They returned to the dance floor. The band played a soft ballad, and the center of the room was full of couples holding each other as they turned in slow circles.

Rory slipped his arm around Madelyn’s waist, sensing the tension in her spine. She was scared or nervous, but it didn’t show on her face.

“I need a drink,” she muttered. “But I’d better wait.”

He needed to drink too, but nothing behind the bar—with the exception of the bartender—would slake his rising thirst. The throng of warm bodies pressed close and so many beating hearts gathered together in one place made him eager to pounce. He wanted to drink blood so badly a cold sweat broke out on his brow. Each thought had to be monitored, every flicker of emotion held in check. This wasn’t the time or the place to sprout fangs and run amok. This was exactly the sort of dangerous situation he sought to avoid.

As they approached Dorin’s table, Madelyn’s hips seemed to sway a little slower and a little farther to each side in a provocative rhythm. She was pouring it on, and all male eyes in the room stole a glance or outright stared.

Dorin stood, looking more somber than debonair in his black tux. His flat, almost menacing gaze was at odds with his almost-pretty Cupid’s bow mouth. As Madelyn neared he nodded to her, causing a long lock of hair to slide free of its carefully combed side part and fall in front of one eye. He peered at her through the curtain of hair like a hermit witnessing the arrival of his first houseguest in fifty years. His nervous tension hung in the air as he motioned for them to sit. “So, are we moving ahead?”

Madelyn beamed her best winning smile, a crimson-and-pearl triumph. “Of course, but Mr. Boven has arranged for something a little more private than this.” She pointed toward some tented booths set behind a grove of faux coconut palms with toy monkeys perched in the fronds. “Shall we move the party over there?”

Dorin stepped from behind the table and took long, swift strides across the dance floor, as if he feared being mistaken for a dancer and pulled into step with everyone else. “Do you dance, Miss Porter?”

“Yes.” Madelyn had no problem keeping up with Dorin’s swift strides. “I dance professionally and act.”

“How fortunate.” Dorin swept his hair into place and patted it down. A second later, a lock fell free and was back in his eyes again. “I wish I were more physically inclined.”

Rory strolled two paces behind, watching Dorin’s every move, and tried to figure out what made this man so damn strange.

They arrived at a stylish Bedouin-style tent made of heavy canvas. A waiter pulled the tent flap aside, allowing Madelyn to enter first. The inside was furnished with folding safari-style chairs, an ornately inlaid Moroccan table, and stained-glass lanterns that cast shards of green and blue light in every direction.

The waiter stood at attention. “What would the lady like to drink?”

Madelyn sat on one of the overly delicate-looking chairs. “I’d like a Bijou cocktail, extra Chartreuse, please. I like it sweet.” She looked expectantly at Rory.

He had no idea what he wanted from the bar and didn’t care. “A scotch.” Which he had no intention of drinking. Good thing the tent contained several potted palms that looked like they could benefit from an extra watering.

Dorin’s steely gaze confronted the waiter. “My hopes are not high, but I’ll ask anyway. I would like a glass of Țuică.”

Looking perplexed, the waiter leaned closer. “Sir, what is flee-ka? I’ll see if we have any.”

As he spoke, Dorin moved his hands in such a way that he appeared to be finger painting the air. “It’s a Romanian specialty made from fermented plums harvested midsummer and distilled twice. The best is old Țuică aged ten years in an oak barrel. It must be a pale pearlescent yellow, but never cloudy. If it is cloudy, it is no good.”

The waiter’s jaw dropped. He thought. “I don’t believe we have anything like that, but I will ask. Do you have a second choice?”

“Brandy. Neat,” Dorin said with a sense of letdown.

“Brandy, we got!” The waiter’s face lit. “I’ll be right back.” He left the tent.

Dorin’s attention riveted on Madelyn. “Do you have something to show me?”

Madelyn tapped Rory’s hand. “The waiter will be gone for at least ten minutes. Would you please close the tent flap?”

Rory did as he was asked.

