Runaway Vampire (5 page)

“You are married?”

Startled by the strangled tone to his voice, Mary glanced to Dante with surprise. The horror on his face made her eyebrows rise slightly, but she shifted her attention back to the road and said quietly, “I was. I am widowed now. Joe had a major heart attack and died on our return journey last year.” Hearing the beginning of huskiness in her voice, she cleared her throat, before adding, “This was my first trip alone. And my last,” she added dryly.

Silence stretched out between them briefly and then Dante murmured a quiet, “My sympathies for your loss.”

Mary nodded stiffly, suddenly having to battle back tears. She'd managed to get the information out without losing it, but he offered her his sympathies and she was hard put not to cry like a baby. Damn, this grief business was a tricky bitch, sneaking up on her at the most inopportune times.

Swallowing the sudden lump in her throat, Mary quickly dashed the back of one wrist over her eyes to remove the few tears that had escaped. Apparently her upset didn't escape Dante, because he suddenly murmured, “Perhaps I should take over driving.”

“No!” Mary barked, her mind filling with a sudden image of his sitting in her lap with nothing but the ridiculous afghan covering, or not covering, his bits
while she tried to slip out from under him. Good God! Trying for a calmer tone of voice, she said, “No, but thank you. I'll be fine.”

Dante was silent for a minute, and then murmured, “If you are sure . . . ?”

“I'm sure,” she said solemnly, and then changed the subject, asking, “How did you end up working for the Feds?”

“The Feds?” Dante queried uncertainly.

Mary glanced to him with surprise, but then turned her gaze back to the road and said, “I assumed since this was a kidnapping case, that the task force you were helping out was federal. Isn't it?”

“Oh, yes, I see,” he murmured and then cleared his throat and said, “My brother and I volunteered.”

“Really?” she asked with surprise. “So you aren't a fed yourself?”

“No,” he murmured.

“What do you do then?” she asked curiously.

Dante hesitated and then shrugged. “Some protection work, some other things. Whatever is needed.”

“I see,” she said slowly, and thought the translation of that was probably that he was mostly unemployed. There seemed to be a lot of that today. When she'd been young, most people had graduated from high school to go on to further education, work, or sometimes—for the girls like her—marriage. There had been perhaps a handful of kids who hadn't graduated and had fallen by the wayside, but for the most part they were the exception to the rule. Nowadays, it seemed like there were a lot more exceptions to the rule. More of the young
seemed to be not settling into work or a career, but wandering through life, mostly unemployed and unsettled, couch surfing their way through life.

Mary grimaced to herself and acknowledged that she was sounding like her own grandmother. She couldn't recall how many times the woman had started a rant by saying, “when I was young.”

“Tell me about your husband,” Dante said suddenly.

Mary glanced around with surprise at the request and then turned forward again. She opened her mouth to say no, and instead found herself saying, “He was a good man.”

When she didn't continue, Dante asked, “How did you meet?”

“We were high school sweethearts,” she answered solemnly. “My first kiss, my first date, my first everything.”

He seemed to consider that and then asked, “Do you ever feel like you missed out? Not getting to date other men or experience—?”

“No,” Mary interrupted. She'd been asked the question before. Usually by younger people who seemed horrified that she hadn't kissed and slept with loads of men before settling down with Joe. “I was very lucky. Some women go their whole life searching for, but never finding their perfect life mate. I was lucky enough to find mine before I was even looking.”

“Life mate?” Dante asked and something about his tone of voice made her glance curiously his way.

“Yes,” she murmured, noting his odd expression before glancing back to the road. “Mate for life. I could
have said
husband
, I suppose, or
dream man
, but
dream man
sounds stupid, and husband just doesn't cover all that Joe was to me.” She paused briefly, and then said, “I suppose life partner is the better description. He was my partner in every sense, my best friend, my lover, my husband, my cohort in crime,” she ended with a grin.

“Crime?” Dante sounded shocked and she chuckled at his tone of voice.

