Rory woke in the front seat of the Packard. A bright light from a nearby building shone in his eyes. Squinting against the glare, he covered them with his hand. When he shifted, a sharp pain burned deep in his side, fully reminding him of his present dilemma.

A soft hand brushed his. “Thank God you’re awake. I was so scared.”

He turned to look. Madelyn smiled, and there was so much compassion on her face, along with a few streaky tears. Joy at seeing her welled to the surface. Before he could stop himself, he muttered, “You’re alive.”

She appeared confused. “I wasn’t shot, you were. Remember?”

He rallied and tried to straighten. “Where are we?”

“Queen of Angels Hospital. We’re parked in the ambulance bay. I didn’t know where else to take you.”

He groaned. Hadn’t she mentioned a motel? “I thought we were going to the beach?”

“Rory, I thought you’d died. I couldn’t even wake you. I didn’t feel a pulse. What was I supposed to do? Don’t be stubborn. You must see a doctor.”

Hoping he sounded as adamant as he felt, his voice cracked. “I need to clean the wound and rest, and I can do that myself.”

“No, you can’t! You’re weak and you could barely walk. My arms are going to ache tomorrow from dragging you to the car.”

“You dragged me?” He knew Madelyn was strong, but apparently she was much stronger than she looked. For some reason he found that amusing. Looking around, he saw they were alone. An ambulance was parked beside them with its rear doors open. “Madelyn, get out and steal the first aid kit.”

“What?” She looked appalled. “No. I wouldn’t allow an ambulance to go on call without supplies.”

“We need it. Leave a note on the dashboard if it makes you feel better.”

Her hands clutched the wheel. “This is crazy. There’s a bullet lodged in your side that was meant for me. Your wounds will require more than gauze and tape to mend. Your face is gray. You need blood.”

“And I’ll get that somehow.”

“Where but a hospital? At a liquor store? You’re not making sense. This is where you should be.”

He found the strength to grasp her hand. “I don’t need what they’re offering. I want to be somewhere peaceful with you. That’s how I’ll heal best.”

“But I can’t get you back on your feet all by myself.”

“Yes, you can.”

She opened the door and stepped out. “Rory, this is foolish.” Crouching low, she darted to the open ambulance and climbed inside. A minute later, she returned with her arms filled with a medical kit and other miscellaneous items. Tossing them into the back seat, she slid behind the steering wheel, slammed the door, and started the engine. “Cross your fingers that I don’t get caught.”

He managed the faintest smile. “Thank you.”

Madelyn drove away just as an ambulance with its siren wailing pulled up to the hospital. A swarm of nurses in white rushed into the bay to meet it.

She slowed and glanced in the rearview mirror. “What if that’s Dorin? Do you think he’s still alive?”

God, it hurt to talk, breathe, or swallow. “I’m certain he’s still alive.”

“I don’t know how I feel about that.” She turned onto a narrow, well-lit street. “Dorin is a freak and I’m not sorry I shot him, but I don’t need a murder warrant on my head. If I go to jail, I might never see Luis again.” Staring into the night, she muttered, “Why are you certain Dorin’s still alive?” Madelyn glanced at him. “What the fuck happened at the castle? I’ve thought about it, and I can’t make sense of anything.”

How much could he tell her without ripping away the foundations of her reality? Or should he just be honest? “If he’s telling the truth, and I believe he is, Dorin is some type of immortal being.”

“A what? I’m not following.”

“Something extraordinary happened to Dorin and granted him an extended life-span.”

“But what was it?”

“Even he’s not sure, but I can vouch that there are worlds within this one populated with unexpected and seemingly impossible things.”

Pressing the gas pedal, she drove down a residential street too fast and nearly drove up a curb and clipped a mailbox. “What kind of answer is ‘even he’s not sure’? Speak plainly. I’m tired and I want to understand.”

“Dorin had intimate contact with a creature from another realm.”

