Driving the roadster was like riding a fine horse, the motion was smooth, and he looked damn good doing it. Rory drove west. In the rearview mirror, the sky was just beginning to lighten royal blue. If he was going to get away with what he wanted to do, he had to hurry.

Using his innate sense of direction, he found his way back to Hollywood Boulevard with ease. The Fairbanks Hotel towered at the head of the block, its sign a glowing beacon in the predawn hour. A traffic light turned red, and he stopped.

The squeal of tires caught his attention. To his left, a white Bugatti raced out of the Fairbanks’s parking garage, ran the red light, and kept going.

Rory tipped the hat in front of his eyes and glanced away as the car passed.

Dorin. He was back on his feet and he didn’t look happy. The Bugatti sped away. What had he been doing at the Fairbanks? Had he already come to Bill to complain that he had not gotten his money’s worth from their deal? Probably. Dorin was out thousands of dollars and down two vampires.

Too bad, jerk.

Deciding to avoid the hotel’s garage, he parked on the boulevard and tossed the hat on the passenger seat. Under a streetlamp, the red paint job was glossy as a bloodstain, and he had zero regrets about buying this car. Walking through the hotel’s garden, he entered the gate that led to the pool and looked up eleven stories. Every window on this side of the Fairbanks was dark or had its curtains drawn. Perfect.

Time to slip into vampire mode. Quiet and stealthy, he leaped into a palm tree and climbed to the third story. From there he jumped onto a balcony and then onto a fire escape. Once he was on the iron stairs of the fire escape, the climb was easy. He reached the penthouse and the balcony to the butler’s room. Of course the window was open, the way he’d left it. He walked inside the room, immediately sought out his duffel bag, and checked its contents. With the exception of his longshoreman’s pay, there was little of any value to anyone else, and fortunately everything appeared undisturbed.

He turned to leave, and then the impulse to visit Madelyn’s room overwhelmed him. Perhaps he could grab a few items of hers to make her happy? It seemed easy enough, and not that risky considering he had the advantage.

Creeping down the hallway, he pushed her door open. What should he take? What would she miss the most? Without hesitating, he reached for the pink-capped bottle of White Shoulders, sniffed it, and slipped the lovely perfume into the bag. A lipstick and a silver-handled hairbrush followed. Some jewelry, a cashmere sweater, and lacy underwear were added. Stuffing as much as he could fit, he wanted to take a little of everything, knowing she must never come back here.

As he worked to empty a drawer, he became aware of the scent of blood. At first the perfume had masked it, but its sharp metallic tang burst through to his senses loud and clear. Whose blood, and where?

The phone in the living room rang; the shrill sound was jarring and sure to wake someone. Rory stopped filling the duffel bag, slung it over his shoulder, and left Madelyn’s room. The phone kept ringing. He tiptoed down the hall to the living room, hoping to slip out the door unseen.

In front of a grand window facing the Hollywood Hills, Bill slumped at his desk, inches from the phone with his forehead on the ink blotter. He appeared to be sleeping, but something was off.

Rory crept closer, and his worst suspicions were realized. Bill’s eyes were open, staring straight at him and not reacting in the least. A slight change of angle revealed why. Bill had been shot in the back of his head. A piece of his scalp was sticky with blood and had parted from his skull.

On the far side of the desk, Hank lay sprawled on the floor with a chunk of his temple missing.

Dorin had been here cleaning up loose ends and silencing potential talkers. What did that mean?

A knock on the door shattered the silence.

“Mr. Boven!” a man shouted through a crack. The voice had the same trembling pitch as Herb, the elderly elevator operator. Did the poor sap ever rest? “Mr. Boven, we’ve received several complaints from the tenth floor. They say they heard fighting and shots fired. Could you open the door, sir, and let us know you’re all right?” He knocked louder.

Retreating into the hall, Rory waited. With two fresh kills in the next room, this was not the place to be seen.

Herb pounded his fist against the door. “Miss Porter!” he shouted. “Are you in there? Miss Porter! I’m coming back with a key.” The sound of footsteps shuffling down the hall faded.

Rory hurried to the door and peered out the peephole. The elevator was waiting for Herb, and just as he was about to step in, he turned and walked back.

What should he do? Rory remained calm and moved to the side.

Herb knocked again. “Is everyone all right in there? Someone answer me, please!” The knob twisted, and he opened the unlocked door. “This don’t feel right,” he muttered. “Hank? Are you here?”

