Rory opened his eyes. The tomblike stillness of the dimly lit room stifled his senses. He bolted off the bed, threw back the drapes, and stepped onto the balcony.

Below, Madelyn swam laps with the precision of a machine. She’d take three long strokes, turn her face upward to breathe, take three more strokes, then turn her face the other way to breathe. The cycle repeated without variance. Only a kick turn against the wall interrupted the flow of motion. On this perfect day, she was the sole occupant of the pool.

“Madelyn!” he called to her. She continued swimming and didn’t hear him, or else chose to ignore him. “I’m coming down!”

Where the hell was that towel closet? He glanced around the room. A narrow cupboard near the bathroom drew his attention. He opened it. Sitting next to a stack of fluffy bleached towels were two pairs of swimming trunks and a tennis racket. He moved the racket aside and picked up the trunks. Had the last occupant of this room—the driver, bodyguard, errand boy, or whomever he had replaced—played tennis with Madelyn? For some reason, the thought kindled a jealous spark, and he tossed the racket to the back of the cupboard.

Stripping his clothes off as fast as he could, he cast them aside and stepped into the trunks, pulling them to his hips. They were too large. He was lean and always had been, so he pulled the drawstring tighter and tied it in a square knot.

Digging through his duffel bag, he retrieved a pair of woven leather sandals he’d purchased in Singapore and worn during most of the Pacific crossing. Slipping his feet into the shoes, he wondered what the rules were for walking through the lobby shirtless, and opted to wear a shirt at least for the trip to the pool. Snatching a towel off the stack, he closed the door behind him and headed down the hall.

The front room bustled with activity. He heard hushed voices before he saw the men. Bill stood in front of his desk with the suitcase lying open on the desktop, his heavyset henchman, Hank, facing away from the suitcase like a sentry.

Rory walked past, and Hank glanced his way and glared. “Whatcha looking at? Keep moving.”

Apparently they didn’t care where he was going, so he didn’t mention it. He left the suite, strolled to the elevator. The door opened, and this time instead of being empty, an elderly man wearing a red uniform was operating it. “Pool.” He wore trunks and was holding a towel, but he said it anyway.

“Lobby,” the old guy grumbled. “You can find your way to the pool from there.”

Once inside, the descent was swift and silent, so unlike the creaking iron elevators of pre-war London or Paris. The doors opened on the lobby. Floyd, the concierge, had his back turned and was busy chatting on the phone, so he darted toward the side exit to avoid time-wasting questions or confrontations. A sign directed him toward the pool.

Pushing a glass door open, he stepped onto sun-warmed cement and squinted against the glare bouncing off the water. Madelyn splashed across the surface, seemingly unaware of him. He walked to the shallow end, kicked off his sandals, slipped the shirt from his shoulders, and set everything on a lounge while watching her from the corners of his eyes. What might have been an innocuous act of undressing at the poolside carried a forbidden charge when performed near Madelyn. She excited him in some mysterious way—or maybe it wasn’t so mysterious. She was the first woman he’d interacted with in months, and bloodlust always did strange things to his senses. It blunted pain, made soft sounds sharper, and brought the inerrant beauty of any human into focus in all its luscious, blood-providing, existence-sustaining splendor.

Madelyn pulled herself through the water with precise strokes and cupped hands. She’d been swimming for a while, and no doubt her heart pounded from exertion. Even in cool water, her coppery skin would be warm to the touch.

Ten thousand times, he’d fed from the willing and the unwilling drenched in freezing sleet and the uncomfortable but practical conditions of rainy alleyways and muddy battlefields, but not once had he stood skin to skin waist-deep in sparkling water and fed from such a beautiful woman, in an oasis of pleasure beneath a blinding sun. Just thinking about it made him crazy with want.

“Hey!” Madelyn surfaced and gulped a breath. “You changed your mind.” She looked him over and coaxed him closer. “Come in. Afternoon’s the perfect time of day to swim in this pool. There’s enough shadows to keep you from getting too sunburned, and you are pale, my friend.”

Was that a problem? Did he look unattractive or odd to her, and should he care what she thought? A moment of self-consciousness overwhelmed him. “What’s the problem? I’m Irish.”