Her mouth gaped. “Intimate as in sexual?”

“Intimate as in they shared blood.”

She shuddered. “Oh.” Her gaze drifted toward Rory. “And what are you?”

The second he told her, the beautiful softness in her eyes would turn to horror, and she would scream and try to leap from the moving car—or she might slam on the brakes and demand he get out. Either way, he dreaded what was coming. In that moment of agony, he regretted revealing his true face. “I’m a vampire.” The words rushed past his lips. “But I would never hurt you. I will do everything in my power to get you through this situation safely. Don’t worry, you’ll make it home to Luis, I promise.”

“You’re telling the truth, aren’t you?” The color left her face. “About being a vampire? I mean, I saw your eyes change and your teeth lengthen, but I—”

“Didn’t want to believe it? I don’t blame you. I wish I didn’t know anything about vampires, and certainly wish I wasn’t one.”

They came to a traffic light. She stomped on the brake too hard, making the car jolt to a stop, and he tensed as excruciating pain poured through him.

Staring ahead, she said nothing. Her reaction to his big news puzzled him. Perhaps she was in shock or denial, or maybe she really didn’t believe him?

The light changed. She turned left and drove west down a broad avenue. Despite the late hour, the streets were filled with traffic, and her eyes remained on the road as the city sped past.

After a long, quiet ride, they reached a hilly drive that exited onto a beachside highway. The moon had just risen over a dark sea. They drove for miles along the coast until Madelyn pulled the car into a small motel at the base of a sea cliff. The Sunset Sands Motor Lodge consisted of a cluster of bungalows garishly lit with pink neon signage and glaring yellow light bulbs above each door.

Madelyn parked and got out, wrapping the tuxedo jacket tightly around her to disguise the bloodstains on her dress. “Wait. I’ve been here before. Hopefully, the owner won’t remember me.”

He lacked the strength or the will to follow with more than his gaze. She walked slowly, sensuously; the hip roll was back and no doubt meant to catch the eye of the man behind the counter. Her demeanor seemed incredibly calm for a woman who had just been informed her front seat companion was a vampire.

With easy strides, Madelyn walked into the first bungalow that doubled as a lobby and office. She took a bill from her purse and slid it across the counter, toward a skinny man in a denim work shirt who had a strip of fair hair running from ear to ear on the back of his bald head. They engaged in an animated discussion that must have involved him, because Madelyn kept pointing to the car. Was she pleading for help or trying to help him? He could no longer tell the difference.

The man handed Madelyn a key and a fifth of whisky, and she returned to the car and opened the passenger door. “Room nine. Can you walk?” She gestured to a bungalow on the edge of a sandy knoll.

The distance was little more than a hundred feet, but it might as well have been a million. “I’ll need help.”

She leaned into the interior and brushed her hand tenderly against his cheek. “Of course.”

As an undead, unnatural thing who still needed someone to care, he looked into her eyes. “I thought you’d be disgusted.”

“Because you drink blood? I guess I should be, but I’m not. I don’t know what to think anymore.” She slid her arm under his. “Can you stand?”

He discovered that, with help, he could. Leaning heavily on her, he took a limping step.

“Go slow.” She propped him up. “Sam said he could find us some clean clothes. I think we should burn the ones we have on in the fire pit on the beach.”

He nodded. “Smart.”

She remained pressed against him as they made steady progress toward the bungalow.

“Madelyn.” He was afraid to say it and hear the truth, but he had to ask. “You could run away from me so easily. Why don’t you?”

“Because I’m not scared of you.” She sounded sincere. “It’s weird, but I had a little déjà vu when I first saw you standing in the lobby. I kept thinking, ‘I know this guy from somewhere,’ but where would we have met?”

“Nowhere.” There was no way he would mention who she reminded him of.

“I guess you’re right.”

They hobbled up to the door of room nine, and Madelyn slid the key into the lock and twisted the knob. The door stuck. She gave it a kick. It opened with a shrill creak. “Salt air. The hinges rust.”

