.
By the time the dock they were looking for came into sight, two very silent hours had passed. Not so silent was the ever increasing in volume howls. Which had become a constant background noise.
Harlow cut the engine. Letting the boat’s momentum glide them right up to the wooden dock, he grabbed on to the nearest post to stop them completely, before tying the boat to that same post.
Pulling out the small device that was tracking their exact GPS coordinates, Harlow announced, “We will need to walk from here.”
Foxx grunted in response, and hopped out of the boat onto the dock. Standing there, the vampire unholstered one of his guns and began to eye him as he waited. The way he was currently looking at him… Well…Harlow was ninety-nine percent sure that Foxx had moved past the worried stage, right into the ‘I’m plotting to murder you’ stage about five hours ago.
And he had no regrets, because him pushing and annoying the fuck out of the vampire had knocked Foxx out of the odd mood he’d been in when they’d first started their journey. Harlow would take a murderous Foxx over a distracted one any day. Especially when they were about to face bloodthirsty, overpowered mutts from hell.
As he had no interest in taking a dip, Harlow wisely remained silent while he carefully got out of the boat. That said, no longer on water, he smiled and pulled out one of his own gun as he said, “You know about Iggy?—”
“Harlow, I swear to the Goddess, you say one more word about Iggy, dating, or really about anything that is NOT related to this case, and I WILL feed you to an alligator.”
“You’d miss me.”
“I’d get over it.”
Harlow chuckled and took the lead as they stepped off the wooden path and into the muck. On finding the ground soft, and completely submerged in some places, he now had one regret…not bringing rain boots—oh well…too late now.
“Well—”
“Harlow!”
“I’m just trying to have a nice conversation, brat. Since when do you hate talking?”
“Nice conversation, my ass. You are just trying to irritate me!”
Harlow hummed. “That doesn’t sound right.”
“What do youmeanit doesn’t sound right?!”
“I mean, irritating people is your job, not mine.”
“Harlow Blackmore, you are full of shit. You can claim all you want that you hate talking, that you hate people, but the truth is, you love to irritate. You love to pick, and poke, and stab at people until they fucking snap!”
Harlow chuckled. “Are you about to snap, kitten? Going to scratch me with your claws?”
Foxx hissed, and there was a large snapping sound. On instinct, Harlow ducked… Just in time…to avoid a large branch to the back of his head.
“Did you just throw a stick at me?”
“I did no such thing. You must be going senile, old man. Besides…” Foxx said, before clarifying in a sickly sweet voice, “It was a branch, not a stick.”
“Brat.”
“Senile old man.”
“My kitten’s fur is in a real fluff today, huh?”
“I AM NOT A KITTEN!”
“But you are mine.”
