Sarah McCarty (8 page)
“Says who?”
“Says me.”
“What gives you the authority to be barking orders?”
She looked around, seeing nothing but weeds, trash, and woods. “The fact that I can walk in the sun.”
The next grunt
was
weaker. Jane looked over her shoulder. Slade was lying on his back on the seat, hands over his face. Blisters populated the red, angry flesh of his skin. All that from the few weak rays of the sun that permeated the tinted interior? Damn!
was
weaker. Jane looked over her shoulder. Slade was lying on his back on the seat, hands over his face. Blisters populated the red, angry flesh of his skin. All that from the few weak rays of the sun that permeated the tinted interior? Damn!
He slid his hands away from his face. “Caleb is going love you.”
“Who is Caleb?”
“My brother.” His voice was barely audible.
Opening the glove compartment, she saw a flashlight, but no gun. She really would have preferred the gun. Unfortunately, her survival instincts weren’t what they should be. She’d left it at the lab when Slade had grabbed her. Damn it. She snatched up the flashlight and eased the front door open, using her body to block the light, doing her best to shield him from the insidious rays of the sun. It spilled around her as if she were no barrier to anything at all. Damn, she hated feeling helpless.
“Good to know, in the unlikely event we ever meet.”
“You’ll meet. I’m insisting on it.”
“Is he also a vampire?”
“Yes.”
“Then don’t count on it.”
She closed the front door. He said something she couldn’t make out. She stopped, just in time, from opening the back door and asking, “What?” Placing her hand against the window, wishing she could see through the dark glass, she asked, “Just how hurt are you?”
“I’ll be fine if I get some rest.”
He needed rest. Protection from the sun. Jane couldn’t take her hand from the window. Couldn’t break the fragile connection. Another bit of vampire lore that had an anchor in reality. That no woman could resist them. “Playing the hero takes a lot out of you, huh?”
“It can be hard work.”
She bet. “Do you do it often?”
No response.
“Slade?”
Damn. Had he passed out? Another glance around showed no sign of movement in the early morning light. Hopefully, it would take forever for the werewolves to find them, and hopefully, she’d be long dead from old age by the time that particular bit of folklore became part of her reality.
She headed for the barn doors. The chain was not a good sign. Though heavily rusted, it still looked strong enough to fend off her efforts. Her only hope was that the lock wasn’t very strong. A tug proved it was stronger than the muscles in her hands and arms. Which was not saying much. When she went to the gym, she pretty much did the treadmill and ignored everything else. She yanked the lock again. Maybe she should have worked more with the weight machines. Then again, muscle wasn’t everything. She grabbed a piece of metal pipe from the pile of brush and trash at the side of the building. Innovation could often make up the difference.
Swinging the pipe, she banged on the lock. Once. Twice. The force resonated around her. So loud. She looked down the road. There were no other houses in sight, but who knew what was beyond the trees. Or for that matter, in the trees. This was not a situation to give a body a warm fuzzy. She needed to get them hidden, and fast. Taking a firmer grip on the pipe, she stabbed downward. Metal clanked. And there might have been just a bit of give in the mechanism. Give would be good about now. She’d had enough problems in the last few hours.
Four more tries, each blow ringing like a warning shot through the early dawn, and the lock gave. Hallelujah! She dropped the pipe on the ground, grabbed the lock, and untangled it from the rusty chain, staining her hands and clothes orange. Great. She’d just bought this shirt.
No matter how quietly she tried to slide the chain through the door handles, it made an ungodly racket. As it clanked its way to the ground, she bit her lip and froze. The hairs on her arms prickled. Her breath stilled. Who had heard the raucous sound? Seconds passed like hours as she waited for the attack. Her lungs ached for air and it still didn’t come. Maybe they’d truly escaped.
There are werewolves, too
. . .
. . .
Releasing her breath, Jane reached for the handle. Her hands shook like leaves, making the simple move almost impossible. They weren’t safe. They had fricking werewolves to worry about. Of course, because everyone knew vampires weren’t enough.
“I hate you,” she muttered in Slade’s direction. Kicking clods of dirt out of the way, she hauled the doors across the uneven ground. She hid behind the door for a second, just in case any four-legged inhabitants decided to take a shot at freedom. The one thing she didn’t need was to end up in the emergency room, getting rabies shots. She checked the top of the doorjamb. She also didn’t need a heart attack from a spider dropping on her head. The wisps of web floating about looked old and flimsy. No self-respecting spider would take up residence in them. She pulled open the second door without incident. Maybe her luck was turning.
It was dark inside the structure. Dark enough to make her uneasy. Dark enough to make Slade happy. At least she hoped that was all it would take to make him happy. Grabbing the flashlight from her waistband, she shone it into the interior. It was a big hollow place made even bigger by the dark corners. Too dark corners. A flick of the flashlight revealed why. The two side windows were painted black. Probably to discourage burglars, but it suited her purposes.
“Perfect.” The place was about perfect.
Against the far back wall there were two stalls with a large, built-in metal and wooden box between them. The box could be her salvation. She hurried over, that sense of urgency still pushing at her. It didn’t look as big close up, but—she glanced back at the car—if Slade could tuck his knees to his chin, he might fit. A sunbeam slipped through the cracks of the old structure and tickled the corner of the box. As the sun rose, there would be more stray beams. That box would be Slade’s sanctuary. All she had to do was get him there.
Hurrying back to the car, the sense of danger looming right along with her panic, Jane made her mental list. First and foremost she had to get Slade in the box. Then she had to hide the car. Lastly, she had to hide any sign they’d been there. No problem.