Once they were inside, she flicked on the light switch. A bare lightbulb buzzed overhead; a large bed with a worn chenille cover looked lumpy, and was likely two smaller mattresses pushed together. The purely utilitarian furniture was battered with scratches and cigarette burns. A few cigarette butts had been left behind by the last resident of the room.

Madelyn emptied the ashtray into the trash. “Housekeeping hasn’t been very diligent.”

That could work in their favor. “Let’s hope they keep their distance. Close the curtains.”

She did as she was told, then walked into the bathroom and washed her hands. “I’ll be back in a second. I have to go back to the car and get the first aid kit.” Glancing over her shoulder, she looked at him. “Do you need help getting undressed?”

An action as simple as standing was taxing his reserves. “I’ll manage.”

“Good.” She darted away.

Rory fiddled to release his cuff links while he stared at himself in the mirror, wishing it were true that vampires couldn’t see their reflection. He looked like shit.

Madelyn returned with the supplies before he’d had an opportunity to do anything. Setting the kit on the sink, she opened it and dug through its contents, removing a pair of long tweezers, scissors, gauze pads, and bandages, and organized it all into neat rows. “Okay. I have no idea what the proper protocol would be for taking a slug out of a vampire, but I guess we should sterilize everything first, pick the bullet out, clean the wound, and stitch you up.”

“Maybe not even that much. I can’t get an infection, and I’m not worried about scarring, so just do your best.”

“I’ll try.” She grabbed a stack of towels from the bathroom, steered him toward the bed, and laid a towel across the bedcover.

He started to unbutton his shirt, but the many tiny shell buttons proved too challenging to his numb fingers and he gave up.

Madelyn quickly noticed what needed to be done and finished the job for him. Brushing the blood-damp shirt aside, she looked at the wound. “It’s so small.”

He unbuckled his belt and unbuttoned his fly, then tugged his trousers down his lean hips. “My body is already trying to heal, but I don’t want the bullet inside me. Don’t be afraid to do whatever you need to do.”

She appeared wary. “Lie down.”

“I can stand.”

“What if you faint and knock me down while I’m holding a sharp object?”

“Good point.” He sat on the bed and stretched onto his back. “By the way, that was a joke.”

“I know.” Her face remained humorless. “God, I hope I don’t get sick.”

“You won’t.”

“Are you sure?”

“Madelyn, you’re strong. You won’t let me down.”

“I’ll try.” She rose from the bed. “Even though you say you can’t get an infection, I have to scrub my hands one more time and clean this stuff with the whisky and fight the urge to drink it.”

“You can drink what’s left when we’re done.”

“Deal.” She walked into the bathroom and washed her hands under running water until the bathroom mirror fogged.

“Leave some skin on your hands!” He could actually feel the wound tightening and growing smaller.

“Be patient, I’m almost done. I’m trying to get my mind right. This isn’t easy.”

It was hard to believe she had not abandoned him.

Madelyn returned from the bathroom with a dry washcloth. She opened the fifth of whisky, doused the cloth with alcohol, and wiped down the tweezers, scissors, and a curved needle for stitching skin. “You’re not even going to need stitches, are you?”

“Probably not. At least you’ll be spared that.”

She squinted at the overhead bulb. “Not the best light to work with, but I better get going, the wound is closing.”

Relieved she finally understood the immediacy of the task, he shut his eyes and waited as she cleaned the area surrounding the wound.

“Let me know if I’m hurting you.”

“It will hurt, and you will know it.”

She finished prepping the wound, picked up the long tweezers, and held them poised midair. “Ready?”

There was no getting ready for having something poked inside.

Madelyn handed him a folded towel. “Bite down on this. We’re far enough away from the other bungalows that if you scream it might go unnoticed, but you never know.” She placed her finger in the wound, slightly pulled the skin aside, and poked around with the tip of the tweezers.

