Abigail woke up to find herself still in Tomasso’s lap, slumped against his chest, her back complaining at the position. Grimacing, she eased carefully away from him to sit up, then froze, her eyes widening with horror.

There was blood everywhere. At least she, Tomasso, and the bed were covered with it. Recalling the still half-full bag of blood that had been at her mouth when they’d . . . finished what they were doing last night, Abigail glanced around for it and found the torn bag on the bed next to them. It had either exploded from the pressure of her clamping her mouth around it when they’d found their release, or it had got torn and splashed everywhere.

At least it was only on them and the bed and hadn’t splashed on the walls or something, Abigail told herself with a grimace as she eased off of Tomasso’s lap to stand beside the bed.

“No more sex while feeding,” she muttered to herself as she tried to decide what to do. The blood was dry and sticky and Tomasso was still sleeping. She couldn’t possibly clean it up without waking him. Grimacing, she shifted from one foot to the other, then sighed and turned to head into the bathroom.

She’d take a shower and clean herself up, and then see if Tomasso was awake, Abigail decided, crossing the bathroom without daring to look in the mirror. She didn’t want to see the horror she no doubt was. She probably looked like a slasher victim with the dried blood everywhere. It was even in her hair, she noted as she brushed a stiff strand behind her ear.

Shaking her head, Abigail opened the shower door and turned on the taps, thinking that she’d never in her life imagined starting a day like this. Certainly as a child, she’d never daydreamed about growing up, becoming a vampire, and waking up encrusted in dry blood.

The moment the water was warm enough, Abigail stepped under the spray to let it start doing its work. Cleaning off dry blood turned out to be much harder than you would think. Some of it washed away quickly enough, but some seemed to cling determinedly and it took some serious scrubbing and three shampoos to get it all off her skin and out of her hair. Abigail managed eventually, though, and stepped out to quickly dry off, then wrapped the towel around herself to return to the bedroom.

Tomasso was still sleeping, although she wasn’t sure how he could be in that position. He was slumped upright, with his back against the headboard and his head bent and resting on his chest.

Someone was going to have a crick in his neck when he woke up, she decided, and then wondered if the nanos would allow for that kind of thing, or prevent it. Her back had hurt when she’d first woken up, but that pain had been gone by the time she reached the bathroom door.

Yay nanos! Abigail thought wryly and moved to the closet to pick another sundress. Today she chose a baby-blue one with white polka dots. She also found the panties in the drawer where Mary had said they would be. There was no bra though, but then with her amazing new gravity-defying boobs, she could get away without one, Abigail thought as she carried everything into the bathroom to dress.

With no need for makeup, she was finished getting ready in maybe a minute and a half, two minutes tops, then she returned to the bedroom to find Tomasso still sleeping. Abigail paused and shifted her feet briefly, wondering if she shouldn’t wake him. She was sure it would be less alarming than him waking up alone in a bloody bed later. But then she sighed and headed for the door instead. Abigail didn’t know about him, but she could get pretty cranky when someone woke her from a deep sleep. It was better to just let him rest.

“And that decision has absolutely nothing to do with your suddenly feeling shy about the way you were bouncing around on his pogo stick last night,” Abigail muttered as she left the room.

The living/dining area was empty when she crossed through it and Abigail was just beginning to think everyone else was up and had gone down to the restaurant for breakfast when she stepped into the kitchen and spotted Justin by a coffeepot that was giving off the most delicious scents. There was another man seated at the kitchen island, with his back to her. It wasn’t Dante or Lucian though. Abigail followed the scent of coffee around the island, glancing curiously to the newcomer as she went, and then came to a stumbling halt.

“Jet?” she said with surprise . . . and not a little guilt. She’d left him down at the bar with Lucian, who she was quite sure could not be trusted, and hadn’t given him a thought since. She so sucked as a friend.

“Morning, Abs.” He grinned at her easily, looking completely relaxed and happy.