She set the manila envelope down on the table and slid it toward Dorin. “All the documentation is in here, including photographs taken at the site and discovery timelines. I brought only a sample of the shipment into the club. To see the rest you will have to negotiate and make a partial payment.”

Dorin waved her comment away. “I don’t need documentation. If these are genuine, I will know immediately.”

If these are genuine? Rory drifted closer to the table. What was this about? He’d been convinced Madelyn was carrying opium in the bag and was puzzled that his keen nose couldn’t pick up its cloyingly sweet scent.

Madelyn set the black bag on the table and unzipped it. She lifted her face and looked at Dorin with a wary expression. “Am I allowed to touch it? Perhaps you would like to remove it?”

Dorin held up a trembling hand. “Please do the honors. I don’t believe I can trust myself at this moment. I’ve waited such a long time for this.”

She carefully removed a plain rosewood box, broke the wax seal with her thumbnail, and opened the lid. The moment she did, a sultry scent redolent of roses and amber filled the air.

Dorin closed his eyes, placed his elbows on the table, leaned closer, and sniffed. “After four hundred years, Romanian holy water smells as fresh as the day it was sprinkled. It’s made from only the purest damask roses. The original rosebushes were collected as treasure during the Crusades and bought to the monastery of Saint Ardelean, deep in the forests of Transylvania.” He motioned for Rory to approach. “Can you smell it over there? It’s heavenly, or do you not care for holy water?”

“I can smell it.” Rory glanced away to avoid being caught in a smirk. He didn’t give a damn about holy water. It had no effect on him whatsoever, but he knew that wasn’t true with certain vampires, usually the outright evil ones who’d lost their human conscience completely. Those sorts were horribly sensitive to it and avoided contact for the lasting chemical burns it caused.

Dorin beamed. “That smell proves we are on the right track.”

Poor sod. Whatever this was about, he strongly suspected Mr. Dorin was about to get conned. Did it not occur to him that it would be a simple thing to sprinkle fresh rose water inside the box and re-melt and reattach the seal? The only puzzling detail was he’d been close to Madelyn and never noticed the scent. His nose rivaled that of any wolf. Had a wax seal truly trapped the fragrance so effectively that his sharp sense of smell missed it, or was something else going on here?

Madelyn reached inside the rosewood box and retrieved a second, smaller container wrapped in scarlet silk heavily embroidered with gold thread and held together with a gold clasp. A motif of golden crucifixes covered the cloth and fit the box like the ornate jacket of a tiny emperor. The fabric was so old it appeared ready to disintegrate at the seams. With a delicate touch, she unfastened the clasp and drew the cloth away to reveal a carved ivory case with crucifix filigree embellishing the top and sides.

“Open it.” Dorin’s tone was brusque.

Glancing over her shoulder to make sure the waiter was not at the entrance of the tent, she pulled the lid off the box and peered inside. Atop a moldering piece of felt was a human molar, stained by time. Madelyn recoiled. “Oh.”

Did he miss something? Surprised the box had not contained something more precious, Rory scanned the cloth for further clues.

With the speed of a snake striking, Dorin reached for the tooth, held it against the colored light of the lantern, and smiled. “It’s the real thing.” He stared in fascination. “I’ll pay now and ask that the rest of the contents of the case be delivered to my residence immediately.”

Madelyn smoothed her hands against the table. “We haven’t negotiated a price yet. We need to nail down a number.”

“We don’t have to.” Dorin gently set the molar back into its miniature sepulture. “I’ll double any amount you might ask, but I want everything in that suitcase—every scrap. Do you understand?”

“Of course, sir. You’ll get everything.” Madelyn shifted in her chair. “Perhaps while we are enjoying our drinks, we could arrive at a concrete price, and then I’ll call Mr. Boven and make arrangements about delivery of the rest of the—”

“No drinks! I’m too excited to wait. It’s a nicety and general waste of time now that we already have a deal in play.” Dorin rose, dug his hand inside his jacket, and withdrew a thick wad of bills secured with a money clip. He tugged two tens free, far more than was required, and tossed them on the table. “We’re finished here. I insist we complete our business in the privacy of my home.”

