Deeper than the Night - By Amanda Ashley Page 0,64

back, now, even if I have to tie you up and carry you."

"Oh, all right, I promise."

"I expect you to keep it."

"Be careful."

"I will." He gazed at her for a long moment; then, grasping her by the shoulders, he drew her close and kissed her, hard. "Remember your promise," he said, and slid out of the car.

His sense of danger grew stronger as he approached the house. Standing on the porch, he let his senses expand. There were a number of people inside. He recognized Gail's scent among them.

Taking a deep breath, he knocked on the door.
Chapter Eighteen
Gail blinked up at the tall man standing on the porch. "Mr. Claybourne," she murmured. "What are you doing here?"

"I came to see you, of course."

"Me?" Gail felt a twinge of apprehension as she stared at Alex. He loomed tall and menacing in the pale yellow glow of the porch light. Dressed all in black, with long black hair and penetrating black eyes, he was the perfect image of what she'd always imagined a vampire would look like.

"I thought I'd take you out for ice cream."

"Oh, I . . ." Gail licked her lips nervously, then glanced over her shoulder. Barrett was standing behind her, out of Claybourne's sight. "I can't. Nana needs me here."

"How is your grandmother?"

"Not very well."

"I'm sorry to hear that. Tell her I hope she feels better soon."

"I will."

"Good-bye."

"Bye."

Gail watched him walk down the steps, her mind churning with questions. Where was Kara? Why had Alexander Claybourne really stopped by? She wanted to call him back, wanted to run after him, but she felt Barrett's hand on her arm.

"Shut the door," Barrett ordered curtly.

Gail hesitated a moment, felt Barrett's fingers dig into her arm. Reluctantly, she closed the door.

"Who was that?"

"Just a friend of mine."

Barrett looked at her, his expression skeptical. "A little old for you, isn't he?"

"He's not a boyfriend," Gail said sarcastically. "Just a friend. He's a writer."

"Claybourne?" Barrett frowned.

"He writes horror stories," Gail said. "I used to think he was a vampire."

Barrett laughed as he pushed her toward the living room. "A vampire, huh? Very funny. Sit down."

Gail sat on the sofa and picked up the book she had been reading. It was one of Alexander's vampire books. She knew she wasn't supposed to be reading it, but there was no one there to stop her. Mrs. Zimmermann didn't know she wasn't supposed to read Claybourne's books, and Nana was too sick to care. Gail concentrated on the story. There was a lot of it that she didn't understand, but it kept her mind off Barrett and the other three men who had taken over the house.

She stared at the pages, silently praying that Kara wouldn't come home and that Barrett would get tired of waiting and go away.

Alex walked away from the house, aware that he was being watched. He had sensed someone standing behind Gail. Barrett, perhaps? There had been others in the house, as well. He had recognized Nana's scent among them. The others had been strangers.

He paused in the shadows beyond the house, wondering what their next move should be, wondering if there were more of Barrett's men keeping watch outside. He considered having Kara call the police, but they had no evidence that Barrett was doing anything illegal. And if Kara confronted Barrett in the presence of the authorities, Barrett would most likely inform the police that he suspected Kara was infected with a deadly virus and insist that she be quarantined in his care.

Alex grunted softly, thoughtfully. Barrett was a respected member of the medical community. Alex had no doubt that the police would accept the doctor's word over his, especially when a police medical examiner studied Kara's blood work.

Alex muttered an oath as he walked down the street toward his car. They'd have to handle this on their own, and in such a way that neither Gail nor her grandmother, nor Mrs. Zimmermann, was put at risk.

He had considered and rejected several plans of action by the time he reached the Porsche. For a moment, he stared at the broken window, refusing to accept the fact that she was gone.

Rage swelled within him, growing stronger with each passing moment. He took a deep breath, and the scent of her fear stung his nostrils.

Unable to contain his fury, he struck the fender of the Porsche with his fist. The metal crumpled as if it were made of tissue paper.

"Damn you, Barrett," he hissed. "If you harm a hair of her