Rory backed against the wall, allowing the door to mask his presence.

“Hello!” Herb called into the dark penthouse. “Anyone here? We got a flood of complaints ten minutes ago. There’s got to be somebody awake.” Taking cautious steps, Herb flipped on a light switch and walked into the living room. “Dear God! Mr. Boven. Uh.” A gurgling sound like a retch rose in Herb’s throat. “Oh shit.”

It was time to flee. Rory darted from his hiding place and dashed into the corridor, allowing the door to close behind him. Avoiding the elevator, he took the emergency staircase, three steps at a time. Soon he skipped the stairs altogether, jumping over the rail and landing on the flight below. The duffel bag made the leaps cumbersome, but his progress was swift. Sixth floor, fifth floor, fourth four, he moved with superhuman speed. When he reached ground level, he peered into the lobby. No one was behind the desk. He headed for the side exit that led to the pool and escaped the same way he’d come in.

Once he was off hotel property and striding along the sidewalk, he exhaled a ragged breath as he approached the roadster. Did he get away unseen? No one was near, and the few people in passing cars appeared disinterested. He tossed the duffel bag onto the passenger seat, climbed in, and started the engine. The sound alone was reassuring, a deep contented purr like a well-fed lion. He needed to get out of there; recent events left him numb.

Rory pulled into traffic and fought the impulse to stomp on the gas and speed. He needed to see Madelyn and know she was safe. How would she react to the news that everything about her old life was gone? He guessed she wouldn’t take it well.

Like an elegant lady entering the room and demanding all eyes, the roadster rolled down the boulevard with her polished chrome sparkling under the streetlamps. Soon, he reached the edge of town where the land ended and the ocean and the sky shared the same deep shade of blue divided by a slender thread of gold. Dawn had arrived.

He turned north on Pacific Coast Highway. The only traffic on the road with him was the occasional truck loaded with fresh produce headed into the city. The sight of beaches and weathered sea cliffs was pleasing. None of this beauty had been visible before. When he arrived, the sky was crystal blue, but the pink neon lights of the Sunset Sands Motor Lodge were still on. Driving the car up to bungalow number nine, he parked and got out.

It felt good to stretch his legs. He grabbed the duffel bag from the passenger seat, walked up to the door, and knocked. “Madelyn, it’s Rory.”

She didn’t answer. He got scared. Had Dorin already figured out his loosely improvised scheme and caught up to them? It seemed unlikely, but it was still a horrible thought. “Madelyn!” he said more firmly. If she didn’t open the door this second, he was ready to break a window and climb in. “Wake up!”

Madelyn opened the door looking a little pale and sleepy-eyed, but otherwise fine. “Give a girl a moment to wrap a sheet around her. Sheesh. Come in. Why so hot under the collar?”

He’d forgotten how hard it often was to wake a donor who’d been put under a thrall. “Gather all your personal things from the room. We’re leaving now.”

“Now?” She pinched the sheet between her fingertips. “Guess what. I don’t have any clothes. My dress is missing. Someone stole my goddamned dress.”

“I stole your goddamned dress.”

“What the hell for? It had bloodstains on it.”

“Exactly.” He scanned the room. “Make sure you don’t leave anything identifiable behind.”

“Okay, I guess I’ll just make myself a shirt, blouse, and blazer from these sheets. All I need is a pattern, a sewing machine that I don’t know how to use, and talent I don’t possess. It shouldn’t be too hard. Count on me to be dressed and ready to go sometime next spring.”

He smiled. She was back to being smart-mouthed Madelyn. How could he tell her what he must? “I have good news and bad.”

Her gaze faltered. Worry crossed her brow. “Good news, please.”

“You have some clothes. I went back to the penthouse and emptied a couple of drawers.” He set the duffel bag down on the rumpled bed and opened it. “I tried to pick a bit of everything.”

Her face lit. “You took that risk for me? Thank you.” A silver bangle slid from the bag; she grabbed it and slipped it onto her wrist. “See how chic this looks with my linen gown? Edith Head, eat your heart out.”

There was no need to drag it out. He just needed to say it. “The bad news is Bill’s dead.”

“My Bill?” Her eyes widened. “How? You didn’t...?”

“No. It wasn’t me. I saw Dorin drive away from the Fairbanks—”

“Driving? Are you sure? I put a bullet in his chest.”