Maybe not joining the Girl Scouts in her youth had been a mistake. Her outdoor skills were at an abysmal low. With another quick glance around—she was beginning to feel like the need was a tic—she eased open the driver door.
“We’re in luck.”
“That would be a nice change.”
Yes it would. Sunbeams battled to invade the car. Jane imagined she could smell flesh burning. “Are you okay back there.”
“Just toasty.”
“Now is not the time for jokes.”
“You tell me when there is a better one.”
She shook her head and smiled despite herself. “After I get you in the box.”
“A box?”
She turned the key in the ignition. The engine purred to life. “Don’t sound so freaked. Don’t vampires sleep in coffins?”
“Only in the movies.”
The car eased forward. “So what do you sleep in?”
There was a pause before he answered, and when he did, his voice rose and fell in an uneven cadence. “A nice big bed.”
Jane inched the vehicle forward. It was going to be a tight fit through the doorway. “A vampire who loves his creature comforts, eh?”
“Damn straight.”
The right mirror caught on the jamb and snapped against the car frame as it was designed to do. She jumped anyway. “Well, since the sun isn’t having any trouble coming through the space between the wood, you need to be somewhere safer than this SUV”
Material scraped against leather. Warm breath stroked her neck.
“You’re not damaging my truck are you?”
She gripped the steering wheel, irritation flashing through her at her reaction to that incidental caress. Being turned on in this situation would make her the cliché she simply refused to be—the sex-starved researcher.
Air woofed past her ear in a grunt of pain, or a chuckle. Again, as with everything about this man, it was hard to tell. “The one thing I don’t need right now is a backseat driver.”
“You’re doing fine.”
She glanced over her shoulder, took in the impression of Slade’s profile, absorbed that ever so pleasing scent that surrounded him, and flexed her fingers. “If that’s the case, you should be more focused on your preference for comfort than on my driving.”
Several small breaths puffed past her ear. Definitely a chuckle. Even under pain and pressure, the man could find humor. Was there anything about him that wasn’t pleasing? “Just how small is this box.”
She pulled up as close as she could to the stall and to the right of the box before killing the lights. “Let’s just say that I hope you’re very limber.”
He groaned.
“I’m taking that as a yes.”
“Take it as whatever you want.” Leather creaked as he sat back. She hopped out of the car. “It isn’t safe for you here.”
She went around to the back door. “I’m getting the impression that it isn’t safe for me anywhere.”
She opened the door. His hand caught hers, the hard calluses on the palm rough against her skin. A shiver went through her as his gaze met hers.
“You need to get in that car and drive like hell out of here.”
“Because the wolves are coming.”
“Yes.”
She stood back, giving him room to come out. “I don’t believe you.”
“The hell you don’t.”
She’d always been a lousy liar. “Do you realize that you swear a lot when you’re upset?”
The only thing to come out of the back of the SUV was his growl. “Do you realize that you change the subject when you don’t like the way a conversation is going?”
“Yes. It’s called ‘being tactful.’”
“I’d call it ‘running away.’”
He would. The man seemed to love conflict.
“I beg to differ. May I ask you a question?”
“Shoot.”
“Do vampires feel pain?”
“All vampire senses are heightened.”
She glanced down at his fingers, which were wrapped around her wrist. The ravaged flesh split to the bone. “Then how come you’re not screaming?”
“I’m trying to impress you.”
As if any man oozing that much testosterone needed to worry about impressing a mousy little scientist with zero man-killer skills.
Leaning forward, he cocked his brow and asked, “Is it working?”
Rolling her eyes, she said, “Consider me impressed.”
“Good.” He tugged her forward, into the darkness of the car interior. The hairs on the back of her neck rose in warning. She braced her feet.
“What?” he asked.
“I’ll wait out here.”
“Afraid?”
Even though she couldn’t see it, she bet the arch of his brow was higher. “Not at all. I’ve just got a weak stomach.”
The length of the next pause made her feel guilty. She heard the pass of his hand over the scruff of his beard.
“Guess I do look like something the cat dragged in.”
“You look like you need to be in a hospital,” she countered.
And that was her fault.
“I’ll improve.”
She glanced at the box again. A beam of sunlight from the open doors had reached it. “Wait here.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Amazing how much sarcasm could be put into two syllables. Mr. Slade, whoever he was, did not like taking orders, but that was just tough. Right now she was in charge, and while she didn’t know how long she could maintain that control, it was something she wasn’t giving up. Especially since she gave orders much better than she took them.
Heading back outside, she grabbed the chain and lock from the ground and dragged them back into the barn. Next, she pulled the doors closed, yanking hard when the right one caught on a stone. That intruding beam of sunlight winked out, but others were springing up as the sun rose in the sky. She eyed the chain. It wasn’t much in the way of security, and certainly not against creatures that could catch an SUV traveling at full speed, but it couldn’t hurt to chain the door. The thick, heavy links kept kinking up as she threaded the chain through the handles, but at last she was done and slid the lock through several of the metal loops. Though it wouldn’t latch, the lock would help keep the chain in place. The right door handle sagged as she let the chain go. Hopefully it wouldn’t rip out under the weight. The chain that had looked so substantial before now appeared woefully inadequate as it dangled lopsidedly between the rusted handles. Wiping her hands down her jeans, she sighed. It was going to have to do. She headed for the box.
Slade slung his long legs out of the car. “Hey.”
Stepping over his scuffed boots, she avoided his hand and ordered, “Just stay there a minute.”
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