The pain was searing. He arched off the mattress, howling, and his fangs descended and shredded the edges of the towel to tatters.

“Got it.” Madelyn displayed the bullet to Rory. “I’ll clean the wound, and we’re done.” She wiped him down with a whisky-soaked cloth. “The wound is already sealing shut. It’s amazing. Maybe in a little while, you can stand in the shower and wash the blood off.”

“Or a warm bath.” Now he was truly spent. The last of his energy had evaporated. “I’m so cold.”

Her hand skimmed his side. “The damn wound closed. Smooth skin is taking its place. No scar or visible signs a bullet ripped through you... I’ve never seen anything like it.”

His voice was gruff. “The cells of my body don’t follow the same rules as yours.”

“Is that our only difference, we live by different rules?” She touched his hand. “You’re freezing. I’m going to run a hot bath for you.”

Too exhausted to speak, he smiled.

Madelyn walked into the bathroom, plugged the tub, and turned on the faucet. Steaming water tumbled out and made the air misty. “I wish I had some bubble bath.”

That was just about the last thing on his wish list. With tremendous effort, he rose from the bed, shuffled into the bathroom, and leaned against the doorjamb, watching Madelyn stir the water with her hand.

She turned, looking surprised. “You walked in here on your own. You must be feeling stronger.”

He nodded. “I’m still sore, but much better. Once the bullet was gone, my body was free to stop reacting to it and mend.”

Her gaze swept over him. “You still look like crap.”

“That happens when the blood drains from your body. After I warm up, I’m going to have to go hunting.”

Madelyn’s gaze broke from his. “Do you kill them?”

“No. I do my best to avoid that.”

She allowed the tuxedo jacket to slide off her shoulders and fall to the floor. “How do you choose them?”

“Who? The people I drink from? Most of the time, it’s purely opportunity. Sometimes, I’ll find them alone, asleep, intoxicated, or just walking on a dark lane. There’s no real rhyme or reason. When possible, I try to pick the strong ones, the folks who can recover the easiest.”

“You don’t torment or kill just because?”

“Never.”

She brushed her hand against his pants. “Take these off and get into the tub.”

He removed his shoes and socks and tossed them on the bed. The pants were already unfastened and had only to be pushed down his thighs and kicked aside. He stood in front of her in his boxers.

She watched him with the same keen anticipation as a lover might. What did that mean? Was she dazzled by something as dangerous and morbid as a vampire, or was it him? He hoped it was him.

“Take everything off.” A strange, almost dreamy look came into her eyes. “And get in the tub.”

Hooking his thumbs into the boxers, he stripped them away and stood naked, looking at Madelyn and trying like hell to read the shifting moods on her face. Was this just flirting, her way of being in control of a situation that had been badly out of control? Where was this going?

The claw-footed cast-iron bathtub was huge. The enamel was worn thin in spots from frequent scrubbing, but at least it had been scrubbed and appeared clean. He stepped his foot in. The water was almost too hot; the contrast to his cool skin smarted, so he slowly eased himself in.

Warm water lapped at his shoulders. Once in, it was heavenly and reviving. He wriggled his fingers as sensation returned. Holding his breath, he fully submerged his head and skulked below the surface like a crocodile. After what felt like a long while, he popped back up.

“See.” Madelyn’s voice was soft. “You would make a great swimmer.” She unzipped her dress and stepped out of it.

He stared in awe. He’d seen her in her swimsuit at the pool, but the ornate undergarments she wore were all the more provocative for what they suggested but did not reveal. The lace of her strapless brassiere had floral patterns woven into it. A large lacy rose covered each nipple and drew the eye. There were more lace roses between her thighs that did little to hide the triangle of dark curls beneath. The lines of her seamed stockings hugging her shapely legs looked like a hilly road leading toward sweet oblivion.

She fingered the snaps on the back of her barely there brassiere. “On or off?”

