“I never had the chance to ask you, Jerry,” he said, drawing the other vampire’s attention. “How did you know who I was? I mean, obviously I’m a vampire, but you knew me specifically. How? I’ve never met you.”
Jerry responded with the same sincerity and respect he always showed Vincent. “Lord Enrique. We were in Mexico City for a meeting, and you walked in as we were leaving. We were across the room, but Enrique made a point of stopping Camarillo and telling him to avoid you, because you were very powerful. I don’t think he knew I was listening, or maybe he didn’t care. But I think Camarillo decided right then that he wanted you for his own, because Enrique feared you.”
Vincent seemed to think for a moment. “I remember that meeting. He’d created a problem with some vampires in Cabo and wanted me to clean up his mess. I was only in Mexico City that one night.” He looked up and found Lana’s gaze upon him, and she knew he was thinking the same thing she was, how a chance meeting had changed so many lives. If he’d arrived a few minutes later that night, if Camarillo had never received Enrique’s warning, Jerry and the others would still be enslaved, and Vincent might not now be set on destroying Enrique sooner rather than later.
Vincent clapped Jerry on the shoulder. “You’d better get Carolyn onto the plane. They’ll be leaving soon.”
Jerry gave a little bow, then easily lifted the sleeping Carolyn and carried her up the stairs. Finally, only Michael was left, but he clearly didn’t want to leave at all.
“You’ve made enemies with all of this. If Enrique hasn’t already heard of it, he will soon. And he won’t want word of what he’s done getting out, not even to his own vamps. And especially not to the other lords. I don’t like you being out here alone.”
“I’m not alone. I have Lana.”
“No disrespect intended,” Michael said, giving her an apologetic glance, “but Ms. Arnold isn’t . . .” He let out a long breath, clearly searching for a word that wouldn’t offend her.
“You mean she isn’t a vampire,” Vincent supplied, seeming more bemused than anything else.
“Exactly.”
“We’ll be fine, Michael. I think we both know Enrique has more pressing matters on his plate right now. We have a few days before he can realistically act, and that’s all we’ll need. We’ll finish this mission of Raphael’s and see what comes next.”
Michael gave him a somber look. “Mexico City is next.”
Vincent nodded. “The only question is the timing. And I have a strong suspicion that what Xuan Ignacio has to tell us will bear on that decision.”
Michael didn’t look happy, but he nodded his agreement. “Remember your promise, Sire.”
“Yeah, yeah, no Mexico City without you. You’re like a nagging child.”
Michael laughed, then glanced back at the jet as the engines increased in pitch. “That’s the pilot telling me to get my ass on board. Take care, jefe. And keep me informed.”
Vincent pulled Michael in for a hug, then pushed him toward the stairs. “Go, before we humiliate ourselves by weeping in front of Lana.”
Michael grinned and loped up the stairs, taking them three at a time. Lana envied his energy. The way she was feeling, she’d have been clinging to the handrail and dragging herself up one step at a time.
Vincent pulled her away from the jet as someone retracted the stairs and swung the hatch closed. By the time the plane was taxiing slowly from the hangar, the two of them were already in the SUV. And before it turned onto the runway, they were speeding back through the airport, heading for the main highway.
Lana checked her seatbelt, then settled into the front passenger seat with a relieved sigh, feeling oddly at home, as if she was back in her seat, and she could relax now that the SUV was restored to its proper order. And that meant it was once again just she and Vincent racing through the night.
“How far to the hotel?” she asked, stifling a yawn.
“Fifty miles give or take.”
She stared at him in disbelief. “Fifty miles? Wasn’t there anything closer?”
“Of course there was, but not the kind of place I wanted. You’ll be glad once we get there.”
“I’ll be dead once we get there. I’m tired and I’m hungry. I need to eat, you know. Real food.” She was beginning to sound like a whiny child, but she didn’t care. She was starving and she wanted a shower.
“Close your eyes, querida. I’ll wake you before we arrive,” he said calmly, as if he hadn’t heard a word she’d said. Or that it didn’t matter. Probably the latter, since he was so used to calling the shots.
Lana could have argued, but it would have been only for argument’s sake, because the stubborn ass wasn’t going to change his mind. He’d just smile and do whatever he wanted anyway. She leaned against the door and closed her eyes, not really believing she’d sleep, but not in the mood to argue, either.
The last thing she heard was Vincent speaking to someone on the phone, arranging in rapid-fire Spanish for a meal to be waiting when they arrived.
Lana woke with a start when Vincent stroked her cheek with the back of his fingers. She stared around with the dazed perceptions of someone who’d fallen asleep in one place and awakened somewhere else. Somewhere she’d never been before.
She looked over and found Vincent watching her. “You ready?” he asked.