“And a longshoreman. Did somebody lock you in the cargo hold the entire voyage?”

Her mocking comments stung, but why? He never gave a damn about this sort of thing. “I usually took the night watch.”

“Don’t pout. I’m teasing.” She climbed the first pool step and stood with water sheeting down her sleek curves, looking as formidable as Venus rising from the sea foam wrapped in a bit of stretchy coral cloth. “I’m just jealous. If I had your alabaster complexion, I’d probably get a lot more work.” A half smile that was closer to a sneer curled her lips. “When I first came to Hollywood, I wore a hat outdoors and wanted to look like Jean Harlow, but lately, I don’t give a damn. Bill says I should stay out of the sun and that he can see little lines on my face that weren’t there yesterday, but if I didn’t have alone time in the pool every day, I think I’d lose my mind. You know what I mean?”

He didn’t know what she meant, not really, but he nodded anyway. All his time was alone time, and he had far too much of it. As the decades rolled on, time seemed to be slowing for him. The days were long and often monotonous, filled with mundane tasks that helped him pass for normal in between feeding a relentless appetite that was anything but.

“Well?” She jumped back into the water, making a loud splash. “I have another dozen laps to do. Are you going to join me or sunbathe?”

All his senses tingled, and he longed to get closer to her. What the hell was he doing, making a friend or stalking prey? His life had become a blur of mixed intentions, and he’d better figure them out fast. He approached the steps and dunked his foot in the pool. The water was a pleasant temperature, perhaps ten degrees cooler than the warm air. Becoming acclimated as he went, he slowly descended the steps, wading to his chest, and looked up at the palm fronds fluttering in the breeze. “I always wanted to see Los Angeles.”

“This is one of the prettier parts of town, if I should even call this place a town. Not all of its so nice. There’s a shabby side.”

That was good news. He needed a shabby side, a place to feed unnoticed. A sparkling pool overlooked by a hundred open windows was not a vampire’s ideal hunting territory, and even if it was, he couldn’t picture himself ever harming Madelyn. He might fantasize about kissing her throat and stealing a bite just to drive himself mad with desire, but it would never happen. She reminded him too much of someone—but who?

Madelyn ducked beneath the surface and swam away with the stealth of a water sprite returning to her natural element.

A man wearing a too-tight shirt with straining buttons, a few wisps of lank silver hair combed over his sun-reddened forehead, approached the pool. He stood at the deep end puffing a reeking cigar and watching Madelyn swim underwater.

All Rory’s senses jumped to high alert. A ripple of anger passed through him. Who was this guy staring at Madelyn the way a bored cat watches a goldfish?

Madelyn lifted her face from the water and coughed. “Walter, stand back with that stinky thing. You know I hate them.”

“Maddy, where have you been?” Walter knelt and extinguished his cigar in the pool with a hiss.

Rory remained on the far side of pool pretending to be disinterested. Was any of this his business? No, but he couldn’t help himself. Were it not for his keen vampiric ears that heard the faint rustling of mice in the walls, he would never have been able to eavesdrop on every breathy word of the whispered conversation.

Walter glanced side to side to see if anyone was near. He looked past Rory as if he were someone of no consequence and spoke softly to Madelyn while gesturing with a damp cigar. “I waited for you at the bungalow, and you never showed up.”

Madelyn grasped the edge of the pool. “I never agreed to come.” She sounded agitated. “Don’t make me out to be a liar. What are you doing here? Are you trying to get roughed up?”

“I’ve changed, Maddy.” The cigar butt pointed to his heart and he made the sign of the cross. “I did some things that were wrong, really wrong, but I’m ready to make it up to you. Listen, big news. RKO wants to cast a diamond-in-the-rough type of gal to star opposite a tough guy, and naturally I thought of you.”

She hauled herself onto the pool’s edge holding her weight on her elbows. “Who’s the lead?”

Walter’s voice reduced to a low grumble. “Robert Mitchum.”

“Robert Mitchum? You’re dreaming, Walter. You don’t have those kinds of contacts anymore. We both know that.”

