“Oh, yes. And if you thought Enrique deserved to die for the other two, this one will clinch the deal.”
“Christ. Do I wanna know?”
“Probably not, but you need to. Because this one’s taking us to Mexico City, my friend. Enrique has finally crossed the line.”
LANA KEPT HER GAZE low and watched through her eyelashes as Vincent briefed his lieutenant. She could almost mark the points in the conversation by Michael’s growing anger, knew the moment Vincent told him about Carolyn and why they were rescuing her tonight. She couldn’t hear what Michael said, but he cursed loud and long, and had to walk several paces away and back again before facing Vincent. She could see him listening closely, every inch of his muscular body tight with anger.
He was a good-looking guy, big and blond, and, like Vincent, all muscle. Under other circumstances, she might have found him attractive—other circumstances being if she hadn’t met Vincent, who she was quite certain had already ruined her for all other men. At least for the foreseeable future. She’d get over him just like she had everyone else, but he might take a while longer.
Vincent was speaking to Michael intently, one hand on his shoulder, while Michael nodded every once in a while. Vincent was clearly giving his lieutenant orders for tonight’s mission. She wondered what his plans for her were. She’d made it clear she wouldn’t be left behind, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t try.
Vincent slapped Michael’s shoulder with a final word and the two of them broke apart. Michael headed directly for the plane where all sorts of activities were going on. Salvio had disappeared inside the jet almost as soon as they arrived. Jerry had gone inside with him, but had reemerged very soon thereafter. Lana assumed Salvio was getting whatever passed for medical treatment for a vampire. Even with Vincent’s blood, he’d been pretty shot up. He’d improved quite a bit over the last couple of hours, but he still hadn’t been moving all that well.
Michael didn’t board the plane, but headed instead for a pair of vampires who looked like fighters. They were both huge, bigger than either Michael or Vincent, and looked like they belonged in a particularly vicious cage match on cable TV. As Michael started talking to them, they seemed to swell even further, hands fisting, fangs emerging . . .
“Do you fancy my lieutenant, querida?”
She spun around to find Vincent standing right behind her. While the question had been phrased lightly, there was nothing light about the look he was giving her.
She smiled. He was jealous. Cool. But she wasn’t stupid enough to bait the monster. She shook her head. “He’s not my type,” she told him. “I was reading his body language earlier, when you were briefing him. I know you told him about Carolyn.”
He bent his head and nuzzled her cheek, his beard feeling like velvet against her skin. “Not your type?” he repeated, almost predictably ignoring everything else she’d said. “What is your type?”
She rubbed her cheek against his, then pulled back and met his dark gaze. “You,” she said honestly.
His eyes flared with copper-colored heat, and his arm came around her waist, pulling her flush against his body. “Remember that later,” he said, then slid his mouth against hers in a gentle kiss, before releasing her. “And stay safe tonight.”
She nodded. “I will. You, too.”
He grinned and said, “Always.” Then he stepped back and added, “We roll in five minutes.”
THEY HAD ALL piled into the one SUV. Vincent hadn’t wanted to stir up attention by leasing a second vehicle, and the Suburban was large enough to hold them all, albeit not with the comfort they were used to. Five vampires, none of them small, and Lana made for a tight fit. Vincent had relinquished the wheel reluctantly, but only because there was no way he was letting Lana sit in the back surrounded by males, and it made no sense for her to take up the front passenger seat when she was the smallest person among them. So, Vincent sat in back with Lana and Zárate, while Michael drove with Ortega in the passenger seat, and Jerry squeezed into the third seat all by himself.
Lana now sat between Vincent and Zárate, although Vincent had made sure there was plenty of air between her and the big vampire fighter. She’d accepted the new seating arrangement without a word, compliantly tucking herself in tight against Vincent’s side after he’d put his arm around her shoulders to make room for Zárate.
She didn’t say a word, but Vincent could feel the tension in her body where it was pressed up against his. She didn’t seem worried, though, so much as . . . focused, preparing herself mentally for the battle to come. Vincent had briefed everyone on what to expect, making it clear that the night’s work would probably include a level of violence greater than what they’d faced already that evening, with either Camarillo or Poncio.
Vincent wanted to say something to her, to offer encouragement, a joke, or even a lascivious comment about what they’d do after the battle, but with a vehicle full of vampires, there was no such thing as a private word. So he dropped his arm from where it lay over the back of the seat behind her and caressed her shoulder. She shifted her gaze from the road ahead and looked up to give him a small smile. Its warmth reached her eyes before she turned away again, and Vincent counted that victory enough for now.
The estate of Albert Serrana, the narco Enrique had given Carolyn to, was in the low hills, down a curved and poorly-maintained lane. The twisting nature of the road served them well, since no one at the main gate could see when they broke the first perimeter of security and took out the forward checkpoint while still a good hundred yards away. There had been four guards total, with one of them going for his radio the moment their vehicle came into sight. Vincent had dropped them all before the lone guard’s finger hit the “send” button. They were now sleeping peacefully inside their guard shack, where they’d remain until morning . . . or until Vincent decided it was wiser to eliminate them permanently.
Once past that checkpoint, they’d proceeded on foot, going over the hills rather than taking the road around them. Before long, they had a bird’s-eye view of Serrana’s compound from a nearby hilltop. In terms of layout, it was much like Poncio’s, but the similarities ended there. Serrana’s security was much greater and more obvious, even at night. But he’d counted too much on the single road in as a tripwire security measure. The humans below had no way of knowing that invaders now stood looking down on them, plotting their destruction. Because Vincent wouldn’t settle for anything less. As with the others, Serrana needed to be executed, not only for his crimes against Carolyn, but as an example to anyone who thought to use a vampire in this way ever again.
“Busy place,” Michael commented, standing next to Vincent.
“Ants on an anthill,” Vincent sneered. “Particularly vicious ants, but ants nonetheless.”
“Army ants,” Lana said quietly. “Don’t they cannibalize their own?”
They watched in silence a moment longer, then Michael asked, “Are we going to kill them all?”
Vincent considered the question. “No,” he decided suddenly. “We’re going to create a new legend tonight, a cautionary tale for those who think to cross us in the future.”
He looked up and saw his own savagery reflected in Michael’s grin . . . and in Lana’s carefully blank expression.
“Vincent?” she said, and at first he thought she was afraid of him. That bothered him more than it should have. But then her lips curved upward in a smile that matched his, and she asked, “Did you ever see the movie Silence of the Lambs?”
It took Vincent a moment, but then he laughed, throwing his head back in delight. He knew exactly what she had in mind, and it definitely worked for him. He glanced over and found Michael chuckling in understanding even as he stared at Lana with an expression that combined puzzlement with respect.