“Hold on!” Madelyn lifted her hands into the air. “I’m not going anywhere until I see at least five thousand on the table.”

Rory whistled. If he understood the exchange rate correctly, that was a fortune and more than enough to purchase a new house.

Remaining staunch, Dorin crossed his arms. “I’m not trying to trick you. In fact, you are going to be pleasantly surprised by all that I am about to offer. Mr. Boven will be so proud of your abilities to drive a price.” A saccharine grin did nothing to add to his attempt at sincerity. “My car is parked in front. If you want the money now, you have only to stroll out the lobby door. Where is the risk in that?”

Madelyn slipped the ivory box back inside the rosewood box and held it protectively against her chest. “I don’t like risks. I’m not going to your car or anywhere with you. You can bring the money here.”

Dorin balked. “Flash a case full of bills around a crowded club? I think not. Come with me. Besides, I have a proposal for the two of you, and I’m prepared to be very generous.”

A huff of disgust crossed Rory’s lips. This guy was probably a pervert.

“How many ways do I have to say no?” Madelyn’s brow arched. “A girl has to be practical. I don’t take rides from strangers, especially when large amounts of cash are owed.”

Dorin pointed at Rory and took a snide jab. “You feel unsafe in my presence, even with the protection of your dashing companion? He looks a bit dangerous, and more than capable of keeping me in my place. Besides, you’re misunderstanding me. There’s a briefcase in my car containing twenty thousand dollars in nonsequential, unmarked bills, and that’s only half. When the deal is finalized, come to my home and I’ll give you another twenty K. But three is company; four is a bore. Lose the big guy who lumbered into the club on your heels. Let’s remain discreet and keep this between the three of us.”

Madelyn shook her head. “No deal. Hank sticks with us.”

Knotting his fingers together, Dorin appeared agitated. “I’m eager to get the deal closed. Perhaps you’ll ride with me in my car so that we can discuss—”

“No.” Madelyn’s reply was terse. “We’ll follow you in our car, and I’ll call Mr. Boven first and tell him where we’re going.”

“Fine.” Dorin bowed to Madelyn, acknowledging her as the formidable negotiator she was. “What can I do to speed this along? Take my money. I want my stuff! If a call is all we’re waiting for, have that thick-necked gorilla you brought with you telephone Mr. Boven and let’s get this deal rolling. My home is an infinitely more comfortable place for our exchange.”

Why did this guy want to take them home so badly? Pacing the tent, Rory never reached a satisfactory answer beyond perversion.

“Rory,” Madelyn called. “Do you see Hank on the dance floor?”

He went to the tent flap and drew it aside. The floor was full of couples. The band played some sentimental ballad sung by a copper-haired chanteuse in a green sequined dress. Amongst the dancers, leaning against a palm and standing out like an unscrubbed potato set atop a stack of shiny red apples was Hank, wearing a sour expression like a bad smell had offended him. Rory waved.

Hank looked his way and began to amble across the dance floor, bumping into people and sloshing their drinks onto their shirts and disrupting couples as he went. When he reached the tent, he yawned. “What do you want?”

Rory peered over Hank’s shoulder. “Look at that, you have the entire room’s attention for all the wrong reasons! Could you possibly have been any clumsier? Everyone’s watching you and no doubt waiting for an apology.”

“I’m tired.” Hank blinked. “And I hate this fancy-smancy music. I wish that red-headed satin doll would pick up the beat. What do you want?”

Bill’s hints about having someone killed coalesced. It all became clear, and so tempting to act on the suggestion. “Go to the phones, call Bill, and tell him Dorin is paying twenty thousand up front and wants me and Madelyn to go to his home and close the deal.”

“Twenty K? Wowza!” Hank’s lethargic hound-like eyes flew open. “What was in that suitcase? Bars of gold? Fuck yes, I’m coming with you.”

Too bad he wasn’t invited. “Make the call, now, and meet us out front.”