“I told you. Dorin is some sort of immortal. By now he’s figured out that you, I, and by the way, Hank is dead too, are useless to him.”

Tears welled. She looked panicked. “Dorin will be watching to see who comes back to the Fairbanks.”

“Madelyn, you can’t ever go back. Not for any reason. In fact, you have to leave Hollywood altogether.”

“What? How am I going to live?”

He cupped her face, wanting to reassure her everything was going to be all right, but he didn’t want to be liar. “Madelyn, you’re dead.”

Confusion shone in her eyes. “I’m not following you.”

“Remember when I said I had to kill you?”

“I thought that was a bad joke?”

“It wasn’t, and I did it. Who’s your dentist?”

“Dr. Gillespie on Wilshire. Why?”

Rory dug inside his jacket and pulled on the torn white page with the city morgue’s phone number. He walked to the nightstand and dialed nine. The operator came on. “Connect me with Trinity 87-4732.”

“Yes, sir.” The female operator was cheerful and professional. “TR 87-4732 on the line sir.”

The phone rang and rang. Madelyn stared at him like he was nuts.

Finally after a minute or more, someone picked up the phone. “Los Angeles City Morgue. What can—”

Rory jumped in. Damn, he didn’t even know the man’s last name. “I need to speak to Alonso.”

“Alonso’s shift just ended. He’s already on his way to his car.”

He tried to remain clam. “Would you stop him, please? I must speak with him.”

“Who is this?”

What should he say? “Tell him it’s the gentleman he spoke to last night.”

“I’ll try.” The phone was set down with a thunk and the sound of footsteps running faded.

A long wait followed.

Someone picked up the phone and whispered, “Is this who I think it is?”

How would he know? “Is this Alonso?”

“Yes.” Alonso’s voice shook. “Is that you, toothy guy? What am I going to do about the empty drawer that Jane Doe 611 occupied? Tell me that?”

“For two grand, you’ll figure it out. If you don’t have any clever ideas, you can give the money back and I’ll make sure the chief of police knows about the shenanigans that go on at the city morgue.”

“Fuck no. Don’t do that. I’ll think of something.”

“Heads-up. You have a burn victim coming to the morgue soon. She’ll be pulled from the wreckage of a charred Packard that drove off the side of a cliff. Her name is Madelyn Porter. She’s an actress. Contact Dr. Gillespie on Wilshire for her dental records, which will be a perfect match, if you know what I mean. After she’s been identified, someone will call later and arrange the funeral. Jane Doe 611 will get a very nice send-off to her long-awaited eternal peace.”

“But you’re not coming by?” Alonso sounded scared.

“Not unless there’s a problem, so make sure there aren’t any problems.”

Madelyn sat next to Rory on the edge of the mattress. The springs dipped. Her brows buckled with worry. “Jane Doe 611? What happened?”

Should he tell her, or would a confession only cause anxiety and disgust? He stared at his hands. He needed to wash and change his clothes. He got up and strode toward the bathroom, pushed the shower curtain aside, and turned on the faucet. “I have to get out of these clothes now. It will just be a minute.”

The grime of the night had caught up with him, and suddenly he couldn’t bear to have these borrowed garments clinging to his skin a moment longer. He unlaced his boots and kicked them aside, then stripped the jacket and pants away as he waited for the water to warm.

Madelyn followed him into the bathroom. “Do you need to tell me something?”

“No.” The sooner he got a bar of soap in his hands and washed the whole incident away, the better.

“What was all that on the phone?”

“Please don’t ask.”

“Don’t ask? Are you mad? Of course I have to ask. Tell me.”

Maybe it was better to make the first cut, the harshest. “Madelyn Porter is dead. The life you had is over. You can never go back to it. Do you understand?”

She raked her fingers through her hair. “No, I don’t. Tell me why.”

“Because you shot Dorin and you know his secret. He will hunt you down and kill you.”

Her voice rose to a hysterical pitch. “What does he think I would tell people? There’s a castle-dwelling freak who lives in the Hollywood Hills who thinks he’s immortal? Should I even mention the vampire when I retell the story? Who’d fucking believe me?”

“Dorin likes privacy and control. Tonight he lost both, and that makes him dangerous.”

She bit her lip. “How did Bill die?”

“Do you really want to know?”

