But he’d been so broken up about Suze. Showing up on Layla’s doorstep, outright sobbing and clinging to her like a baby, his hands roaming. Adamant about digging into his wife’s death even though the cops said it was an accident, called him crazy for asking questions. For her part Layla thought hewasprobably a bit unhinged from the shock , but…
Well, it might be time to admit a home truth or two. Suppressing a long-term crush on your best friend’s husband did not make for entirely objective assessments. She’d tried to be careful, to look at the evidence around Suze’s death, try to disprove anything outlandish.
There was just somuchonce they started digging. And Dan seemed to need her so badly. He’d even been outright affectionate, at first; she’d kind of suspected he wanted to rebound on her. It had taken all her willpower to act blissfully oblivious to that aspect, because of poor Suze and also because some faint but definite voice—maybe conscience, maybe just a twinge of pride—told Layla she didn’t want sloppy seconds.
She preferred somethingreal, and if she stuck around through the hard stuff maybe he’d see as much.
At least, that had been her hope. And yet… there was the wedding incident.
She hadn’t said a word about seeing him with Cindy, she’d listened when he talked about biters and things going bump in the night, she’d looked at the proof he’d gathered, she’d tried to do what wasright.
Now here she was, kidnapped by a biter. And Dan was dead.
Was he? Could she trust anything a vampire said?You need not concern yourself with them.
She could go with what she saw, couldn’t she? Ben, vanishing between syllables. Ack, plucked right out of his chair. And thevampire now standing next to her, silent and patient a cat at a mousehole. She stole glances at his beaky profile, her stomach fluttering harder as the elevator stopped.
Not a soul in sight, from the hotel suite to the hallway. When would she see ordinary people again? What time was it now? And Christ, what did he say his name was?
Max. No, Maximus.That can’t be real. It suddenly struck her as funny, and she clapped a hand over her mouth.None of that, no sir. Don’t you dare, Layla.
If she got the giggles now, who knew what the hell else would happen?
The elevator dinged, the door drew aside—yep, a parking level. Outside a larger glass enclosure, concrete walls surrounded patiently waiting cars. Still no sign of another human being.
Had he killed everyone in the damn hotel? She wouldn’t put it past this monster, and thinking about it made her gorge rise hot and acid, dispelling post-sex glow.
Or trying to. Her neck throbbed; seen in the bathroom mirror, the fangmarks were classic, vivid, and horrifying. She’d never dreamed of her own skin bearing the pattern—four upper, two lower, the punctures’ outer margins white, the centers bright-scabbed red, slight bruise-discoloration spreading to show the arcs of the bite.
Post those on a forum, you’d get a lot of hits. Where’s a camera when you need one?Terrible, breathless, almost screamy hilarity swirled next to the thin scorch of bile in her throat.
“Come.” The vampire reached over her to keep the elevator door open despite Layla’s instinctive, all-too-visible flinch, then herded her out of the box. He also opened the glass door for her, like a goshdarn gentleman, then brushed past and set off as if expecting her to follow.
She did so as slowly as she dared, outright dilly-dallying and still holding back rancid, acidic giggles, breathing hard through loosely cupped fingers. The movement of air against her skin was comforting, a reminder she was still alive. This underground level was much warmer than interior air conditioning, though nowhere near soggy-breathless as it would be outside. She examined the cars—most with out-of-state plates, not a local hooptie in sight—and scanned reflexively for any exits.
No chance to find a single outlet for escape, because a sleek black Volvo roused nearby. The sound made her jump before she realized that somehow, the damn vampire had keyless start. Which was even funnier, in the same bleak way as everything else right now, and she was going to commence howling with heebie-jeebie chuckles any moment now.
Researching vampires and other weird shit gave one unhealthy coping mechanisms and a terribly dark sense of humor, but she’d never gotten the howlers this bad. Ever.
Well, this is an exceptional situation, Lay.
The Volvo’s trunk clicked open; Max the Vampire settled the big Samsonite with almost prissy care. Then he indicated the passenger side, clearly expecting her to load up. Maybe he wasn’t going to open her door, which might have been smart since it could give her a chance to scramble away once there was a slab of metal and glass between them? He probably considered boxing her in to be the better tactic, and maybe this model had kiddie locks.
It certainly looked fancy enough.
Don’t let an attacker take you to a second location, all the self-defense classes said. Was this more like taking her to a third, though? He’d gotten her away from base toot-sweet, as Meemaw Cathy put it.
“Are you ill?” Christ, he actually sounded faintly worried. Vampire Max hunched slightly, examining her—he was so muchtaller it was almost ridiculous, a bear politely inquiring as to a smaller creature’s health. Of course, most everyone was taller than her, she’d inherited her mother’s small bones and…
Wild, neurotic banshee laughter crammed itself sideways in her throat. Layla kept her hand clapped tight, andnowher brain had gotten the memo to start up, racing furiously through an utter lack of alternatives.
Oh, God, please.She managed a single tiny headshake.Please let him just leave me here. He doesn’t want me to throw up in his car, right? Please let him be a neat freak.
For a moment she was dead certain it was the wrong move, because the vampire went still again, that terrible inhuman motionlessness.
Then his head jerked up, swiveled; a pair of red pinpricks bloomed in his pupils. Layla’s heart leapt into her throat as well, crowding out the screaming-meemies but doing a grand job of keeping up the choking, and once more her knees threatened to give.
At least he wasn’t looking at her, which was great because the mask of patient normalcy had fallen completely away. His upper lip twitched, lifting, and there was a faint crackling noise in the parking garage’s stillness.
