Out of the Night (32 page)

They hit with such a jarring impact that Mac stumbled and almost fell. Dirk rushed to them and lent a steadying hand as Lanie loosened her grip and slid off Mac's back. For several seconds, all she could do was stand there, trembling, amazed that they had made it.

Then, as the shock wore off, she turned to Mac, overcome with emotion, and hugged him tightly. His arms enfolded her in a way that was growing both familiar and comfortable.

"Let's go home," she heard him whisper.

They walked several blocks without speaking much, and then caught a cab to take them the rest of the way to the hotel. Mac kept his arm around Lanie the entire time, but she didn't mind. She'd come too close to losing him.

As she rode in the backseat, sitting between the two men, she remembered the notes left for them. "We need to find a new place to stay," she told the men. "Who knows what Burton will send next?"

Mac leaned forward slightly to give her a quizzical look. "Where were you earlier?"

"Sitting in an apartment stairwell halfway across town, waiting for the sun to come up." She quickly explained, ignoring the look of reprimand he gave her when she mentioned running out to meet her father. His features darkened further when she told them how she'd escaped the vampire. "Then I waited until dawn, went outside to find out where I was, and called a cab," she finished. "When I reached the room, I found the other note and knew you and Dirk were walking into a trap. I tried to get there in time to warn you—I'm sorry I was late."

He gave her a squeeze. "I thought you were dead."

"I thought we all were," she admitted. "I was standing in the stairwell when the first bomb went off. I knew I could only go up from there, so I prayed you both were above me."

They reached their hotel, but rather than approaching the front desk as Lanie expected, Mac led them to the elevator.

"Aren't we going to at least see about getting different rooms?"

"Look at us, Lanie. We'll be lucky they don't kick us out, much less give us new rooms."

He was right. They looked like drunks who'd rolled around in the soot. Their faces and clothes were streaked with the black ash from the burning building and they smelled of smoke.

"I think we'll be okay during the day," Mac added as they stepped onto the elevator and rode it in silence to their floor.

As soon as they entered the room, the two men ambled over toward the bed, looking like they could barely stand. She was afraid they'd fall asleep, soot, smell, and all.

"Wait. Don't sit down," she hollered as Dirk approached the bed. "Mac, do you have any clean clothes?"

He stared at her as if he had a hard time processing her words, but then nodded.

"Good, get two sets." She figured he and Dirk were close enough in size and build that his clothes would fit Dirk. She watched Mac rummage in his duffel bag in the closet, coming up with two sets of boxers and jeans, which he held out to her.

She took them and put one set in Mac's bathroom and another in hers. "Okay, before you two drop, go take a shower and put on the clean clothes. Leave the dirty ones on the floor."

Mac looked like he wanted to laugh at her taking charge, but didn't have the energy. Instead, he glanced at his bathroom and then at the connecting doors. "You take this one," he said to Dirk, pointing to the bathroom in his room. "You can crash here."

Dirk nodded.

"I'll shower in here."

Ten minutes later she was sitting in the desk chair when Mac walked out wearing nothing but a towel. He looked tired, clean, and his skin had a bright, healthy glow from the heat of the shower.

"You can take your shower now." His husky tone brushed over her.

"Thanks." She stared at him, a little surprised he wasn't wearing the clothes she'd put in there. Expecting him to go into his own room, she wished him a good night. "Hope you sleep well."

"I plan to," he replied, walking to her bed.

"What are you doing?" she asked when it appeared that he was about to take off his towel and climb under the covers.

His hands froze at his waist. "Taking off my towel."

"You're sleeping in
my
bed?"

"Very observant of you."

"Where am I supposed to sleep?" She wondered if her voice sounded as breathless to him as it had to her.

"There are two beds, Lanie. One in here and one in there. I'll let you decide." His hand began to undo the towel, so she dashed into the bathroom, quickly shutting the door. There was only so much excitement a girl could take.

She took a long shower, giving herself plenty of time to relax and think about all that had happened—and to delay the moment when she had to walk back into the room. Finally, when her skin had pruned, she knew she couldn't put it off any longer. She shut off the water and stepped out. Taking the last towel, she dried herself and then realized that she hadn't brought in a change of clothes. She wrapped the towel about her body as best she could and prayed that Mac had already fallen asleep.

She cracked open the door and listened. When she heard the sound of steady, deep breathing, she stepped out and tiptoed across the room to her duffel bag. A glance at Mac's face took her breath away. Once again, she was struck by all that virile masculinity in
her
bed.