“Not criminal type crime,” she assured him. “We weren't Bonnie and Clyde or anything. I just meant, if there was a prank to be pulled, or a gag joke . . .” She shrugged. “We had the same sense of humor and laughed a lot over the years.”

“It sounds . . . perfect,” Dante said, and she noted that he sounded less than pleased to say so.

“No,” she said solemnly. “Nothing is perfect. Not even my Joe. But after a couple of bumps in the beginning we had a good life.”

“What kind of bumps?” Dante asked at once, sounding almost eager.

Mary hesitated, very old, very painful memories welling up inside her, but then she merely shook her head. “It doesn't matter now. No one is perfect, Dante.”

They were both silent for a moment. Dante was eating and Mary was shifting her attention between the road and her own sandwich, trying to figure out how the hell she was going to eat it. She hadn't come up with anything by the time Dante finished his sandwiches and headed back to set the plate in the sink. At least, she hoped he put it in the sink. It would go flying at the first turn or stop if he didn't, she thought, and risked a
glance over her shoulder. Her attention was caught then as she noted the RV had been cleaned up. There were no more items littering the floor. Everything had been stowed away and all the doors and drawers were now closed once more.

“Eyes on the road,” Dante said mildly, catching her looking when he turned to head back toward the front seats.

Mary turned forward again, but said, “Thank you for cleaning up.”

“It was my fault,” Dante said simply as he reached her side. He didn't immediately take his seat again, however, but scooted Bailey out of the way, and knelt where the dog had been lying.

Mary glanced warily toward him to see that he was eyeing her solemnly.

“You are tired,” he announced. “And no doubt hungry.”

“I'm fine,” Mary said quietly.

“I can either feed you, or I will take over driving. Your choice.”

“I'm fine,” Mary repeated, swallowing nervously as she considered both options.

“You are afraid because you are attracted to me,” Dante announced with amusement and Mary scowled at the road.

“Someone has an ego on them,” she growled. “I am not attracted to you. You're a child. I'm an older woman. I like big boys.”

“I am a big boy,” Dante said easily, managing not to sound like a braggart as he stated the obvious. And it
was
obvious. The man stood at least six feet eight, and his shoulder breadth was breathtaking. He was like a wall beside her, even on his knees.

“I meant a grown-up,” she said irritably.

“I am older than I look,” he assured her mildly. “And I know you are attracted to me. Your heart rate and breathing pick up every time I am near you.”

Mary glanced at him sharply at that comment, and froze when she noted that the silver flecks in his black eyes appeared to have at least doubled in number. It almost seemed like they were glowing too, she noted faintly.

“The road,” he reminded her and Mary tore her gaze from him to concentrate on the road again, but she couldn't get his eyes out of her mind. She'd never seen eyes like his before. So deep and dark and beautiful at first, and now glowing with silver like fine jewels.

“You must eat,” Dante announced and her sandwich suddenly appeared in front of her face.

Mary peered at it reluctantly, but shook her head.

“Come,” he coaxed, pressing it against her lips. “If you will not let me feed you, I will take your place at the wheel. I will lift you up, slip under you and take over driving.”

Mary actually felt the way her heart jumped at the suggestion. It then began to beat away at an accelerated rate that was almost scary. She had an old ticker. It shouldn't be this active.

“See?” There was no mistaking the satisfaction in Dante's voice. “Your heartbeat is racing at the thought of my hands on you.”

“My heart is racing with anger at your insolence,” she countered shortly. “Did no one ever teach you to respect your elders?”

“Mary, you must—”

“Your friends are dropping back,” Mary interrupted and Dante immediately lowered the sandwich and turned his gaze to the rear camera view. They both watched silently as the van behind them grew smaller on the screen. It had grown to about half size when a pickup pulled in front of it and between them.

“Do you think they're giving up on you?” she asked.

“I am not sure. I must call Lucian to see if they got Tomasso out,” he muttered and set her sandwich back on the dashboard before standing to move to the back of the RV.