Abigail was less so. Her gaze shifted to Justin to give him a look of reprimand as she wondered why he hadn’t come to let her know her friend was here. Then she glanced back to Jet and said, “I’m sorry. I didn’t know you were here. When did you arrive?”

“Last night,” he said on a laugh.

“What?” she asked with confusion.

“I slept here, Abs,” Jet said with amusement, and then explained, “When Lucian learned I couldn’t get a room in the area, he suggested I stay here too. I bunked with Justin.”

“Oh,” Abigail said weakly, her eyes now returning to Justin with concern as she worried that Jet might have been a midnight snack.

“There are twin beds in my room,” Justin said with a shrug and then added dryly, “And he’s fine. Completely unmolested.”

When Abigail flushed guiltily, Jet frowned and glanced from one to the other. “What? You were concerned for my virtue?” he asked on a disbelieving laugh. “Abs, I can take care of myself. Besides, Justin’s as straight as I am. He has a girlfriend named Holly. Apparently, she’s a goddess,” he added with a teasing glance at Justin.

“She is,” Justin assured him, and then set down the coffee he’d just made and headed for the door. “I’m going to call her. Be back in a minute.”

They watched him leave and then Jet glanced back to her in question. “Is there something I should know?”

“What?” she asked with alarm, and then turned quickly away, busying herself with fetching a cup and pouring coffee to avoid his gaze. “No. Don’t be silly.”

“Are you sure? ’Cause you seemed a little freaked out that I’d shared a room with Justin.”

“No,” Abigail muttered, adding cream and sugar to her cup and stirring. When she finally turned to see Jet eyeing her closely, she grimaced and moved around the island to sit on the stool next to his and shrugged. “I don’t really know these people. I mean, I know Tomasso, obviously, and Dante and Mary seem nice, but I’m not sure about Lucian and Justin is all.”

“Hmm.” Jet took a sip of coffee, set his cup back and then said, “Well, I only met them last night, but they both seem okay to me. Justin is . . .” He paused, considering his words, and then said, “Well, he seems a bit of a smart-ass, but I think he has a good heart, and he definitely loves his girl. The guy couldn’t stop talking about her. He’s really missing her.”

“That’s sweet,” Abigail murmured, her lips curving into a small smile.

“As for Lucian . . .”

She stiffened and glanced to him worriedly.

“He rocks.”

“What?” she gasped with amazement.

“Yeah,” Jet said excitedly. “He’s arranging to have the plane returned to my boss, Bob, and he’s going to take care of the criminal charges too. He guaranteed there wouldn’t be any. And,” he added, positively beaming now, “he hired me.”

“Hired you?” Abigail asked with bewilderment. “What for?”

“To be a pilot, what else?” he said on a laugh.

“Really?” she asked with surprise.

“Yeah, Lucian is one of the Argeneau Enterprises Argeneaus,” Jet announced as if that should mean something to her. When it obviously didn’t, he clucked his tongue and explained, “Every pilot on the planet knows the name and would kill to work for them. Hell, some guys send resumes monthly just in the hopes that there will be an opening.”

“Why?” Abigail asked with curiosity.

“It’s a cushy, cushy job, Abs,” he said seriously. “The pay is killer, and the benefits top-notch.”

“Oh,” Abigail murmured, but then frowned with confusion. She’d never heard of Argeneau Enterprises. “So he owns some kind of airline?”

“No, no.” Jet waved the suggestion away. “Argeneau Enterprises is the mother company of a bunch of businesses situated in Canada, the US, and Europe. They have some techno companies, financial businesses, a blood bank even. Mostly the planes are to fly executives and other VIP type people around.” Expression serious, he said, “This is more than a cushy job, Abs. It’s an awesome opportunity, and I owe it all to you.”

“Me?” she squawked with surprise.

“Well, I never would have met them if not for you,” he pointed out. “And Mr. Argeneau doesn’t know me from Adam, so he must have hired me because of my connection to you.”