Madelyn moved closer, her gaze filled with tears. “Bill did some things wrong, but he was a friend when I needed one.”

Could he say it? Would it help her to move on with her life to know Bill sent her out tonight, beautifully dressed and completely ignorant of what was waiting for her on the other side? “Bill was never your friend, Madelyn.”

Her lips parted and trembled.

Finally it clicked. Bill had been hinting that a body could be disposed of on the far side of Griffith Park. Bill knew Madelyn had a kid and didn’t seem to care. The whole thing made him sick. If Bill weren’t already dead, he’d finish the job himself. “I think Bill knew what I was, or else he had some vague idea that tonight was a one-way trip for you. He may not have known everything, but he expected Dorin to do something extreme, and if harm came to you, that was okay with him.”

She shook her head. “I don’t want to believe that.”

If life as a vampire had taught him one thing, it was that facts and beliefs didn’t always get along.

The water had warmed, and steam filled the air and covered the mirror. He peeled his socks off and dropped the boxers down his legs. “Excuse me. I have to wash this goddamn night away.”

Madelyn allowed the sheet to fall and stood naked beside him, her mocha skin warm in the morning light. “I’ll get in with you.”

He wanted her to. It would feel so good to soap her skin and stand together under a misty spray. Soft touching could lead to stolen kisses, which might turn into a savored bite. His heart ached to do it. If he wasn’t careful, he’d become addicted to her. “Madelyn, you helped me and I refuse to use you.”

“Is it wrong if I give permission? What we shared was magical. I’m a grown woman. Can’t I do what I want?”

It hurt to say it. “You shouldn’t want this.”

“Rory, that’s not for you to decide.”

He stepped into the shower before his resolve faded.

Madelyn followed. She stepped over the rim of the tub, touching his arm, sliding her hand up his shoulder and grasping him, forcing him to turn.

He glanced over his shoulder. Her gaze pleaded with his reason. It was far too soon to take blood from her again.

“One more time. Please. Hold me,” she whispered. “Keep me safe, and don’t let me fall.” A smoldering half-awake look softened her gaze. “I trust you.”

“You shouldn’t.” Some of what Dorin had said lingered. As a vampire, Madelyn would make an ideal companion. They could hunt together, belong to each other, and drift through the world looking like any other handsome couple living an idyllic life, except they wouldn’t be alive.

That he would even consider drawing her into his realm frightened him. He reached for the bar of soap and vigorously sudsed his hands and arms. “Madelyn, you befriended me, fed me, and I will not betray you and Luis by making you weak or dependent on me. Aren’t you sick of men taking so much from you?”

The shower’s spray beat down, crystalline droplets sprinkled everywhere, and tears clearly glistened in her eyes. “Is that what I look like to you? A weakling? That’s not me. I promise you that whatever happens next in my life, I will be no one’s victim.” She stepped closer. Her foot slid between his. Wet skin on skin, her hip brushed his and her hands cupped his face. “I sensed a connection between us. Was I wrong?”

The look in her eyes was filled with questions he was uncomfortable answering. “Madelyn, I don’t want to hurt you or see you hurt.” If he were more honest with himself, he’d admit he’d fallen in love with her the first moment she walked toward him in the lobby. How the hell had this happened so fast? Even more confusing, he’d long believed his heart was beyond such things. By some miracle it had roared back to life, leaving him worried and in awe.

Madelyn stood on tiptoe and brushed her lips against his. “Tell me you don’t want this.”

He couldn’t. More than anything, he wanted to hold her, taste her, and feel her heart beating against his chest. “I drank from you hours ago. It’s too soon.”

She kissed his mouth. “But you have self-control and free will, don’t you? Take a little, just enough to carry me to the edge. I want to feel that bonding sensation again where you and I just blend together.”

Maybe he could? Her words tugged at his conscience. If he were wise, he’d ignore her, but that was proving impossible.

Her gaze met his. She licked her lips. “If I say it’s all right and you say it’s all right, who’s being hurt?”

Her argument was making sense, and that added to his guilt. He held a finger to her lips. “Madelyn, stop talking.”

She caught his finger between her lips and kissed it, nipped it and sucked it deeper into her mouth with a rapturous expression on her face.

A shudder of ecstasy rolled through him. Trying to resist wasn’t working. He took hold of her hips, lifted her, and pinned her against the wet tile wall.