“Maddy, give me another chance. Let me make things square with you. All you have to do is meet with the director, be nice to him.... He has a guesthouse in Santa Barbara, a palace on the sand. Spend the weekend. Make a good impression. You’ll be a star. I promise—”

“Stop saying that. I’ve already fallen for this gag. You stole my paychecks and had me chasing all the wrong people. We’re done.”

“So I took a little cash off the top, but I always paid you back. What does Bill do for you?” Walter crouched down and got in Madelyn’s face. “It’s been months, and I still don’t see your name in lights.”

“Bill pays cash.” Moving beyond Walter’s reach, Madelyn pushed away from the edge and treaded water in the deep end. “At least I know what’s what. No lies or fantasies. I like it that way.”

Walter shot Rory a dirty look. “Whatcha staring at, buddy?”

Madelyn slapped the water. “Leave him out of this!”

“Don’t tell me the matinee idol is with you? He looks too young and too broke to be your type.”

“Rory works for Bill.”

A smirk twisted Walter’s mouth. “That makes sense. He’s the male version of you. So, is Bill using a different flavor of bait for the man trap?”

“The man trap is your game. I’m not anybody’s bait anymore, and neither is he. You should get outta here before Bill sends Hank downstairs and tosses your ass to the curb.”

Walter paced beside the pool, glancing nervously at the penthouse. “You were never just bait to me! You needed to meet the right people, and I tried to get you as many prime opportunities as possible. I knocked myself out and went into debt because I believed in you.” He pounded his fist against his chest. “Who chose every item of your new wardrobe and drove you to every audition? Who paid for your dental work and voice coaching? That wasn’t cheap. You’re an actress, Maddy. I saw your potential day one.”

“You whored me around for favors and earned your investment back. Don’t kid yourself. I don’t anymore. Those guys were never going to cast me in anything. We’re done.”

“Like hell we are! You owe me.” Walter spat on the hot cement, and it evaporated with a hiss. “I’ve got my eye on you, Maddy. You’re headed for a fall.”

He didn’t like Walter’s tone one bit. Why was he letting this happen? Wasn’t he Madelyn’s bodyguard?

Rory called out to Madelyn, “Is this man giving you trouble? Do you want me to escort him out?”

Madelyn turned; pain shone on her face. “It’s all right. My friend is leaving. We don’t need to cause a scene.” She glanced at Walter. “Do we?”

The muscles of Walter’s jaw twitched with tension. “You need me, Maddy,” he ground out from between gritted teeth. “I saw you first.”

She shook her head. “I’m not a penny on the ground hoping someone will stoop to pick me up.”

“It wasn’t always bad. Admit it, I got some things right. When you were with me, there was buzz. The big dogs asked for you by name. You were getting regular work. We were so close, Maddy.” Walter held his finger to his thumb until they almost touched. “You were almost a star. Gimme one more chance to get you the right role, so everybody can see how you light up the screen. It’s not too late to start—”

“Stop it, Walter! Leave before I scream.”

Walter headed toward the side gate. He turned to face the pool, barely suppressed rage flickering on his brow. “I hope you won’t regret this.”

The defiance on Madelyn’s face faded. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

For a moment Rory worried Walter might rush toward Madelyn shouting abuse, or even jump into the pool to throttle her. He tensed. If the slightest threatening move was made—a clenched fist, a snarling mouth, anything—he’d leap from the water like a shark and break Walter’s neck.

“Don’t ever forget, I’m watching you and I know what you’re up to. I’m never far away.” Walter turned and walked out. The gate closed behind him with a click.

Madelyn swam toward Rory, taking broad strokes across the surface. “We don’t have to say anything to Bill about this, do we?”

He shook his head. “I’m the new guy. I don’t have to say a word.”

When she reached the shallow end, she stood and walked toward him. Even though she was petite in height, her presence was powerful. The interaction with Walter had left her flushed, and he sensed it had taken a great deal of will to control her temper in front of Walter. She gazed into Rory’s eyes with a look of guarded confrontation. “How much of that exchange did you overhear?”

Should he lie? He found it impossible to look her in the eye, and instead squinted at the dark silhouettes of palms against a white sun. “It’s none of my business.” So why did it feel like it was?

“That’s not what I asked. I asked how much you overheard.”

“I heard everything.” The words were said before he could stop himself.