She dug through her bag until she found a T-shirt to wear. It was her last one, and she knew she'd have to do laundry soon. She carried it back to the bathroom to change and briefly considered sleeping in the tub, but how silly would that be?

She stepped out and stood at the connecting doors, looking at Mac's sleeping form in one bed and Dirk's in the other. It would serve Mac right, she thought, taking a step toward the other room, if she went to sleep with Dirk.

"Don't even think about it." His deep voice rumbled; a warm caress on a chilly night.

"I thought you were asleep." Embarrassed, she turned to face him.

"No. I was waiting for you."

"You were?"

"Yeah." He flipped back the bedcovers beside him. "Come here."

Her gaze locked on his, and she walked to him as if drawn. Self-consciously, she climbed in beside him, all too aware that beneath the covers, he was totally bare.

She lay stiffly, waiting as he pulled the covers up over her. Beside her, Mac turned to face her, stretching out his lower arm and then pulling her into his embrace.

"Relax, baby," he whispered, drawing her close so that her head rested in the crook of his chest and arm. "I just want to hold you."

He closed his eyes then and gave a contented sigh. Soon, the rhythm of his breathing grew deeper and slower so that Lanie was slightly surprised, and disappointed, to discover that he really had fallen asleep.

She was trying to decide if she felt insulted or not, then realized that she was too tired to care. She let herself relax and snuggled closer. Nightmares of the fire, her desperate search for Mac, and the nearly crippling fear that they'd all die failed to surface, and she slept better than she had in a long time.

Clint noticed the difference as soon as he rose the next evening. The psychic bond that linked him to the others was so faint, it was barely detectable—but it was still there and Clint breathed a sigh of relief.
She
was still alive.

He rose and turned to see Gem standing over him, watching him. When their eyes met, Clint noticed the little one's eyes seemed cloudy and troubled. Standing, he rubbed the stiffness of the cold floor from his limbs and then went to check on the adult. Normally, she would be awake by now, but this morning Clint found her still in her stonelike state. He didn't have time to smile because at that moment Lance burst into the room, clearly upset.

"What the hell is going on?" he demanded, just before his gaze fell on the stone chupacabra. His eyes narrowed as he shot Clint a look. "Why isn't it awake?"

"I'm not sure, but I think she's dead."

Lance appeared shocked at the pronouncement, and he went up to the creature and laid a hand against the cool, hard skin. He stood that way for a moment and then let his hand fall back to his side. "Damn it. I wasn't done." His eyes flickered to the baby, and Clint stepped into his visual path to distract him.

"She isn't big enough to convert a human into a vampire."

"How long before it is?"

"Based on her rate of growth over the past six months, I'd guess in about twenty years."

"Twenty years?" Lance's mouth dropped open. "You're kidding me, right?"

"No."

"Great, just great. How many vials of the adult venom do you have?"

"Just one," Clint lied.

"Give it to me—and the synthetic stuff you've been working on!"

Clint didn't have to mask his concern. "It's still unstable."

"I don't give a damn. Give me what you have. It'll have to do."

Reluctantly, Clint took the two vials from his backpack, carefully avoiding thought of the third vial, and handed them to Lance, hoping he'd have a chance to get them back later. Though the synthetic venom wasn't perfect, he felt it was close enough that it might be able to convert a dead human to a vampire—for a while. That made two more possible recruits for Lance's growing army.

"We'll have to proceed with the team we have in place," Lance said, crossing over to the cooler where the blood was stored. He pulled out several bags before heading for the door. "You'll need to collect more bags while we're gone." He glared at Clint one final time and then stormed out, calling to the other men as he went.

The order put Clint in a quandary. He didn't want to leave the adult unattended, but if he didn't collect blood, Lance would know he was up to something and frankly, despite going behind Lance's back, Clint was afraid of what the man would do to him.

He grabbed Gem and his backpack, and after leaving several bags of dog's blood on the floor in case the adult woke while he was gone, he left.

He made good time to the collection site where he found a small gathering of homeless men and women waiting for him. He worked quickly, not taking the time to chat with everyone.

Four hours later, when he had enough blood to satisfy Lance, he packed up everything and hurried back to the lair, hoping that no one had arrived before him and found the chupacabra awake, which he prayed she was. He couldn't possibly move her by himself.

When he reached the lair, he noticed that the others, thankfully, had not yet returned. Eager to check on the adult, he rushed into his room and stopped short, his jaw falling open.

The three bags of dog's blood were empty, and the adult chupacabra was gone.