“Right,” Abigail murmured, wondering what the hell Lucian’s game was. Tomasso had said they’d probably control Jet’s mind, change his memories and send him back to his life. Yet Lucian had hired him instead? And not only that, but invited him to actually stay here? In the villa? With six vampires—or immortals as they preferred to be called—and who knew how many coolers of blood lying around? The one in the room she shared with Tomasso could not be the only one.

What was Lucian thinking? What if Jet saw something?

“Life’s weird, huh?” Jet said suddenly.

Abigail glanced at him in question.

“Yesterday about this time my life was hell,” he explained, shaking his head with bemusement. “I’d been fired, was under the threat of being thrown in jail when I returned to America, and was worried sick about you. Hell, my life was in the shitter,” he said on a wry laugh, and then continued, “But now, less than twenty-four hours later, everything’s coming up roses. I found you, you’re safe, the criminal charges are going away and I got a sweet ass job that is every pilot’s dream.”

Abigail let her breath out on a little sigh. When he put it like that, things did seem good. She just hoped they continued to seem that way. Managing a smile, she slid her arm through his and leaned her head on his shoulder in a sort of arm hug thing and said sincerely, “I’m glad for you, Jet. I hope it works out.”

“Yeah.” Jet slid his arm from hers and wrapped it around her shoulder instead to hug her more properly against his side, then complained, “You lost way too much weight. There’s hardly anything to hug.”

Abigail straightened with a grimace. “Dengue will do that to you,” she said wryly, despite knowing it was only part of the reason behind her weight loss.

“Yeah, but you look different too,” Jet said with a frown, his eyes narrowing on hers.

Abigail blinked and then turned forward so he couldn’t see her eyes. They used to be green, and still were, but with little flecks of silver in them. She was guessing that had something to do with the nanos since she’d noticed the same flecks in the eyes of the others.

“I think I’m kind of insulted that it took you so long to notice the weight loss last night,” she said to distract him.

“I noticed right away,” Jet protested and then made a face and admitted, “Well, not right away, but I did notice before I got the tiki torch. I just didn’t want to hurt your feelings by pointing out that you looked sickly.”

“Oh, piss off,” Abigail muttered, knowing he was just being his usual PITA self. PITA meaning a Pain In The Ass.

Jet chuckled softly and took a sip of coffee, and then asked, “So? What about you?”

Abigail glanced at him in question. “What about me?”

“Well, I wasn’t the only one bunking with someone last night,” he said heavily. “And I’m betting that room you shared with Tomasso doesn’t have twin beds. What’s going on there? Do I need to pop him?”

“No, of course not,” Abigail said flushing. She turned her face away and picked up her coffee. “He’s . . . We’re . . .”

“Hooking up?” Jet suggested when she fell silent.

Abigail clucked her tongue with irritation, and asked, “How do you know where I slept?”

“Because Justin gave me a tour of the place last night when Lucian brought me back and he showed me the guest bathroom near the entry, then the living/dining room and pointed to the door off of it and said—and I’m quoting here—” Jet added dryly, “‘That’s the door to the master bedroom, Tomasso and Abigail sleep there.’”

Abigail closed her eyes. The master bedroom and a powder room were the only rooms on the main floor besides the kitchen and the living/dining room combo. The rest of the bedrooms were on the second floor.

“So?” Jet asked, nudging her with his arm. “What gives? Are you two shacking up? Is it serious? You’re using protection, right?”

Abigail stilled, the cup slipping from her fingers and dropping the two inches to the counter with a thump that sent coffee sloshing over the rim. Jet jumped up and ran around the island to grab paper towels.

“I’ll take that as a no you aren’t using protection,” Jet said grimly as he returned and began to mop up her mess.

Abigail met his gaze, her eyes wide with dismay. She hadn’t thought of it. Not once. She hadn’t thought of protection at all. STDs weren’t a concern now that she knew about the nanos, but what about babies? She and Tomasso had had sex . . . well, fortunately only twice. The rest of the times they’d been together they hadn’t actually copulated. But it only took one time to get pregnant and Tomasso was so damn big and sexy and virile and . . .

