“I won’t be walking at all. Trust me, I can move fast when I need to. But first things first. Jerry, when we get down there, I want you to find a position near that building’s exit. If anyone other than Salvio tries to leave, you take them out.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Lana, you’re with me. We’re going to pay our fat friend Poncio a visit.”
Chapter Fourteen
LANA FOLLOWED IN Vincent’s wake, trying not to make as much noise as a herd of cows rushing down the hillside. Vincent and Jerry both moved like ghosts. She wouldn’t have known they were there if she hadn’t been with them. Even then, she was pretty sure they were holding back, going slowly in order to avoid leaving her in their dust. Not that they were stirring up any. Bastards.
She winced as yet another piece of scrub crackled under her foot, breathing a sigh of relief when they finally hit the mostly rock and dirt base of the hill. This part wasn’t all that different from their climb out of Camarillo’s compound, except that in this case, she didn’t dare risk even the smallest light. Everything was completely dark on Poncio’s estate. There were no lights along the pathway or the gate Poncio had used, and no security system had been triggered in response to his walk across the yard, or to their movements along the edges. A very dim light had come on upstairs in the sprawling two-story adobe that was the main residence, but it was little more than an outline of a shuttered window.
If not for the bright moonlight, Lana would have been nearly blind. But even with it, she barely managed to avoid tripping over Vincent. He was crouched down, waiting for her as Jerry sprinted along the edge of the property, using the uneven hillside as cover as he made his way close to the barn where they thought Salvio would be found, and maybe a prisoner or two.
Lana rested a light hand on Vincent’s shoulder to let him know she was there—although, in retrospect, he probably didn’t need the warning—then crouched next to him. She quickly lost sight of Jerry in the shadows, but Vincent seemed to follow his progress easily enough. Lana kept her eyes on the rest of the property, scanning from left to right.
“It’s too quiet,” she whispered. “Where are the animals? The coyotes?”
“They’re smart enough to know there’s a predator around tonight who’s much tougher than they are,” he murmured.
Lana frowned, then caught the flash of white that was Vincent’s grin. “You mean . . . you? Huh.” She’d never thought of vampires as predators, but, of course, they were. “I’m glad you’re on my side, then.”
“Why, Lana. I’m touched.”
She scowled. “You’re touched all right. So what’s next?”
“Next, you and I go find Señor Poncio and remind him that there are creatures afoot tonight who are far more dangerous than he is, too.”
“It’s a big house. How will you know where he is?”
“If his heart is beating, I’ll find him. But we’ll have to get through the door first. I’m a vampire. I can’t enter without an invitation.”
“That story’s true?”
“It is. And it might be why Poncio’s guard is human. He protects himself from his own vampire enforcer by never inviting him inside the house.”
“I’m not a vampire,” she said thoughtfully.
“No, you’re not, but I’m not sending you into that house alone.”
“If I got inside, could I invite you in once I was there?”
“You can’t sneak in and then invite me. You’d have to be invited first, and even then you’d have to get Poncio or the guard to invite your friends, at least indirectly.”
“If I knock, the guard will probably be the one who answers.”
“Probably.”
“So all I need to do is get invited inside, and then finagle an invitation for my friend. No problem.”
VINCENT WATCHED as Lana stood and began stripping off her gear, her jacket first, and then, with a deep sigh, her Sig, along with the shoulder holster. The jacket she folded and left on the ground, with the weapon on top of it. She touched the gun lightly and said, “Take good care of this, okay? It’s my favorite.”
“The gun?” he asked, amused that she had a favorite weapon.
“Yes,” she said as if it was the most natural thing in the world. She then proceeded to pull her long-sleeved T-shirt out of her pants and yanked it off over her head, leaving her in nothing but a black sports bra and the stretchy white tank top that she’d slept in.
Vincent scowled. He didn’t like where this was going. “Lana, what . . .” His unhappiness grew when she turned her back to him, pulled off the tank top, and began undoing the hooks on the bra’s front opening.
“What the fuck?” he demanded. He hadn’t been all that sold on letting her go in there alone in the first place, and this little striptease of hers wasn’t making him feel any better about it.