Mary relaxed a little the moment he wasn't hovering at her side. Honestly, the man was just overwhelming. His size, his scent, and his sexy deep voice with its charming accent . . . everything about him was distracting and overwhelming. So much so that she was hoping that his followers were giving up and letting him go. If so, it meant she could soon be rid of him. A good thing, she assured herself, ignoring the disappointment that the thought of his leaving brought up in her.

Her gaze slid to the rear camera view and she squinted as she noted that someone seemed to be leaning out of the passenger window of the pickup behind them. The image was all different shades of gray and she couldn't be sure, but it almost looked like the person was aiming a gun at the RV. Not a gun, she thought in the next moment, more like a crossbow or something maybe.

“Dante,” she said with alarm, afraid they were perhaps with the van and were about to shoot out the tires on the RV or something.

“What is it?” Dante asked, his voice growing nearer.

Mary opened her mouth to answer, but then paused uncertainly. The person had slid back into the pickup and it was now dropping back too. The RV tires were all still intact as far as she could tell, so she gathered they hadn't been shot out.

“Mary, the road!” Dante cried suddenly and she switched her gaze back to the road to see that in her distraction she'd been steering to the right, toward the shoulder of the road. In fact she was already on the white line. Heart jumping in alarm, she quickly steered back to the left. Once she had it straightened out in the center of the lane, she let her breath out on a slow sigh.

Dante relaxed beside her and then leaned past her to set her phone back in the holder.

“Did they get your brother out?” she asked quietly.

“I do not know. Lucian did not answer,” Dante said unhappily. “I left a message for him to call me.”

“What are you doing?” Mary asked with alarm when he dropped to his knees next to her again.

“I am going to feed you,” he said firmly.

“Dante—” she began in a warning tone.

“You need to eat,” he interrupted sternly, picking up one half of her sandwich and turning toward her.

“I will eat,” she said quickly. “You can take over driving at the next gas station.”

“Mary, we cannot stop,” he said solemnly. “It is too risky.”

“Your friends have dropped back so far I can't even see their lights anymore,” she countered, and then added, “We have to stop, Dante. We're almost out of gas.”

“What?” he asked with alarm and glanced to the gas gauge to see that it was nearly on empty.

“Why is it so low?” he asked, sounding shocked that she would let that happen.

“Because I didn't get gas before leaving the truck stop as I intended,” Mary said dryly. “I didn't get the chance. I wasn't driving.”

When he merely stared at her, worry on his face, she said, “They've dropped back. I think they've given up on us. For all we know they've pulled off the highway and turned back to head to the house where you were kept,” she pointed out.

“But what if they are just feigning giving up?” he asked with a frown. “They could just be letting us think they have given up in hopes that we'll stop somewhere and they can catch us unawares.”

Mary's mouth tightened at the suggestion, and she glanced to the rear camera view, wishing it had telescoping abilities so that she could see if they were still back there or not. It didn't, however, and after a moment she sighed and said, “We'll have to take the risk. We need gas.”

Cursing, Dante stood and set her sandwich back on her plate, then glanced around as if for a spare gas tank they might use.

“According to the Garmin there's a gas station not too far ahead. We should make it there,” she added hopefully and couldn't believe she hadn't noticed until
now that they were so seriously low on gas. She usually kept an eye on it. Of course, this wasn't your usual day, she excused herself. Besides, she wasn't lying; she had intended to get gas at the truck stop. At least she had before she'd found Dante naked in her bedroom bleeding all over the place. After that she hadn't thought of it once.

“You have no back windows,” Dante announced suddenly, as if that might have escaped her notice. “If you had back windows I could—”

“You could what?” she asked curiously when he paused. When he didn't respond at once, she glanced around to see that he was poking at the air vent in the ceiling next to the dinette table. It looked like he was considering it as an escape route or something. She had no idea why. The man couldn't possibly fit through it. Besides, where did he think he was escaping to?