“I’d keep my mouth shut if I were you,” David said darkly, and I bobbed my head, thoroughly depressed. “My secretary’s perfume is in the glove box. Give your nylons a good spray. The rest of you smells okay.”

I obediently did as he said, my usual hot abhorrence to take direction from someone squelched in that he thought so little of me. The musty scent of the perfume overpowered the car, and David rolled his window down, grimacing. “Well, you did say …” I muttered when the cold air pooled at my ankles.

“It’s going to be quick once we get in there,” David said, his eyes watering. “Your vamp partner has five minutes tops before Saladan gets angry about the claim and kicks us out.”

I held Mrs. Aver’s briefcase on my lap tighter. “She’ll be there.”

David’s only response was a muttered rumble. We wound up a short drive that looped about itself. It had been plowed and swept, and the red clay bricks were damp with snowmelt. At the top of it was a stately house painted white with red shutters and tall, narrow windows. It was one of the few older mansions that had been refurbished without losing its charm. The sun was behind the house, and David parked in the shadows behind a black pickup truck and cut the engine. A curtain at a front window shifted.

“Your name is Grace,” he said. “If they want identification, it’s in your wallet inside your briefcase. Here.” He handed me his glasses. “Wear them.”

“Thanks.” I set the plastic lenses on my nose, learning that David was farsighted. My head started to hurt and I pulled them lower so I could look at the world over them instead of through them. I felt awful, the butterflies in my stomach as heavy as turtles.

A sigh shifted him, and he reached between our seats for his briefcase in the back. “Let’s go.”

Thirty-One

“David Hue,” David said coolly, sounding bored and a little irritated as we stood in the entryway of the old mansion. “I have an appointment.”

I, not we, I thought, keeping my eyes down and trying to stay in the background while Candice, the vamp that had been all over Lee on his boat, cocked her jeans-clad hip and looked at his business card. There were two more vamps behind her in black suits that screamed security. I didn’t mind playing the meek subordinate; if Candice recognized me, it would get really bad, really quick.

“That was me you talked to,” the shapely vampire said around a bothered sigh. “But after the recent ugliness, Mr. Saladan has retired to … a less public environment. He’s not here, much less taking appointments.” Smiling to show her teeth in a politically polite threat, she handed his card back. “I’ll be glad to talk to you, though.”

My heart pounded and I stared at the Italian tile. He was here—I could almost hear the rattle of chips—but if I didn’t get in to see him, this was going to be a lot more difficult.