His mouth went dry. Could he endure skin-to-skin contact with nothing between them and not lose control? He doubted it. At least the delicate lace would serve as a reminder to treat her with care. “On.” Even as he said it, he regretted it.

“Move over.” She put her foot on the edge of the tub with her coltlike ankle crooked and peeled a silk stocking down her leg, then repeated the same exciting actions on the other foot. “I’m climbing in.”

He was stunned and didn’t know what to say. When her body slid against his, would he be able to restrain himself?

She sank into the tub, nudging him aside, and pressed the lacy cups of her bra against his chest. “I know what you’re thinking. I trust you. When Dorin pointed the gun at me and fired, I thought I was dead. I was certain of it. That bullet would have hit my heart, but you thought nothing of leaping in front of me and catching it in the gut. That is not the act of a ruthless killer. I want to give something back to you.”

He brushed his hands against the sides of her face. She looked at him without a hint of fear. Could he do this? Should he accept this gift, or was this one of those things that was too wonderful and bound to draw the wrath of fate and punish him for giving in to his heart’s desire?

Her foot stroked his leg. “I’m offering what you need.”

He owed her the truth. “It could be painful. Sometimes it is, especially if there’s fear.”

“But I’m not afraid. I’m curious. I want to know.”

Feeding often made him self-conscious and interrupted the vital joy of drinking blood. Sometimes, the awareness of how visceral and animal-like he’d become would overwhelm him. At his most uninhibited, the guttural sounds and motions were those of a predatory beast. He sometimes growled and snarled as he covered his prey to slurp blood. Of course, humans were animals too, but there were so many ways to mask that fact. A vampire, sniffing, stalking, and pouncing on his prey could not deny he had more in common with a barn owl hunting mice in the night than he did with his fellow men.

In his mind, Madelyn occupied another troubling category. The man in him wanted to impress her, win her, fuck her, and somehow that crossed a profane line. She belonged to the living, and he’d do his damnedest to ensure she remained in that group. He must not seduce her, bleed her, or enslave her as many other vampires would, but it bothered him that some needy part of his heart wanted to do exactly that.

She leaned her head against the rim of the tub, exposing her throat, and gazed at the ceiling. The teasing gesture was almost more than he could bear. “You don’t have to feel guilty. I’m saying yes, and I’m counting on you to keep me safe.”

It had been a long time since someone had trusted him that much. He hesitated to tell her that sometimes the initial agony of the one he drank from crossed into an ecstatic state of bliss. Why this should be was a mystery to him, but occasionally, a bond between both partners was formed and a pleasure so great flowed between them that a master vampire could summon his chosen one at will and drink without the least bit of resistance anytime he wished. Of course, such an arrangement was highly destructive for the human. Did he possess the character and will to resist such a selfish coupling? At that moment, he wasn’t sure.

Beneath the water, her hand brushed his. “Should I keep my eyes open or closed?”

He kissed her forehead and then the tip of her nose. “I’ll tell you when to close them.” The bathwater had warmed him, and now the temperature of his skin matched hers. As much as he needed to feed and heal, he also wanted to go slow and enjoy touching her as the rare gift it was. He was tempted to tell her how long it had been since he had lain with a woman and shared anything this wonderful. There was so much he wanted to tell her, but if he did, he knew he might be opening a door that would be better left locked.

He stroked the side of her throat and traced a slick fingertip along the curve of her shoulder. “Come closer.” He wrapped his arms around her, drew her against his chest, and supported her nape. “I won’t let you slip below the water, and I’ll be listening for your heartbeat. You’re safe with me. Relax.” He hoped to God she’d have no pain. Kissing her throat, he also licked the skin, knowing a vampire’s kiss would numb the surface and ease the bite. Her pulse was warm and steady beneath the surface. He braced for the pleasure. His fangs descended. “Close your eyes.”

