"I'm not going to tell you. How long were you going to keep that to yourself?" I snapped, flinging my toiletries bag into a suitcase lying open on our bed.
"You are a member as well, as my vampire spouse," Gavin pointed out. He wasn't helping his case any—he was merely digging a deeper hole.
"Yeah? How about that?" I zipped the suitcase. "I pity the next female that gets turned, you know." I lifted the suitcase off the bed as if it weighed nothing. "She'll be paraded in front of all those vampires and sold off to the highest bidder, if she isn't already under some vampire's thumb. You people need to come out of the dark ages." I headed toward the door and then turned back as the thought hit me. "You know what? Scratch that," I pointed an accusing finger at Gavin. "You need to come out of the cave." I flung the door open and stalked into the hallway.
"What precipitated this argument, cousin?" René walked into Gavin's hotel room after Lissa stormed angrily out the door. He'd heard the entire argument from his and Tony's adjoining suite.
"Wlodek," Gavin sighed. "She didn't know that young vampires are not allowed to earn money. Wlodek informed me that the reward money for Richter would be deposited in my account. Lissa overheard and now she is upset."
"She captured him, cousin. You just relieved him of his head." René slapped Gavin on the back. Gavin growled low. "How much was it, anyway?"
"Fifteen million pounds," Gavin grumbled.
"I think you owe Lissa," René laughed and went to find Tony. Roff was staring at Gavin when René left. He didn't understand. The Raona had no money? She was the Queen. He shook his head and trotted out the door after Lissa.
"I didn't make that rule," Gavin announced to an empty room.
As plane rides went, that one sucked. The weather was bad—there was a storm over Missouri and I thought I was going to have to mist everybody out of the plane, including the pilot and copilot. Gavin had me out of my seat and crushed in his arms after we dropped several hundred feet at one point. Roff was terrified and holding onto whatever part of me Gavin didn't have locked up. I was never so glad to see the Oklahoma City airport in my life when we finally landed on solid ground.
Winkler even looked gray when we stepped off the plane. The bags were taken off and we rode a shuttle to our van. I heaved a huge sigh and buried my head against Gavin's shoulder as we drove toward Nichols Hills.
"Cara, we'll take a drive as soon as we get to the house," Gavin murmured against my ear. We did take a drive—a long one.
"This was my house," I said as we drove past the property. It had a for sale sign in the front yard. I wondered who'd get the money now. Of course, none of my belongings would be inside it anymore; Sara had probably sold all of it in a garage sale and I told Gavin that.
"Do you want the house, Cara?" Gavin asked me gently.
"It doesn't have anything that I want now, Gavin. What would I do with it, anyway?" All I had left were memories and those I carried with me—both good and bad.
"Sometimes I am jealous of your first husband," Gavin said.
"Why?" Gavin was driving and he turned to look at me briefly, his dark eyes raking my face when I asked the question.
"Because you said yes when he asked," Gavin turned away from me again, easing the van down the cul-de-sac I used to live on. "Lissa, I know I got you by trickery and default. I think I would have tried to kill anyone else that might have taken you away." His mouth was set in a grim line as he steered the van away from my old street.
"You always get what you want?" I asked, studying his face. A bit of sadness touched his features. I could tell he regretted many of the things that lay between us.
"You were the first thing in a very long time that I truly wanted," Gavin admitted quietly.
"I thought you were going to kill me for a long time," I mumbled and turned to look out my window.
"I would have paid for that in ways you cannot imagine," Gavin informed me, pulling onto Reno Avenue. "Bill gave me the results of Sara Workman's autopsy before we left Chicago." He was changing the subject.
"What did they find?" I almost didn't want to know.
"Heart failure, just as you said, cara."
"I wonder if he still wants to capture me," I said, meaning Xenides.
"I'm sure he wants you more than ever, love. He sees the potential in you. He could destroy countries with you, cara mia. That's what he thinks to do when he has you in his grip. He would have a good start, even without your help, if he and Alif had managed to kill the Vice President in Chicago." Gavin's words worried me, and I wondered who those two planned to target next.
"What a comforting thought," I slapped a hand over my face. Gavin drove us to a nearby motel that didn't look too bad, secured a room, called René to let him know we wouldn't be back for a while and proceeded to love me senseless.
Sunday, September fifth, Gavin and I rose at sunset, showered and checked out of our motel room. The young woman behind the desk was eyeing my ring as Gavin and I turned in our keys before we left.
"That looks expensive," she said.
"I'm sure it was," I smiled at her. Gavin gave me a dark look and shooed me out the door.
"I suppose you're wondering why I never bought you a ring," I grumped when we climbed into the van. Gavin turned sharply to look at me as he put the van in gear and backed out. "I'm not about to ask Merrill to pay for it," I said. "When I can get to my own money, you'll have one."
"Are we back to the money thing?" he asked quietly as we headed toward I-35.