Wrapping her legs around his waist, she locked her hands behind his shoulders, tipped her head back, and offered her throat. “Do it and don’t feel guilty.”

He felt terribly guilty, and wished he could keep her at his side all the time, ready to enjoy all her bounty. With a firm grasp, he cupped her nape and drew her close. The scent of arousal and hint of adrenaline rolled off her skin, exciting his senses. Enraptured in the act, he kissed and licked her throat to prepare her for the bite. Tiny moans of anticipation crossed her lips, and she wriggled against him, inflaming him beyond the point of return. His fangs shot downward and he bit.

“Mmm,” Madelyn moaned, but remained still as his fangs punctured the tender skin below her ear. He willed himself to go slow and be careful, but the pleasure of pressing against her ran riot in his soul. With the gentle stroke of his tongue, he coaxed the first trickle of warm blood to the surface, taking only the smallest amount. Reverently licking, kissing, and tasting, the essence of all that was Madelyn was rolled over his tongue like the bouquet of the finest wine.

The powerful shower spray prickled his back. He turned Madelyn’s face away so she would not inadvertently gulp water in her semi-stupor. She was depending on him to protect her, pay attention to all signs, and carry her the other side of this union unharmed, and he would not let her down.

This was as close as he might ever get to heaven. His skin was warm, his cock was hard, he had his arms around Madelyn, and she was sharing herself as bravely and with as much pleasure as he could ever hope for.

Going slow, he fed deliriously on and on.

Her arms slid from his shoulders and dangled limp at her sides.

He froze and pulled away. What had he done? Her eyes were closed and lips slack. How long had he been drinking? Was she okay? He eased her feet to the tub; she was unable to stand on her own. He scooped her into his arms, then rushed her into the bedroom and laid her on the mattress. “Madelyn, wake up.” She didn’t move. He covered her with a blanket, cursing himself for being so selfish. “Sweetheart.” He patted her cheek. “Look at me.”

She opened her eyes and smiled. “What’s wrong?”

He sighed. “You scared me.”

“Weren’t we in the shower?” She touched her throat.

Rory stopped her hand. He needed to seal the wound, and leaned down to lick it closed so she would heal faster. “The shower’s still running. You fainted.”

“Oh.” She curled into a ball. “I want to sleep for three days.”

“You need to drink some water first.” He’d taken too much too soon, and now felt horrible about it. Why had he listened to Madelyn when he knew better? He rose from the bed and returned to the bathroom to shut the shower off. He brought back a full glass of water, lifted her head, and helped her to drink.

After she swallowed every drop, her head returned to the pillow. “I had the strangest experience.”

His experience had been ecstatic. “How so?”

“I think I died, or crossed a boundary of some sort.”

He had not taken that much blood. “Your heartbeat was strong. I don’t think you died.”

“But I saw things I’m pretty sure I wasn’t supposed to see. It felt like sneaking backstage and looking at the rough backside of all the painted scenery that looks so pretty from the front.”

Almost holding his breath, he braced for the worst. Had she seen the everyday loneliness and horror of a vampire’s existence? “What did you see?”

“I saw my father, the way I saw him last as a child. He looked right at me and started to cry. Suddenly, I understood why he left us, and it had nothing to do with me. All these years, I thought he wanted a son and was disappointed in me, but the problem was with him. He roamed, cheated, and lost my mother’s trust. It was one of those things that couldn’t be fixed. I finally understood that it wasn’t my fault.

“But it wasn’t all about me.” Madelyn’s face became somber. “I saw a young woman in an old-fashioned gray skirt wearing an apron. When I saw her, even though she was a stranger, I was overwhelmed with love for her. She had the most beautiful blue eyes that looked so sad as she knelt to hand a little boy an orange. The look on her face made me want to run home to Luis, hug him, and never let him go.”

A burst of emotion struck him in the chest like a hard, angry shove. Why had she seen so much? Was this message for him or her, and did it even matter? “You need to be with Luis.”

“I know.” She hung her head. “I’ve been such a fool.”

“It’s not foolish to follow your dreams.” But it’s time to wake up when the dreams turn into nightmares. He thought it, but he didn’t say it.

The sadness cleared from her eyes and she smiled. “Maybe it’s time to build a new dream?” She reached for his hand and held it. “Who knows?”