He bit. A faint squeak of shock or pain crossed Madelyn’s lips, and he knew it was wrong to linger halfway in the moment. In the long run, it would be less traumatic for her to endure the full bite and possibly cross into pleasure with him. His fangs sank deeper. She arched in his arms, splashing water from the tub, and he worried he was hurting her.

Blood welled to the surface and he swirled his tongue against the first coppery drops. Drinking from a willing woman in a warm bathtub was almost more bliss than he could bear. His senses were swimming in fulfilled desire. As a vampire, if he’d ever had a dream or goal, this was it.

Without prompting, she wrapped her arms around him and twined her leg between his ankles, locking them in a strange embrace he never wanted to release. He went slowly, carefully sipping and licking to avoid excessive bruising. There was no need to cause harm. She wasn’t fighting him, and by some miracle, he was able to master his self-control as he drank.

Like moving through thick honey, a slow-paced eternity passed. The pleasure built to a fevered pitch. He continually checked in with himself. Was he taking too much? Would Madelyn be all right? Finally, even in the warm water, she began to feel cool to the touch. Reluctantly, he pulled away, licking her wounds closed as his fangs exited.

Rory stroked a wet strand of hair from her face. Her eyes were shut, and she looked serene. “Rest,” he commanded in the softest tone. “Don’t move.” Holding her close, he leaned forward to add more hot water to the tub. A cascade of steaming water soon warmed Madelyn’s skin. The wound in his side was healing at a fantastic rate. It was possible to watch even the last hint of bruising shrink in size. He kissed her forehead. “Thank you.”

She mumbled something incoherent and remained in a stupor pressed against his chest. He allowed her to sleep; she needed it. Holding her and stroking her wet skin was his prize for winning her trust. Every few minutes he added more warm water to the tub, and watched the flutter of her lashes for signs that she was ready to wake. He was in no hurry for this moment to end, but he knew it would.

Finally, her eyes opened. “Rory,” Madelyn whispered, her voice hoarse. “It was beautiful.”

“What was?” He knew damn well what she was going to say, and he was afraid to hear her describe what they shared in glowing terms. It would only add to his temptation to seek her out and drink from her again and again. An eternal circle could form: she devoted to him, he addicted to her, their every exchange switching back and forth between life and death—and how long would it take for death to win?

Her gaze was languid. “At first it hurt, but then I couldn’t wait for it to hurt more because... I don’t know how to put it into words or if I should even try, but it was bliss. Like I found a missing piece of myself, and then I realized that wasn’t my thought, it was yours.”

Gathering her against him, he held her next to his heart and skimmed his hand against her cheek. “It’s nice to soak in a warm tub.” At that moment he felt more than he could ever express.

Madelyn gazed at her hands. “We shouldn’t stay in too long. My fingers are getting pruny.”

He wished they could stay in the bath forever, adding warm water and letting the outside world fade. “Just a few more minutes, please.”

She swirled her fingertip against the silky hairs on his chest, and pressed her ear to his ribs. “I can hear your heart beating almost as fast as mine.”

He nodded. “Thanks to you.” The way he felt right now was as close to being human as he might ever get. He was at peace, warm, and in loving company.

“Rory, is there a way back from being, you know, what you are?”

“I’ve never found it or even heard of one, but that won’t stop me from looking. Who knows, with men like Dorin out there searching, someday, someone might come across something useful.” Too bad Dorin was so caught up in the superstitious trappings of another age, saintly relics and secret kabalas, that true magic might pass unnoticed. Perhaps vampirism was something as simple as an unknown union of physics and biology yet to be explained? In a post-atomic world, could the next Oppenheimer be the one to pinpoint the cause and reversal of his condition?

Madelyn licked her lips. “I’m so thirsty.”

He’d forgotten to get her water. What a stupid mistake. “I’m sorry.” Rising from the bath, he felt stronger than he had in a long while. Stepping from the tub, he reached for a towel and wound it around his hips.

“Look.” She pointed to his side where only a faint pink mark marked the spot where the bullet had entered. “It’s a miracle. You’re healed.”

