Page 70 of License to Kill

“I’ll manage just fine in here.”

“Suit yourself.”

Tacos made everything better, and while even the dead could probably hear me munching away in the pantry, I didn’t care. If anyone thought I was going to come out with so many people in the house, they were nuts.

I stopped counting how many times the doorbell rang after ten. Maybe the ruckus in the living room, ranging from yelps, growls, the occasional curse, and the crack of something breaking, kept people from noticing my love affair with hard shell tacos.

At least I didn’t have to emerge from my impromptu den to replenish my taco supply. All I needed to do was open the pantry door and slide the empty paper plate onto the floor. In less than five minutes, Mason offered me a new plate filled with tacos, which I claimed to resume my feeding frenzy. At the rate I devoured them, there’d be a beef shortage in Baltimore, but I didn’t care. Tacos made everything better.

“Hey, Mason. Have you seen Karma?” Jake asked, so close to my hiding place I bared my teeth and pulled my plate a little closer.

“She’s still in the house. I think she wants to eat her tacos in peace.”

“She’s had something for dinner?”

“I underestimated her appetite. I’m almost out of tacos. Take a plate before you starve to death. If the others want something to eat, they’ll just have to go home.”

“I’m not going to starve to death.”

“Just eat, please.”

Jake sighed. “I need to check on Karma.”

“She’s having her dinner. She doesn’t need us wolves hovering and threatening her food. Let the poor woman eat in peace.”

Jake growled.

“She’s still in the house, I promise. When I last saw her, she was about ready to jump out of her skin because there were so many people in her space. She’s fine. She found herself a nice little place to hide. I’m sure she’ll come out when the pack leaves.”

The doorbell rang again.

“If the pack ever leaves,” Mason muttered. “I swear, everyone’s worse than gossiping hens. Don’t y’all have something better to do than make nuisances of yourselves and invade other people’s homes?”

“No,” a chorus of voices, all male, replied.

“Where’s Karma?” Jake growled.

I picked up my next victim and munched on it. The kitchen fell quiet except for my crunching.

“She’s in the pantry, isn’t she?” I couldn’t tell whether he was trying not to laugh or if disbelief altered his voice. Either way, he sounded startled.

“I keep putting food in there, and several minutes later, an empty plate appears on the floor, so I’m assuming someone is in there. Since all of the wolves are accounted for, I’m assuming I’ve been feeding your vixen.” Mason chuckled, and plastic crumpled, followed by the distinctive sound of lettuce ripping. “Here, take these. Eat. I’ll finish feeding your mate. When she’s ready to come out, she’ll come out. If everyone really wants to see her, come back in pairs so she’s not overwhelmed.”

Jake sighed. “Damn it, Mason.”

Chomping on my tacos as loudly as possible counted as an asshole move, and to drive home the point I was right under his nose, I smacked my lips together.

“Now you’re just being a bitch, Karma.”

I opened the door and set my empty plate on the floor. “I think I’ve had enough for now.”

“For now?” Mason laughed. “You had twenty tacos.”

“They were good.”

“That’s what I do. I make good tacos to keep the ravenous hordes happy. But since most of this ravenous horde wasn’t invited, they don’t get any. There, Jake. She’s had her fill, so you can eat the rest.”

Jake peeked into the pantry, frowned, and crouched down to peer into my section. “You really had twenty tacos?”