He glanced down at her hand, feeling paralyzed. What he felt for her should not be. There was no scenario he could imagine where a vampire could fit into a family of women and children and not draw ruin to their door. Other vampires would eventually spot him. Dorin would be persistent and had the resources to track him for years to come. There were sure to be battles ahead, and the prospect was chilling.

Someone knocked on the door. “Morning!” a male voice called out. “It’s Sam. I have some clothes and breakfast for the lady.”

Madelyn glanced at Rory. “Did you arrange this?”

He nodded, but now he was sorry he had. It seemed like a bad idea to linger at the motel, and his instincts urged him to move Madelyn to another location, farther from Dorin.

She smiled. “Sam, did you bring coffee?”

“Of course.” Sam sounded pleased with himself.

“Well come on in!” She laughed.

“Someone needs to help me, my hands are full.”

Rory wrapped a sheet around himself and hurried to open the door. Sam held a tray laden with scrambled eggs, pancakes, toast, grapefruit and bacon, and a pot of coffee. “Thank you. I’ll take that.”

Sam appeared eager for interaction. “I only brought one breakfast, because that’s what you asked for, but I’d be happy to make breakfast for you.”

There was an astonishing amount of food on the tray. Madelyn would never be able to finish it, and he’d already enjoyed her in the shower. “No thank you, I’ve already had breakfast.”

Sam planted himself in the doorway, making no move to leave. “Let me know if you need anything else. Did the boots fit? How about the jacket?”

“You’ve been a huge help. We don’t need anything more.” Damn, what he needed was for Sam to forget about them, but giving him so much money obviously had not been the way to do it. There was nothing more to do but shut the door in Sam’s puppy-dog face using his foot. “Thank you.”

He turned and carried the tray to the bed, setting it down next to Madelyn.

She reached for the coffee and a tiny pitcher of cream, and poured them into a cup. “I’m starving.” While sipping the coffee, she speared the scrambled eggs with a fork, eating and drinking in turn.

It was a pleasure to watch her hearty appetite. He wished he could join her in something as simple as sharing morning coffee and cinnamon toast. Instead he began to empty the contents of the duffel bag onto the bed, sorting his belongs on the left and hers on the right.

She cautiously eyed his actions. “Thank you for getting a few of my things. Poor Bill. I even feel bad about Hank. I’m sorry you saw what you saw.”

It was disturbing to know Dorin was more than a ridiculous eccentric; he was ruthless as well, and willing to leave a trail of bodies in his wake. “So am I.”

Madelyn bit into a triangle of toast. “Except for some stuff at my mother’s house, this is all I have in the world. It’s not much to show for almost ten years in Hollywood.”

“Did you ever use your legal name?”

“No. I was underage as well when I started. Walter set things up for me. I never got around to making it official.” She set her fork down and pushed the tray away. “Poor Walter. That’s another sad story. The men in my life don’t fare too well.”

“That’s not your fault.” Rory reached for the familiar clothes he’d worn on the Pacific crossing and put them on. They smelled of diesel and salt, but they were his.

“I’m done.” She set the tray on the nightstand. “I wonder if it’s too early to call Luis? I want to hear his voice.” Glancing at an alarm clock beside the bed, she frowned. “Do you think that clock is right? Nobody wound it last night. If it’s past eight, Luis’s already left for school.” Disappointment tugged at the far edges of her eyes. “I’ll call later.”

“Call your mother, tell her to pack. I’m putting you and Luis and your mother in a hotel tonight.”

“Why?”

He had no desire to describe the morbid things he’d done and all the many horrible ways it could be exposed as a fraud. “Promise me you will stay away from Los Angeles.”

She appeared leery. “For how long?”

“A few months, maybe longer. It depends on what Dorin does next.” A thought entered his mind and grabbed hold of his imagination. “Where was that place you liked, the one near the hospital where Walter went to dry out?”

“It’s about an hour away, but it’s a rough drive. The dirt roads are rutted in places. The Packard might get bogged down, and Bill will be furious if the paint got....” She caught herself.

“The Packard’s gone.”

“Where?”

“Valhalla.”

“Did you hitchhike here?”

He ran his hand through his hair. Even though Madelyn had cut it, the salt air had brought back the curls. “I bought another car. It’s parked out front. A roadster.”

“When did you have time to buy a sports car?” She reached for one of her sweaters and pulled it over her head.

It now occurred to him how truly impractical the roadster was. A two-seater would never be enough for Madelyn to drive her mother and son around in. Buying a second car solely for her would be a must. “Grab a sheet and wrap everything up that belongs to you, and I’ll put it in the trunk.”