“Good.” She sounded ready to strike at his next comment as ruthlessly as she might swat an annoying fly that insisted on crawling across her lips. “Now it’s out there and I don’t have to explain myself.”

He wished she would explain her situation. He didn’t understand it at all, not really. She was a queen, and they were a bunch of jacks. “I don’t like how Walter talked to you.”

“It’s just talk.” A slow, slippery smile lifted the edges of her lips. “Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me.”

How many times had poorly chosen words crushed him? “We both know that’s a lie.”

“Yeah, you’re right, but who wants to think about it. Walter says one thing, Bill says another. Variations on a theme. Hell, everybody gets used for something, so what’s the use whining about it.”

He was painfully aware she had moved closer. Water droplets shimmered like diamonds on her skin. She touched a faded scar on his chest, gently tracing her finger across the slight indentation. “It looks like a tiny arrow pointed at your heart. How did you get this?”

The scar was a lasting souvenir from his human life. If he told her that three decades ago, during the Great War, in a flooded trench near Ypres, he had tripped over a submerged sandbag and nearly fallen on the tip of a bayonet that a sleeping solider had allowed to stray from a slack hand, she’d never believe him. “I don’t remember.”

“Don’t remember or don’t want to say?” Her hand grazed his chest. “This was a deep cut made by a sharp edge. I think you would have remembered it.”

Everything that ever happened to him before he was turned was a vivid moment to be treasured and relived as often as possible. Even a blade that came too close to his heart. Those short years as a human were the only ones that mattered. His greatest fear was that those moments would eventually fade and slip away, so he took his memories out at every opportunity to examine, savor, and commit them ever deeper into his being because he suspected, horror of horrors, he might outlast them. And what then would he be, merely an undead thing without a human soul to ground him?

Madelyn withdrew her hand. “You look uncomfortable. You don’t like to be touched, do you?”

He nearly screamed in denial, so loudly he’d crack the sky. He longed for touch, but seldom gave into the desire for fear that in a moment of distraction he’d commit a conscience-shattering atrocity. God forgive him, it had happened.

She moved away. “I’m sorry. I’ll leave you alone so you can swim.”

It was a foolish thing to do, but he grabbed her hand and pulled her against him. He looked into her eyes, and she stared back with a look of surprise. “I don’t know how to swim.”

“Oh.” With her free hand, she slicked her dark hair from her face. “No one ever showed you? All the time you spent at sea, weren’t you scared?”

Drowning had been the least of his worries. “I can dog-paddle but nothing like what you can do. You’re a dolphin.”

She led Rory to the edge of the pool. “I can teach you. It’s easy. The hard part is learning to relax. Hold on to the edge. Stretch out and let yourself float.”

The offer was meant to be kind, but she had no idea what she had awakened in him. “Now?”

“Yes, now!” She laughed. “I can’t teach you to swim on the penthouse carpet.”

Wary he could be taught anything new at this stage of his existence, he grasped the side of the pool and allowed her to lift his ankles.

“See.” She held his feet. “Spread out across the surface. Take up room. Our bodies want to float. As an act of trust, take a deep breath, hold it, and put your face under the water and keep holding your breath.”

He did as he was told. Looking around at the curved plaster walls of the pool, everything appeared larger than it actually was, which fascinated him. Blurred shadows and streaks of light rippled across the bottom making interesting patterns. Watching them had a hypnotic effect. The chlorine stung his eyes, but he stayed under until long after his lungs burned for fresh air. He raised his head with a gasp. Water sheeted down his face and he accidently inhaled some, causing him to cough.

“Are you all right?” Madelyn patted his back. “You held your breath for so long, I was getting worried. If you hadn’t been moving, I would have pulled you up. You’re a ringer, aren’t you? I’ll bet your hobby is pearl diving.”

Good Lord, inhaling water hurt. He managed to laugh in between coughs. “You told me to hold my breath, so I did.”

Her eyes crinkled at the edges. “I didn’t mean indefinitely. Ready for more?” She extended her hands and he took hold of them. “Let’s play tugboat. I’ll pull you around the pool and all you have to do is kick your feet and blow bubbles.”

Was she joking? “Tugboat? It sounds like a child’s game.”

“It is a child’s game, and yes, someone should have already taught you to swim when you were a kid, but it’s not too late.”