“Oh damn,” Abigail breathed.

“Okay, breathe,” Jet muttered, finishing with her mess and throwing away the paper towel. He came around the island and rubbed her back, his gaze full of concern. “It’s not the end of the world. It’s probably okay. I mean you’ve been super sick, so it’s not like you two could have been going at it like bunnies this last week, so you’ve messed around—what? Last night? So once?”

“Twice,” she muttered, rubbing her forehead with agitation. “Last night and before I got sick.”

“Seriously?” he asked with dismay. “What did you do? Wake up on the beach and jump him?”

“Oh, jeez,” Abigail muttered, dropping her face into her hands.

“I’m not judging,” Jet continued. “But it just doesn’t seem like you to bang some guy you just met. Hell, you punched Jimmy Coldsten for trying to grope you on your second date.”

“I was twelve years old,” Abigail pointed out with exasperation. “And we hadn’t even kissed or anything. He just reached out and started squeezing like it was a bike horn that was going to honk.”

“Yeah.” Jet shook his head with a wince at the memory. “I’m betting the Italian Stallion has smoother moves than that, huh?”

“His name is Tomasso,” Abigail growled and stood up.

“Where are we going?” Jet asked, keeping step with her as she moved out of the kitchen and headed for the front door.

“I need some fresh air to clear my head,” she muttered, and then frowned and added, “And something to eat. I’m hungry.”

“Good thinking,” Jet said, opening the front door for her. “I’m hungry too.”

Abigail merely grunted, and led the way outside.

“Do you think we should call for a car?” Jet asked with concern after pulling the villa door closed. “You’ve been pretty sick. The walk might be a bit much for you.”

“I’m fine,” she said firmly. “I can manage the walk.”

Jet didn’t comment, just fell into step with her as she started along the road.

Neither of them said anything at first. Abigail’s mind was racing with the realization that she might that very moment be carrying Tomasso’s child. The possibility was an alarming one. While Tomasso kept mentioning this life mate business, she still had no idea what it meant, and while immortals might do things differently, Abigail thought like a mortal, and this was only the start of their relationship. Way too soon to be bringing babies into the equation. Hell, call her old-fashioned, but she would have liked to be married before even having to worry about babies.

How the hell could she have had sex with Tomasso without protection? She! Who had always been all about protection before this?

The answer was simple enough. Abigail lost her head when Tomasso was around. All it took was a touch or a kiss and she melted like ice cream dropped on a hot sidewalk. Hell, even a look or a few words from him could make her wet. The man was a menace to her poor brain.

“It’ll be all right, Abs,” Jet said, rubbing one hand up and down her back reassuringly. “I’m sure you’re not pregnant. But if you are, and Tom-boy refuses to step up, you’ve got me. I’ll help. We’ll deal with it together. Heck, I’ve always wanted to be uncle Jet and since I don’t have any actual brothers or sisters, that means you have to produce my nieces and nephews for me.”

Abigail smiled faintly and let her shoulders relax. She then slipped an arm around Jet’s waist to hug him briefly with appreciation as she admitted, “I really missed you after you went off to join the navy.”

“Yeah, trust me, I missed you too,” he said wryly. “The navy was definite culture shock after spending my days running around with you.”

Abigail chuckled and then wrinkled her nose as his beard prickled her forehead. Straightening, she eyed the short beard and mustache covering his handsome features and asked, “What’s up with the facial hair? Going for a new look?”

“Oh.” Jet rubbed his bewhiskered chin with a grimace and shook his head. “No. Can’t wait to shave this off, really.” Then glancing to her, he added, “I wasn’t planning on the Caracas flight so didn’t have my bag with me when we flew out of San Antonio. I figured at the time it would be fine. I’d buy some shorts, a swimsuit, and shaving kit once we hit the ground. But after you went missing I didn’t want to waste the time on shopping, shaving and shit, so . . .” He shrugged, and then let his hand drop away from the new growth on his face and said, “I have to hit the store and buy a razor. I can’t wait to get this scruff off my face.”

