“I’m going after Carolyn with you.”
“I know.”
“You might be glad I’m there before the end.”
“I’m glad now.”
“No, you’re not. You’d like to tuck me away in a corner somewhere until you’re ready to go to bed every morning, then pull me out, drive me a little crazy with your pointless flirting, then put me back in the corner.”
They reached the top of the hill and Lana stomped her feet a little to get the dirt and tangled bits of brush off her boots. She started down the short incline toward the SUV, but Vincent snagged her arm, pulling her to a stop.
“I drive you crazy?” he asked, his voice deep and slow and sexy.
Lana looked up at him, not surprised that the crazy comment was the one he’d latched on to. She glanced down the hill, where Jerry and Salvio were just starting to climb, and said softly, “You know you do, Vincent. That’s why you do it. You like to play.”
“I like to do other things, too, querida.”
“Big talk,” she said. Then, wondering what game she was playing and if she’d suddenly lost her mind, she pulled her arm out of Vincent’s grip and continued down to where the SUV waited.
She heard the locks pop open as she rounded the vehicle to the cargo hatch and glanced back to nod her thanks to Vincent who was still standing at the top of the hill, watching her.
Let him watch. She had things to do. Opening the cargo hatch, she pulled over her duffel and emptied her pockets, keeping the Sig and her knives. She made a mental note to resupply her first-aid kit yet again, then closed the hatch and opened the back passenger door.
“Sit up front,” Vincent ordered. “I’m driving. Jerry and Salvio will sit in the back”
Lana opened her mouth to protest, but in the end, she simply shrugged and slid into the front seat instead.
VINCENT GLANCED over at Lana as they made their way back to the main highway. It was a bumpy ride, but she hung on to the bar above the door and bounced along with the rest of them. She hadn’t said a word since they’d returned to the Suburban, and he couldn’t figure out if she was pissed or disappointed. This was hardly typical for him. He was quite good with women, good at pleasing them, and at figuring out what they wanted from him. He’d been told by many women of his acquaintance that he listened to them. But then, most of his relationships with women were of short duration and involved blood and sex. Even his relationship with Marisol, whom he’d known for more than a decade, was based on sex. They’d been lovers who discovered a shared love of classical guitar. But sex and blood were still at the heart of it. Usually, when he visited, he gave her a little taste of his blood. Just enough to prolong her youth and, more importantly to Marisol, her looks. It wouldn’t keep her young forever, wouldn’t make her immortal or tie her life to Vincent’s, but she’d always look younger than her years. He didn’t doubt that there was real affection there, but it wasn’t exactly a friendship.
Maybe it wasn’t possible for a man to be friends with a woman. Of course, he didn’t want to be friends with Lana. She thought he was playing with her. And maybe he was, a little. He liked to tease, liked to flirt. But if she thought that was all he was about, she had a hard lesson coming.
He smirked to himself at the thought of exactly how hard that lesson would be.
“Master?” Jerry called from the backseat.
“Yeah, Jerry.”
“Do you still plan to deal with Carolyn this evening?”
“Absolutely. That’s why we’re meeting my lieutenant, Michael, at the airport. He’s brought some more fighters, as well as daylight guards just in case we need them. Do either of you know the name of Carolyn’s boss?” He couldn’t bring himself to refer to the human who’d enslaved her—with Enrique’s help—as her master.
“He’s not her boss,” Salvio mumbled. “He’s her master.”
“No, he’s not,” Vincent said sharply. “Your first lesson, Salvio. No human can master a vampire. The three of you were betrayed by Enrique when he enslaved you to humans, but as your Sire, he was also your master.”
“It doesn’t matter what you call it,” Salvio retorted, his voice stronger and angrier. “I was a dog and Poncio held the leash.”
“And now he’s dead,” Vincent said mildly. The dynamics of vampire society demanded that Salvio know his place in the power structure right up front. Anything else would get him killed very quickly, either by someone—like Michael—who took offense on Vincent’s behalf, or by Vincent himself if he got angry enough. So, he made sure that his next words bore the lash of his power—not enough to harm, but enough to make certain Salvio understood. “But understand that I am not that worm Poncio, not even close. I do not enslave those sworn to me. They, and you, have a choice in how you live your life. If you want to sell books, go to school, be a farmer—although that last might be difficult at night—you are free to do so. If you want to be a fighter, you will join the ranks of my guards and fight only for me. But you will respect me and you will honor the bond between us. If you fail, or if you betray me, the punishment will be far worse than anything Poncio could come up with.”
Salvio was silent for a long time, then he said, “Forgive me, Master.”
Vincent rolled his eyes. The Fates save him from baby vampires. It was bad enough that he had Lana sending out mixed signals, now he had to contend with Salvio who didn’t know the difference between a human who treated him like a slave and a true vampire master. And speaking of Lana, he caught her watching him and gave her look that said what the hell do you want from me?
And she gave him a silent look right back, one that replied look who’s talking.
Vincent wanted to growl, but instead, he unclenched his jaw enough to remind the two newbies in the backseat of his previous question. “Carolyn’s boss’s name?”
“Albert Serrana,” Salvio said, sounding somewhat sulky. “He has an estate northwest of Pénjamo, perhaps eighty kilometers—fifty miles—and, yes, many more guards than my . . . than Poncio had.”