No, you just hang out the passenger window with your tongue waving in the wind. Proud of his restraint for only thinking his latest dog joke instead of speaking it, he folded his arms across his chest. "Fine, we'll have to stay somewhere during daylight hours." Max eyed the cigar box on his nightstand. It held about two thousand dollars in cash. That would be enough to buy her food, bribe someone for extra blood if he ran out, and put them up, "Are you still packed?"

"I do not travel with much." A strange expression crossed her face, something between sadness and anger. She shook it off with a laugh. "I do not have much."

For some bizarre reason, he wanted to ask her why that was, why she didn't have a closet stuffed with clothes and enough makeup to whore up a whole brothel—not that she needed it—but he couldn't form the words. She'd made it clear to him they were separate entities and would remain so just about forever. That kind of distance didn't invite the free exchange of personal information.

Not that Max was interested in that touchy-feely crap, anyway. They had a job to do, and it would be a lot easier if they both ignored the fact they'd made the dirty bad fun.

An unwanted image of her flushed, sweat-dampened face contorted in a grimace of pleasure filled his mind. He could almost taste the salt on her skin, feel her hips pushing up beneath him—

"I'd like to leave at sundown. After we talk to Nathan and Carrie," he blurted, to clear the vision from his mind. The last thing he needed was a sudden, reckless spate of sexual hallucinations.

"Yes, I am interested to hear how Cyrus has fared since I saw him last." Bella said these words as if Cyrus was a friend who'd recently moved out of town, not a soulless killing machine.

Max had never actually felt his eyes bug out before, and he hoped he would never feel it again. "Why the hell do you care?"

She frowned at him, as if he was the one being weird and irrational. "Because I have thought of him and worried about him. Is that so wrong?"

"Um, yeah," Max exploded. "He's a murderer!"

"Former murderer," she pointed out, rolling her eyes. "You sound very much like Nathan."

Max scowled at her. "Usually, that comment would get you decked. Luckily for you—"

"You do not hit women?" she finished for him. He shook his head. "No. I was going to say, 'Luckily for you, I'm on Nathan's side on this one.' Ever compare me to him again and I'll pop you one."

"You are much too hard on him." She unzipped the duffel bag and pulled out two T-shirts. "These look horrible on you."