Maybe she was right and he could enjoy a few things he’d never had the opportunity to sample in life. He allowed her to pull him into deeper water.

Madelyn held his arms in front as she walked backward through the pool, towing him in her wake with her gaze locked on his. “Kick your feet, put your mouth in the water, and blow bubbles.” Her tone was sugar sweet.

God help him, he did it and it was worth it. Watching Madelyn’s face light up every time he did something silly was a delight. When she laughed, her sparkling eyes were full of mischief.

“Hey, Maddy!” a male voice boomed from behind.

Rory glanced up. It was Hank, looking sweaty and hot with his thick neck ready to burst his snug shirt collar. He resembled a bullfrog dressed as a man.

Madelyn drew Rory to the shallow end and released her grasp. “What is it? Why are you here? The afternoons are mine.”

The heavy features of Hank’s face remained devoid of expression. “Who was that guy who was just here?”

“Nobody,” Madelyn answered too quickly.

“Save time and gimme his name.” Hank’s mouth tightened to a thin line. “There’s no use holding back, Floyd already got his license plate. We’ll know soon enough.”

Appearing nervous, Madelyn drummed the surface of the pool with her fingers. “Why are you even here, Hank, to spy on me? Did Bill send you down to investigate, or are you policing me on your own?”

“I came down to pass along a message.” Hank dug his fists into his trouser pockets; his jacket parted on a broad chest and a shoulder holster stuffed with twin pistols became visible. “Plans have changed. Bill wants you both ready to work by five.”

Disappointment flooded Madelyn’s face. “Five? Why so early?”

“Don’t know. Bill said five, so be ready.”

She rolled her eyes and waded toward the pool steps. “Fun time’s over. I gotta style my hair. It doesn’t dry and curl itself. These things take time. I’ll have to do my own manicure too. Does Bill ever think of that? No.” She climbed out of the pool and strolled toward the lounge where she had left her robe, picked it up, and slipped her arms inside the sleeves.

Rory was quick to follow, fighting the impulse to stare at Madelyn’s shapely legs while Hank stared resentfully at him. Unlike Geno, who seemed to be smitten with Madelyn, Hank’s coldness radiated a sense of threat.

Madelyn smiled at Rory. “We didn’t get to finish what we started. I’ll give you a rain check.”

Concern creased Hank’s forehead. “Rain check for what? What are you talking about?”

“Don’t be so nosey.” Madelyn took hold of Hank’s lapels and drew them together, concealing the holster and guns. “It’s totally innocent.”

Hank pinned both of Madelyn’s delicate hands beneath his meaty one. “I’ll be as nosey as I need to be,” he whispered with menace. “Don’t forget why you’re here and what your job is.”

Pulling her hand free, Madelyn wiped it on the robe as if she’d touched a noxious thing. “I could never forget.” She pushed herself away from Hank and darted toward the glass door.

Rory grabbed his towel, wound it around his waist, picked up his sandals and shirt, and followed Madelyn inside. They crossed the lobby, making a beeline for the elevator.

“Is he behind us?” she whispered.

Rory glanced over his shoulder. The lobby was empty. “No.”

“Good.” Her shoulders relaxed. “If you do see him, don’t hold the door for him.” The chrome elevator opened, and the elderly man in the red uniform blinked like an owl.

“Going up?”

Madelyn held her hands as if in prayer with a pleading expression. “Herb, could we ride alone?”

Herb stepped out of the elevator. “Yes, Miss Porter, but that’s the second time today. Do you want to get me fired?” He chuckled an uneasy laugh.

“Thank you.” She kissed Herb’s cheek, darted inside the elevator, and hit P. Rory stood beside her. It wasn’t until after the doors closed and the ascent began that Madelyn exhaled a long sigh.

A slight tremble passed through her, and the thought struck: She’s afraid of Hank. Poor thing, why should that be? When he looked at her, she was already looking back at him with tears hovering on her lashes. It was all he could do to not draw her into his arms and promise her he could make Hank go away permanently. No one would ever suspect his killer was an undead man.