Finger-combing her hair, she coaxed it into a ponytail and secured it with a green rubber band. “Now?”

“Yes, I want to be on our way.” He stuffed the bloodstained shirt and tuxedo into the duffel bag, vowing to burn it at the next possible opportunity. “I wonder if Sam has a copy of this morning’s paper?” Likely the flaming car in the canyon would make the afternoon edition.

Madelyn wriggled into a pair of capri pants paired with strappy sandals. She stood in front of the mirror with a lipstick, coloring her mouth fiery scarlet. Then she pulled a foil packet from her purse and popped a Sen-sen in her mouth. “I’m ready.”

He stared at the beautiful brunette looking back at him and felt pride that Madelyn was with him. This must be what other men felt when they looked at their wives or girlfriends and just knew they were going to spend the rest of their lives thinking about that woman. Suddenly, he no longer wanted to rush, and allowed himself to daydream what-if.

Making a sort of hobo pack, Madelyn tied the four corners of the sheet together to contain her few belongings. “Well? Why are you standing there staring? You were the one who was in a hurry.”

The spell was broken. He scanned the room, putting things in order and making sure they had left nothing behind. He opened the door and stepped out into a blindingly bright sunny day beside the Pacific Ocean.

Madelyn tipped her face to the light with hint of a smile on her lips. “Is it selfish to be glad you’re still alive even if someone else isn’t?”

“No.” He squinted and dug into his duffel bag in search of his sunglasses. With keys in hand, he walked up to the roadster, unlocked the trunk, and loaded everything inside.

She brushed her hands across the bold curves of the roadster. “I’ve always wanted to drive up the coast in a convertible.”

“Today’s your lucky day.” He handed her the keys. “You can drive if you like.”

She snatched the keys, ran to the driver side, and climbed in. “You’re damn right I would.”

Content to be chauffeured, Rory sat beside her and watched the joy on her face as she turned the engine over and steered the sleek car onto the highway.

They drove north along a winding oceanside road and frequently had to slow to steer around rocks that had tumbled down the cliff side. The ocean was a beautiful blue-green, and he was grateful he wasn’t driving so he could simply look. A sign marked the point where Los Angeles County ended and Ventura County began. Beyond this point there was very little except for the occasional bait shop or fruit stand. A pod of dolphins came close to the shore and surfed the breaking waves. Grit blew into their eyes from a white sand dune the size of a small mountain. After driving along a sharp series of cliff-hugging turns, a huge rock, standing alone above the surf, came into view. An army of gray seagulls patrolled the top.

Madelyn pointed. “That landmark has an obvious name, Big Rock. We turn inland from here and drive into a valley.” They drove past estuaries full of water birds and miles of beet fields. It was peaceful here, with only the occasional group of farm workers grooming fields.

They came to a fork in the road and a sign that read “State Hospital.”

With a tap to the gas pedal, Madelyn sped up as if to avoid the road drawing them in. “That’s where Walter tried to kick the sauce. It’s an ideal location. As you can see, there’s nothing close by that could get a patient into trouble, unless they’ve got a problem with beets and ocean air.”

It felt like they were a million miles from Los Angeles. “It’s nice here. I like it.”

They crossed a wide plain with seemingly endless rows of crops, the scent of steer manure hanging heavy in the air, and then they drove into a narrow valley filled with orchards. One particularly beautiful farm was planted with orange groves that covered several rolling hillsides. A fruit stand with stacked fruit crates in front had a sign that read “For Sale.”

Madelyn pulled over and stopped the car. “They’re selling oranges! I’ve been thinking about oranges since.... Let’s buy a bag.”

Rory got out of the car, walked up to a fragrant tree, and picked a ripe orange. Many had already fallen to the ground to rot. Digging his fingernail into the skin released a burst of aromatic oil, along with a strong memory of his mother’s face. It all came flooding back. Madelyn was right. Her eyes were sad.

An old man appeared from the orchard and hobbled toward them, his posture hunched. “Hello!” He waved. “I saw your red car from the house. How can I help you?”

Taking long strides, Madelyn hurried to meet him and save him steps. “We saw the sign. I’d like to buy some oranges.”

The man leaned on his cane. “I’m not selling them by the crate. I’m trying to sell the farm.”