“We can do it after breakfast,” Abigail promised.

“Or we could do it first since they’re on the way,” he suggested, catching her hand and tugging her toward the buildings on their right. The mini jungle had only given way to the buildings just moments ago. The stores lined both sides of the laneway and were comprised of everything from expensive jewelry boutiques to a corner-store type affair with snacks, drinks, and travelers’ essentials like mini sewing kits, shaving kits, and sunscreen. Leading her to the corner store, Jet opened the door saying, “That way we don’t forget.”

“If we must,” Abigail muttered, stepping inside when he held the door. “But be quick. I’m so hungry even you’re starting to look tasty.”

Jet chuckled at the words and moved off to find himself a shaving kit. Abigail hung behind near the register, her gaze shifting curiously over the items available. She had picked up some sunscreen when someone tapped her shoulder. Turning, she glanced around, her eyes widening when she saw Mary behind her.

“Hey, hi,” Abigail greeted the other woman with a smile. Then she held up the sunscreen and asked, “Do I need this now?”

“It can’t hurt,” Mary said wryly. “But apparently we do better just to stay out of direct sunlight. The more sun you get the more damage your skin takes.”

“Right,” Abigail murmured and decided she’d buy the sunscreen. Turning her full attention to Mary then, she smiled and said, “I thought you guys were still sleeping when we left.”

“Oh, is Tomasso with you?” Mary asked, glancing around.

“No. He was still sleeping. Jet and I came down alone.” She hesitated, considering confiding her concerns about pregnancy to Mary, but then let it go and simply said, “We were going to grab some breakfast, but Jet wanted to buy a shaving kit first.”

Mary smiled. “Dante said Lucian offered him a job and invited him to stay at the villa. I’ll have to remember to congratulate him.”

“Yeah, he’s pretty pumped,” Abigail murmured.

“But you’re worried?” Mary suggested.

“A little I guess,” Abigail admitted, and then scowled and said, “I don’t know Lucian very well, but he seems . . .”

“Bossy? Arrogant? A hard-ass?” Mary suggested and Abigail gave a laugh.

“Yes, yes and yes,” she said, her lips twisting.

“You were an only child raised by just your mother, right?” Mary asked.

Abigail raised her eyebrows. “Yeah. Are you reading my mind or just psychic?”

“I can’t read minds yet,” Mary said with amusement, and then said gently, “But Tomasso talked about you nonstop through your turn. He told me that about you, and I was just thinking that maybe, having been raised without a male role model, you find Lucian’s authoritarianism hard to handle.”

“Maybe,” Abigail allowed, and then smiled wryly and said, “I don’t like it when Tomasso gets all bossy either. Fortunately, he doesn’t do that much. Or hasn’t so far.”

Mary nodded. “Well, if it helps, I’m usually a pretty good judge of character and I think Lucian tries to do what’s right for the people he sees as in his care. And I suspect you and Jet have joined those ranks along with the rest of us.”

“Mary?”

They both turned to see Dante approaching. He had eyes only for the petite blonde beside Abigail and was nearly to them before he noticed she was there too.

“Abigail.” He smiled in greeting and glanced around what he could see of the store as he slipped an arm around Mary. “Where is Tomasso?”

“Still sleeping when I left,” she said.

When his eyebrows rose at that, Mary added, “Abigail and Jet walked down by themselves. Jet needed a shaving kit, and then they’re going for breakfast too. We should go together.”

Dante kissed the top of her head. “Sounds good.”

Abigail nodded, and then stopped when she realized she hadn’t thought to leave a note telling Tomasso where she’d gone. Of course she’d been a little upset at the time, still, she should have thought . . . Good Lord, he was going to wake up covered in blood to find her gone, she thought with dismay.

“What is it?” Mary asked.

“She did not leave a note,” Dante said, apparently reading her mind.