“My life must look pretty shitty to you.” Gloom had settled on her brow. “I’m a pet on a short leash. Get dolled up, go here, go there, lift your skirt and let some jerk grind against you on a sofa.... I’m doing what I have to do, but it’s not forever.”

Nothing was forever, except vampirism. “If you’re unhappy, why do it at all?”

She hung her head. “Have you ever wanted something so bad you’d be willing to do anything to get it?” Her gaze misted. “It happens for other girls, they get breaks, so why can’t it happen for me?”

Why was it clear to anyone outside the situation that the people Madelyn trusted were dangling imaginary carrots in front of her face? What she longed for wasn’t theirs to give and never would be.

“Rory.” Her hand stroked his arm. “Do you know that saying, misery enjoys company? It’s a fucking lie. Once we’re upstairs, I want you to grab your duffel bag, make up an excuse, and leave. It doesn’t matter where you go, just go.”

The elevator arrived at the penthouse floor. The door opened, but Rory barred Madelyn from exiting. “You wanted me as a bodyguard. What changed?”

Her forehead creased in irritation. “Don’t ask me that. I’m trying to be square with you and do you a favor. Got it?”

He held the door static. “Madelyn.” He tried to catch her eye, but she refused to look at him. “Why do you stay?”

Her gaze wandered, and a lingering silence hung in the air. “You seem like a nice guy. You haven’t seen anything, or actually done anything. It’s not too late. Take a cab to Union Station, hop on a train, and go.”

Should he say something? He was crazy if he did. “If this is such a bad place to be, maybe we should both go.”

“Run away? Seriously? Bill doesn’t take kindly to people who let him down.”

He touched her arm, and she recoiled slightly from its coolness. “Aside from room and board, what does Bill do for you? You said it yourself—the clock is ticking. Why stay?”

Licking her lips, she appeared anxious. “I owe Bill. I promised him a favor months ago, and once I do it, I leave on my own terms. Not like a frightened pigeon darting away from a hawk.”

“Is that how it is? Bill intimidates you?”

“Bill knows people who scare me, and they should scare you too.” She glanced furtively down the hall. Her voice lowered. “This is not the place for this conversation.”

He got in her face. “Where can we have this conversation?”

Agitation made her eyes look a bit wild. “Later tonight. We can talk in the car. If we’re lucky, Hank won’t tag along.”

The more he heard, the less he liked his new position. “I want you to know, I’m not afraid of Hank or anyone else, and you don’t need to be either. We can find a way out. Trust me.”

“Trust you? You’re overselling yourself! You don’t know these people. Come down to earth and be realistic.” Madelyn pointed to her face. “I’m a stranger. You don’t really know me. The cover doesn’t match the book. You might not like my story.”

“I might.” Why did she make his heart ache just talking to her? “If you told me your story.”

“Why? I’m not your problem.”

His voice dropped to hushed tones even though the corridor was empty. “Does Bill have something on you?”

She drew her fingertip across her lips as if sealing them.

All his instincts warned him not to let her walk back into the damn penthouse. “If you told me what you needed, I could help.”

“How?” She flung her hands up and let them fall. “If it’s not Walter, it’s Bill. If it’s not Bill, it’s the next creep. The line’s a mile long and someday soon, there’ll be no one in line. I always put my faith in the wrong guy. Story of my life.” She shoved against his arm. “Let me out of this goddamned elevator.”

His arm remained locked in place like an iron bar holding her back. Her mood had swung 180 degrees from earlier in the day when she’d been so friendly and buoyant. The ugly confrontations with Walter and Hank had brought out her shadow side, and the bitterness he saw there stung. “Madelyn, if you need a friend, I’m here. If you want a favor, ask. I’m capable of more than you know.”

She swallowed hard, as if it physically hurt to take the thought in. “Why would you do that for me? We just met.”

“You tried to teach me to swim.” All his long existence, no one else had offered. He didn’t have anyone in this world who he could put himself on the line for. Looking after someone else would feel so good. “I’m staying. Let me help.”

Her brows knitted. “There are things I still have to do, and I don’t want you to judge me for them.”

He remained silent. Of all people, he was the least fit to pass judgment on another. “I won’t.”

She shoved his arm aside and stepped out of the elevator. “We’ll see.” Taking long strides, she marched down the hall toward suite three.