“Okay, jefe,” he said, turning to look at Vincent. “How do we do this?”
“Quick and quiet.”
“The guys are going to be disappointed. I think they were looking forward to some old-fashioned mayhem.”
“There will be mayhem enough for all of us over the next few days. But not tonight. Tonight, I need one guard awake and functioning. The others are going to take a long nap.”
LANA PATTED HER various pockets, making sure she had everything, unhappy that everything didn’t include her Sig. It was only temporary, since she’d once again stripped off her jacket in order to flash some skin, but it still didn’t make her happy.
“I’m getting a little tired of being your flesh puppet,” she muttered to Vincent, who was standing next to her, waiting.
“Flesh puppet?” he asked, clearly amused.
“What else do you call this?” she demanded, indicating her cleavage-baring tank top, although she’d left her bra on this time.
“Querida, you don’t want to know what I call that. At least, not in present company.”
Lana’s face heated, but she admitted to herself that the blush was as much pleasure as embarrassment.
“I want that gun back the minute we’re inside,” she informed Michael.
“Yes, ma’am,” he said, fighting a grin of his own.
Lana glared at him, not particularly thrilled to be the source of entertainment for a bunch of vampires.
Sensing her mood, Vincent bent down and said quietly, “Thank you for doing this, Lana.”
Lana narrowed her eyes at him, but he seemed sincere, so she shrugged. “It’s all for a good cause. And don’t forget you promised I could be there when you take this asshole down.”
“Definitely,” Vincent said, abruptly serious. “Carolyn doesn’t know any of us. I can calm her quickly enough, but initially, she’s likely to be more reassured by a female presence.”
In the face of that sobering reminder of why they were doing this, Lana forgot her own discomfort. What was showing a little skin compared to what the female vampire had been through? Nothing.
“I’m ready,” she said, tugging her tank top down and tucking it more tightly into her pants. She couldn’t help noticing Vincent’s unhappy expression as she did so. Well, too bad. This was his idea, after all.
“Let’s go,” he said gruffly.
They’d come down from their hilltop perch and now started around the final curve of narrow road that would take them to the front gate of the compound.
The plan was for Lana and Vincent to approach on foot. At first glance, they would come across as a couple of hikers, tourists who’d gotten lost in the foothills.
Lana smiled broadly as they approached. “Hi. I mean, buenos días,” she called, in her worst Spanish. “Por favor, estamos perdidos,” she continued. Then flapping her hands in front of her as if flustered, she added, “I’m sorry, my Spanish is . . . bad. Can you help us? I think we’re lost.”
The guards’ gaze kept shifting between her and Vincent, who was clearly the greater threat. He hadn’t said a word, but then, he wasn’t supposed to. His job was to work his vampire mojo, which as she understood it, was pretty much a silent endeavor. She hoped he did it soon, though, because, that old cliché about being undressed with a guy’s eyes? Yeah, that’s how she felt, and it was getting more and more uncomfortable with every minute. The guards were fingering their guns—HK MP5s, every criminal’s weapon of choice these days—and looking increasingly nervous, torn between staring at her boobs and sizing up Vincent.
Lana was just about to shoot Vincent a what-the-hell look, when both guards slumped to the ground, their weapons falling with a tinny clatter. She stared at them for a moment in surprise, then turned to ask Vincent a question. Only, she found herself breathless at the sight of him. He was always an arresting sight, beautiful and fit, with a charisma that surrounded him like a sparkling cloud. But she’d never seen him like this.
He stood perfectly still, barely breathing, the copper glow of his eyes so bright that it was like twin spotlights shining in the darkness. She felt that same electrostatic sizzle over her skin that she’d felt before, but this was stronger, almost painful in its intensity, a tightening shroud rather than a silken touch. But despite that, she stared up at him unafraid, knowing in her heart that even as he focused on the enemy behind the gates, he was protecting her.
The soft scuff of movement behind them warned her that Michael and the others had arrived, but she didn’t turn to look. Her attention was all on Vincent who was blazing with his power, fearsome in the intensity of his focus. With no warning, he blinked, and slowly turned his head to look at her. He smiled.
“Do you trust me, querida?”
Lana didn’t even have to think about her answer. “Yes.”
His smile warmed. “Michael,” he said without looking away from her.
“Here you go, beautiful,” Michael said to her in a teasing voice. He held out her jacket and weapon, which she donned quickly, not knowing exactly how much time they had or whether Vincent’s spell would hold.