He filled a glass set by the sink and brought it to her. “Sip, and start slow. You’ll need to drink several of these.”

Ignoring his advice, she drained the glass. “More.”

He refilled the glass. “Slow down. You don’t want to get nauseous and throw it up.”

She shook her head and smiled. “No, I don’t want that.” But like the first glass, this one disappeared in a couple of gulps.

He took the empty glass from her hand. “I’ll get you more later.”

Madelyn slumped lower in the tub. “I’m so tired all of sudden. I could fall asleep right now.”

“You should rest.” He tossed a fresh towel over his shoulder, bent down, and scooped her into his arms. Water sheeted from her body. With his renewed strength, she was easy to lift and felt light in his arms.

She looked at him, misty-eyed. “Where are you taking me?”

He padded into the next room. “To bed. You need to recover. Just give in and sleep.”

“You’d take care of me, wouldn’t you? And not tell lies.”

“I would, but not just because I’d want to use you.”

“I’ve been used my whole life, but maybe that can change?”

He didn’t like where this was going. The last thing a single mother needed in her life was an undead man. Setting her on the edge of the mattress, he picked up the towel and gently dried her skin. Like an obedient child, she sat still, allowing him to do it, and then she removed her wet bra and panties without the least bit of self-consciousness. Drawing the covers back, he patted the sheets. “Climb in, and don’t kick the covers off. You need to stay warm.”

She reached for his hand. “Lie beside me.”

Could he just slide beside her, feeling the warmth roll off her skin, and talk, laugh, or sleep with his arms around her, and not bite? The offer was so tempting it frightened him. “In a minute. I’m going to fill the glass again and leave it on the nightstand.”

“Don’t bother. I can’t drink anymore right now.”

“It’s for later, and I want it within easy reach.” He left to fill the glass. His gaze wandered to the bathroom mirror. Through a streak on the foggy surface, he caught a glimpse of his face. His cheeks were ruddy and healthy-looking. His eyes sparkled. Not only did he feel strong, this was the most vibrant he’d looked in ages. No one passing him on the street would suspect anything “other.”

The glass overfilled and he dumped the excess down the sink, then returned to Madelyn.

The puncture marks on her throat had already sealed and faded to a deep pink. In a day or two they would be gone. He had worried about scarring her, since some donors did, and was glad to see that she would heal completely.

She drew the sheets aside. “Hop in.”

As ill-advised as it was, he decided to climb under the covers and lie beside her. The hotel sheets were rough but smelled fresh. Propped on his elbow, he gazed at her.

A look of sadness crossed her face. “Bill knew about this all along, didn’t he?”

Rory rolled onto his back and squinted at the single bulb flickering overhead, wishing he’d turned it off. “I’m not sure about how much he knew, but certainly Bill was aware Dorin was up to something, possibly otherworldly, and willing to take advantage. Or maybe he thought it was all crazy, and he was just chasing Dorin’s money. Either way, they both had big expectations and those expectations did not materialize. Someone has to take the blame, and that someone will be you. Madelyn, you can’t go back to the penthouse, not even to pick up a bag. You saw too much, it didn’t work out, and now you’re disposable.”

“Damn.” She wrapped her arms around him and laid her head on his chest. “What am I going to do? If Bill wants to find me, he can. He knows where my mother lives, and where Luis goes to school. What’s going to happen to me? I have nowhere to go.”

He didn’t want to mention his worst fear. Once Bill heard about what a fiasco the night had been, he suspected Bill wasn’t above hunting Madelyn down and offering her to Dorin to do with as he pleased, if only as a gesture of goodwill. “Madelyn.” He paused and waited until he had her full attention. What he had to say would likely be met with resistance or even hostility. “I’ve been thinking, and my thoughts keep coming back to the same problem, and there seems to be only one answer. I wish I had a better solution, but for the sake of your mother and Luis—I’m going to have to kill you.”