“Oh.” She looked disappointed. “Could you sell me a few oranges?”

“Sure, but you’ll have to pick them yourself. I’m not up to it anymore.”

“Of course.” She turned to Rory. “Do you have a bag or something to put them in?”

“Use an empty crate,” the man volunteered. “I’m happy someone is enjoying this season’s oranges. I should hire a crew to come and pick them, but I just don’t have the heart to do it anymore.”

“Why not?” Madelyn’s demeanor was cautious.

“The harvest was always something I did with my son, James, and we lost Jimmie in ’45 in the battle to recapture Corregidor. I was planning to give the farm to him. Now none of this makes sense anymore, and I’m too old to pick fruit.”

Madelyn helped herself to a wooden crate. “I’m not.” She plucked the largest oranges she could reach.

Rory walked up to the old man. “Is there a house on this property?”

“Yes.” He thrust his chin out. “It’s not fancy, but it’s comfortable. My late wife had good taste. We’ve got an avocado orchard on the other side.”

That was interesting. “Is it just you out here?”

“Yes, but that’s becoming a problem. I’m thinking of moving in with my sister and her kids. They run a dairy in Alta Dena, a couple hours south of here. But I can’t walk away and leave this to the state.”

He said without a moment’s hesitation, “Would you sell it to me?”

“The farm?” The old man laughed. “Why? Do you have cash to throw around? This place needs new irrigation pipes, a new tractor, new windmills, new smudge pots—you name it. I couldn’t get parts during the war, and then after Jimmie fell in duty to our country, I didn’t much care. If you can take it on, it will demand a lot of love and treasure to make a profit again. This is prime land, no lie, but it needs work. I don’t want to mislead you.”

“Let me talk to the lady.” Rory walked toward Madelyn.

Madelyn smiled as she picked oranges. “These smell so good.”

He leaned close. “The old man is selling. He has somewhere else to go. I say we make him an offer.”

Madelyn’s lips parted. She stared in disbelief. “Is that possible?”

“Thanks to Dorin, we still have thousands, and you should use it to set yourself up somewhere safe and move your mother and Luis away from Los Angeles. Dorin is rooted there. He’ll not forget us anytime soon. You have to stay away.”

“But how?”

Long ago, he’d mastered the art of assuming false names and moving money. “I’ll take care of everything and set up a trust for you.”

Her eyes glistened. “You would do that for me?”

He kissed her forehead, wishing he could stay and be part of her life, but he knew that wasn’t an option. “Yes.”

“I can’t pay you back.”

“You already have. But I would like something.” The temptation to return and drink from her was almost more than he could bear, but if he opened that door, he put Madelyn and her loved ones at risk. “I want a picture of you for my locket. Would you do that for me?”

“Of course. How? When do you want it?”

“I’ll contact you someday and ask.”

She looked worried and grabbed hold of his wrist. “Someday? What does that mean? Are you leaving me alone to figure this out? Please don’t....”

His heart was already aching and wishing for something other than what was. “I have to.”

“No!” Her face collapsed in anguish. “After what I’ve seen, I can’t take it back. I’ve been with a vampire and fought with an immortal. There is no normal for me anymore! You can’t just walk away.”

He could and he had to. “Make a new normal for yourself. Do it for Luis.” Madelyn Porter, the scandalous starlet, was dead. “Magdalena Marie Portola is very much alive. Make a good life for her.” One he wished he could be part of.

“You mean just move on like nothing happened?”

“Yes. Start fresh. Your new life begins now. I’ll make arrangements for your mother and Luis to meet you here.”

“What? Just call them and tell them to pack and move?”

“Dorin didn’t hesitate to kill anyone who knew the truth about him. If my plan to kill ‘Madelyn’ doesn’t work, he’ll be looking for you, and it won’t take him long to track down your mother and son. Do you want to take the risk?”

She shuddered. “God, no.”

The last thing he wanted to do was let go of Madelyn, but he had to. “Then do as I say, Magdalena. Can I call you Maggie?”

Tears welled and trickled down her cheeks, as she nodded. “I like Maggie. I suppose I could get used to Maggie.”

“Good.” He placed his hands on her shoulders. “This is the best I can do. I need to know you’re safe.” Taking hold of her hands, he brought them to his lips and kissed her fingertips. They carried the fresh tang of oranges. “Let’s ask that old gentleman how much he wants for the farm.”