“Oh.” Mary frowned. “He’ll worry when he wakes up to find her gone.”

“Yes, and I have not replaced my cell phone yet,” Dante murmured, and then shrugged and said, “I will have to go back.”

“Oh,” Mary said with disappointment, and Abigail was thinking the disappointment was because he was going to leave, but Dante’s next words cleared up that matter.

“You do not have to wait on us. I know you are hungry,” Dante said, pressing a kiss to Mary’s cheek. “Go to the restaurant and start. We will be along shortly.” He turned to start away, and then paused to glance back and add, “Make sure you get a table big enough for all of us.”

Dante waited for Mary and Abigail to nod, before turning away again.

He’d barely slipped out of the store when Jet appeared beside Abigail, as excited as a puppy.

“Abs! Look at these. They’re just like the sunglasses you had in high school.”

“Oh, man,” Abigail said with a laugh, taking the neon-pink sunglasses he was holding out. “They are,” she agreed, “but it was grade seven, not high school.”

“Whatever,” Jet said with a grin. “Put them on. I bought them for you.”

Abigail laughed, but slid the glasses on and raised her eyebrows up and down. “What do you think? Am I stylin’?”

“They look—Oh, hey, Mary, right?” Jet interrupted himself to say as he noticed the blonde. Glancing around, he asked, “Where’s . . .”

“Dante,” Mary supplied gently when he hesitated.

“Yeah. Dante. Sorry,” Jet apologized sincerely. “Last night was a bit surreal what with finding Abs and all and then meeting everyone.”

“I understand,” Mary said with a smile and then added, “I hear congratulations are in order. Lucian hired you?”

“Yeah.” He grinned. “I’m pretty chuffed. Can’t wait to start.”

“Well, you’re gonna have to, ’cause I’m hungry and want to go get something to eat,” Abigail said a bit impatiently. “Did you get what you needed?”

“Bought and paid for,” he assured her, holding up a small plastic bag. “We can go hunt up some grub now.”

“Good. Mary’s coming with us,” Abigail announced and then answered his earlier question, saying, “Dante was with her but went back to let the others know where we are and bring them along to join us for breakfast. But we can go over now and at least get our orders started.”

“Awesome,” Jet said, placing a hand on each of their backs and urging them toward the door.

“You won’t have to order,” Mary commented as they slipped out of the store. “Breakfast here is buffet style. Just grab a plate and go.”

“Oh,” Abigail murmured, a little disappointed.

“No, it’s a good buffet,” Mary assured her. “We came down yesterday and the day before and I swear they have a twelve-foot table full of just pastries alone. There’s another just for bacon and sausages and stuff, and an egg station, and—”

“A twelve-foot table of bacon and sausage?” Jet asked with interest.

Mary nodded. “There were a good six or eight varieties of sausage too.”

“Oh my gawd, I love this place,” Jet groaned. “I’m going to fill four plates with sausage alone.”

Both women chuckled, but Abigail said, “I might do that myself. I’m absolutely starving this morning.”

“Abigail?” Mary said suddenly, and when she glanced her way, Mary made a slight grimace and asked, “Have you had your . . . medicine this morning?”

Noting where Mary’s gaze was focused, Abigail glanced down and saw that she was rubbing her tummy, unconsciously trying to massage away the cramps that were eating away at her stomach. The sight immediately brought an image to mind of Tomasso doing the same thing. She knew now it was because he’d needed blood.

Biting her lip, Abigail glanced back to Mary and shook her head. “Not this morning. But I had four bags last night,” she added quickly, and then recalling the blood all over her and Tomasso and the bed this morning, Abigail grimaced and muttered, “Or three and a half.”

“Four bags of medicine?” Jet asked with bewilderment. “What kind of medicine comes in bags?”

“They put the pills in sealed bags here to keep the moisture from them,” Abigail lied, quite impressed that she’d thought so quickly.

“Oh,” Jet muttered, seeming to accept the explanation.

