“No worries on that front, Mikey. If I get anywhere near Mexico City, you’ll definitely be there. I’ll need you with me.”
Michael nodded, still unhappy. “What if something happens here, like at the club the other night? What do I tell the others?”
“You could have handled the club without me,” Vincent said offhandedly and strode around to the driver’s side of the SUV. “As long as you’re here, the others will assume I am, too. But if anyone gets too curious, give me a call, and I’ll handle it. I’m taking the sat phone as well as my cell.”
He slipped into the driver’s seat. “Don’t look so sad, Mikey. I’ll bring you a present.”
Michael raised his hands in a double fuck you salute.
Vincent laughed as he closed his door and turned the key, then lowered the window and waved as he drove out of the garage.
LANA LEFT THE hotel without checking out. She was registered for one more night and could have saved money by checking out early, but decided against it. In her business, it never hurt to leave people wondering exactly where you were. By paying for the extra night with an automatic checkout, no one would know she’d already departed for parts unknown. At least not right away. She’d put out the “Do Not Disturb” sign for extra insurance, but that wouldn’t fool a determined investigator like her dad or Dave Harrington. She didn’t think they’d gotten this far yet, but she preferred to assume the worst. It was the best way to be prepared when the shit finally hit the fan, and it always did eventually.
She went down the back stairs, avoiding the lobby. Her Yukon was parked at the very end of the parking lot. She unlocked it, stashed her duffel in the back, and was standing in the open hatchway scrolling through her contact list for Vincent’s number, when a black Suburban rolled up behind her and stopped.
Tossing the phone aside, she pulled out her Sig and turned in a single movement. The black-tinted window closest to her slid down to reveal Vincent behind the wheel, grinning like an idiot. A particularly handsome idiot, but one nonetheless.
“You gonna shoot me before we even get started?”
She gave him a cool look. “Don’t tempt me,” she said, re-holstering the Sig. “I thought I was picking you up.”
“I don’t believe we discussed it,” he said cheerfully. “But since I’m already here, climb in.”
“I think we should take my vehicle. It’s less conspicuous.”
“Where we’re going, conspicuous is good. It makes you less of a target.”
“That doesn’t make any sense.”
“It does in Mexico, querida. Mine’s bulletproof. How about yours?”
Lana scowled, but she had to concede that one to him. “Fine,” she agreed. “But we’ll switch off driving.”
Vincent snorted dismissively. “I don’t think so.”
“We’ve got a thousand miles to travel. You drive at night, I’ll drive during the day. We’ll get there faster.”
“We’ll travel at night and stop to sleep during the day like civilized people.”
“Civilized people sleep at night. And what if there’s no place to stay when the sun comes up?”
“There will be.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I programmed the damn route, and I’m driving,” Vincent growled, finally losing his cool.
Lana gave him a smug look, permitting herself a tiny smile of satisfaction. “Fine,” she said carelessly, as if the whole issue had never mattered. “Unlock the back.”
“It’s unlocked,” he snapped.
She didn’t say anything, but her smile widened as she turned and grabbed her duffel, then walked over and threw it into the Suburban’s cargo space. Going back to her Yukon, she gathered the rest of her gear—the backpack with her laptop, portfolio, and identification papers, plus her cooler which she’d filled with ice and Coke from the vending machine, along with some travel food. She frowned, thinking that the vampire probably wouldn’t be sharing her candy bars and chips, then wondered exactly what he would be eating. Not her, that’s for sure.
She dumped everything in Vincent’s back seat, then climbed into the passenger side of the Suburban, sinking down into a seat that was far more luxurious than the one in her Yukon. Maybe it was a good thing that they were taking Vincent’s SUV, after all. Although she didn’t think it said much for their future working relationship that they couldn’t even get out of the parking lot without an argument.
“I’m not sure this is going to work,” she said as Vincent made a tire-screeching turn south onto Route 15, which would take them almost all the way to their destination
“What’s that?” he asked absently, cutting around and in front of the other cars, as if they were on the Daytona speedway instead of a public highway.