"No, we're at the ring thing," I said. "There's nothing I can do about the money thing." When we arrived at the house in Nichols Hills, we found a werewolf from the Oklahoma City pack there. Winkler had asked him to move in for the present. The Packmaster for the Oklahoma City pack was there, too, and I was shocked to find that I knew him.
"Jerry?" I walked up to him while he shared a drink with Winkler and the other werewolf, whose name was Michael.
"Do I know you?" Jerry asked, frowning at me. He was getting the vampire scent, just as Michael was. They were supposed to know why they were here, weren't they? At least their hackles weren't up and they weren't growling.
"Yeah, or you used to," I said. Jerry was the assistant Chief of Police for the city. Gavin came up behind me, just in case I needed protection, I think.
"Jerry, this is Lissa," Winkler introduced us. The light went on for Jerry right then.
"Holy shit," he said, and held out his hand. "That's what happened to you."
"Yeah, that's what happened to me, all right," I said and shook his hand.
"We miss you down at the courthouse," Jerry said, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he smiled at me. Jerry was in his eighties—as a werewolf. Everybody at the courthouse thought he was thirty-seven.
"I miss lunch," I countered. Jerry laughed.
"Jerry, this is Gavin, my husband," I introduced Gavin to Jerry. Jerry nodded and took Gavin's hand when it was offered.
"I'm sorry about Don," Jerry told me.
"Yeah, me too," I said. "If he were still alive, I wouldn't be here right now."
"Does what you are now have anything to do with David and Sara Workman's disappearance?" Jerry asked.
"Sort of," I said.
"Lissa's special, and now everyone is trying to get their hands on her," Winkler said. "Threats have been made and we're trying to get to the bottom of all of it. We're working with the Director of the Joint NSA and Homeland Security Department on it."
"Are you kidding me?" Jerry couldn't believe that.
"There's a special division of the FBI that has vampires and werewolves," Winkler grinned. "Obviously not many know about that."
Michael had been listening to our conversation and couldn't hold back any longer. "Is the Director looking for recruits? Man, I'd love to work for the FBI and not have to hide what I am from my coworkers."
"Bill will come by tomorrow afternoon," Winkler said. "He's tying up loose ends in Chicago right now."
"In on that terrorist thing?" Jerry asked.
"We were all in on that terrorist thing," Winkler chuckled. "We just got back yesterday. Bill's department is taking all the credit for capturing Rahim Alif—we just can't announce on the nightly news that four vampires and a werewolf handled the whole thing, now can we?"
"That's all the news is about right now—the capture of a terrorist on U.S. soil," Michael snorted. "They're saying the Vice President may have been the target."
Xenides considered tossing the television across the room, but the hotel staff would receive complaints if he made too much noise so late at night. Rahim had allowed himself to be captured by U.S. authorities. Rahim had slipped up one time too many and Xenides hadn't been close enough to pick up the pieces. The fool. Xenides' human snipers were dead—two had been killed on-site and the third died on the way to the hospital. Nobody would get information from them. Director Bill Jennings had accomplished what Anthony Hancock had failed to do, however, capturing Rahim. Jennings was becoming a bigger problem than Hancock. Xenides growled—Jennings had the little princess, still, and that angered the ancient vampire greatly.
The news was now reporting that Seraphim had been captured, but she knew next to nothing—Richter made sure of that. Xenides hadn't been able to reach Richter, so he was likely dead or captured. Xenides had placed compulsion, however, for Rahim and Richter not to reveal anything about him or his plans. He was safe. He'd just have to go looking for other human scum to do his bidding; Xenides had already gathered as many rogue vampires as he could. An idea occurred to him, however, and he smiled before lifting his cell and dialing a number.
"He's not responding to the medication as well as we'd hoped."
The physician's words dealt a blow to Franklin, who'd spent yet another night at the hospital. He was exhausted and Merrill had gone off to check on the reported sighting of a vampire the Council was tracking. Greg hadn't wakened and Franklin was worried that he'd slipped into a coma. He didn't ask the question however; he was too afraid to learn the answer.
"Is there anything else to try?" Franklin rubbed his eyes.
"I'm ordering new antibiotics; we'll see how that goes," the doctor replied.
Franklin watched as the physician walked down the hospital corridor, away from Greg's room. He considered calling Merrill and then thought better of it. His fingers itched to call Lissa too, only Merrill had forbidden it. Franklin walked inside Greg's room instead, prepared to sit at his bedside again. Sliding into a chair, Franklin leaned his head against the edge of the hospital bed, near Greg's hand and closed his eyes.
Monday, September sixth came along, as did Director Bill Jennings. Michael Robinson, our new werewolf guard, was doing his best to work up the courage to ask Bill for a job. I intervened and sent Bill mindspeech. Bill's eyebrows lifted slightly and he nodded. I realized background checks and things would have to be done, but Bill would consider it now. Some people were just too shy to ask for something they wanted for themselves. I had no doubts that Michael would be a good hire—I got good vibes off him all around.