“Maybe we should go back to the villa so you can take your medicine,” Mary suggested. “It will only take a minute, and it’s better than taking the risk.”

“Mary’s right,” Jet agreed. “You wouldn’t want a relapse of dengue.”

Abigail frowned. It wasn’t dengue Mary was worried about. She was afraid she’d suddenly sprout her fangs and might bite someone. Probably Jet, Abigail acknowledged. He smelled oddly good to her again, and he hadn’t when she’d first found him in the kitchen.

Throwing her hands up in defeat, Abigail turned and started back the way they’d come. She was pretty irritated by the need to do so though. This immortal business was turning out to be a bit of a pain in the butt without much in the way of benefits so far, she thought crankily and then almost smiled at the stupidity of that thought. One of the benefits was being alive, and that was one hell of a benefit.

“Come on, cheer up,” Jet said coaxingly after a moment. “It’s just a little delay.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Abigail said and managed a smile. She was only cranky because she was hungry and the blood would probably help ease that a bit anyway.

“Miss Forsythe?”

Pausing at the end of the commercial area, Abigail glanced around with confusion and stiffened as she was nearly run down by two men who had been walking behind them. However, the men quickly stepped to the sides to move around their group, saving them all an awkward moment.

“It is you!”

Abigail shifted her gaze to the rotund little man bustling across the lane toward them. She had no idea who he was, but he did look vaguely familiar, she thought, as she watched him hurry their way.

“You cannot know how happy I was that your friend was able to get you to a hospital during the storm.” Reaching her, the mustachioed man caught one of her hands in both of his and squeezed enthusiastically. “When I left that night, I felt sure my next call back would be to pronounce you dead. But no! He found a jeep and got you to help despite the storm! And they were able to treat you! Now look at you!” he added with a wide smile. “Out and about and enjoying the sunshine.”

“Dr. Cortez!” Abigail blurted suddenly as his name came to her. It was the doctor Tomasso had called in. The one who had told him to pray and say his good-byes. Obviously he’d seen the man since then and convinced him that he’d been able to save her. But then, what else could he do? Tell him he’d turned her into a vampire?

“Sì! Sì! You remember me!” Cortez said happily, regaining her attention. Clucking his tongue he confided, “I was not sure you would. The fever had you in its grip each time I saw you, though you did have a lucid moment or two.” He shook his head. “Dengue fever is nothing to trifle with, but few have it turn into dengue hemorrhagic fever and suffer as you did. I am really most pleased to see you well and able to enjoy the end of your vacation.”

“Oh, yes.” Abigail smiled. “Thank you. That’s very kind of you to say.”

“Not at all,” he assured her, then squeezed her hand. “Now you have fun. But stay away from mosquitoes,” he added firmly, giving her hand a shake with both of his on each word. “You are now immune to one of the dengue viruses, but there are three more that you will not be immune to, and it is always worse the second time around.”

“Oh dear,” Abigail said weakly, wondering how it could possibly be worse than what she’d suffered. It made her glad Tomasso had turned her and she needn’t fear things like that anymore.

“I shall let you go now,” Cortez said abruptly, releasing her hand. “I am on my way to see a patient. Have a lovely day!”

“Yes. Thank you. You too,” Abigail called as he bustled off as quickly as he’d appeared.

“What a nice man,” Mary said as they turned to start into the mini jungle between the commercial area and the villa.

“He seems to be. I don’t remember much about when I was sick, but I do remember his worried face bending over me. I thought that expression might be a really bad sign,” Abigail said wryly.

“Yeah, it’s always a bad sign when the doc looks worried,” Jet agreed, his voice solemn.

“Hmm,” Abigail murmured, and then glanced to Jet with surprise when he stumbled beside her and started to fall. She managed to catch his arm, but he still would have hit the ground if Mary hadn’t caught his other arm. “Jet? Are you—?”

“He’s fine. Or will be.”

Abigail glanced over Jet’s shoulders to see two men standing close behind Jet, one with a gun in his hand.