Hank’s lips curled. “When did you become the boss? I’m Italian. I don’t take orders from a Paddy who just stumbled ashore.”

“Just do it.” Rory allowed the tent flap to close in Hank’s face. He turned. Dorin was leaning too close to Madelyn. It didn’t show on her face, but her discomfort with his proximity was palpable. He walked behind Madelyn and put his hand on the small of her back. “Let’s go out front and see what Mr. Dorin has to offer.”

Dorin leered at the sight of Rory’s hand touching Madelyn, but he quickly snatched his gaze away. “It’s not Mr. Dorin. Dorin is my first name. A formal introduction will be made later.” He grinned. “And all the jagged little pieces will fall into place.” Tilting his head, he studied Madelyn from the side. “Are you two a couple, or are you just pretending?”

Madelyn stood with such force she nearly knocked her chair over. “Let’s stick to business. Personal information is none of your business.”

“I’m just curious.” Dorin pouted. “You look very frumos together.”

“We look like what?” Madelyn’s gaze darted toward Rory.

“Frumos. In Romanian, it means highest form of beauty. You look like a matched pair of fine thoroughbreds. It is a compliment.”

What is this character implying?

Madelyn sighed. “Now you just sound like a creep, Mr. Dorin. Let’s get this over with.” She strolled out of the tent onto the dance floor and made a beeline for the exit.

Rory was on her heels, and Dorin followed on his. They left the romantic atmosphere of the club and crossed the emerald-green carpet in long strides. Madelyn’s gait had lost its earlier voluptuous sway and had become determined and direct. She crossed the foyer first, pushed the glass door open with a shove, and waited under the awning for them to catch up with her. Her gaze narrowed on Dorin. “Where are you parked? I’m not following you into a dark alleyway.”

“You won’t have to.” Dorin pointed toward the white Bugatti, dramatically bathed in pink and green floodlights and conspicuously parked in full view of all who entered the hotel.

A skinny valet, barely out of his teens, loped up to them with an expectant expression. “Leaving already, Mr. Dorin.” He bowed as he handed over the keys. “I kept a close eye on your car. Man, that’s a swell car! Everybody thinks so. I even chased a guy away who wanted to take a cheesecake photo of his girlfriend sitting on the hood.”

Dorin reached inside his jacket, removed a ten-dollar bill from the money clip, and held it midair between two fingers for the valet to retrieve. “You did the right thing.”

The valet snatched the bill like a hungry sea lion taking a sardine from its trainer.

“Now leave us alone.” Dorin waved the valet away with a limp hand. “I have a little tailgate business to attend to, and I would appreciate your keen eyes on the parking lot to prevent anyone from walking up on us.”

“Yes, sir!” The valet bounded to his key station and stood at attention with his back turned to the Bugatti.

Dorin opened the trunk that was as spacious as a broom closet and brushed a green woolen blanket aside. Beneath was a leather case with a padlock. He searched his key fob for a tiny brass key and sprang the lock.

Rory crowded closer. People were crossing the parking lot and headed into the hotel. Should they be doing this out in the open? The Bugatti attracted attention like a fire siren.

Madelyn’s gaze met his, and she didn’t appear the least bit concerned. She looked impatient.

Dorin opened the case. It was packed to brimming with bundled stacks of bills. “Twenty K. You can count it here or at my house. Counting this much dough might take a while, so I would advise you to do the clerical work in my study where we can enjoy drinks and talk a little business as well.”

She looked wary. “What sort of business?”

“For one, I owe you another twenty K, and you owe me a suitcase.” A smile that looked like it caused him pain flicked on Dorin’s lips.

“That’s one, what’s two?” Madelyn’s gaze was insistent.

Dorin pointed to Rory. “The second part of my business is not for you, it’s for him. And that will be a private discussion.”

Madelyn huffed. “Not so fast.” She leaned into the trunk and lifted a random stack of bills and fanned through it. “All tens.” Digging her hand deeper into the case, she selected another stack and rifled through it. “And a few C notes.” Setting the money down, she straightened. “It looks legit.” Closing the case, she removed the lock and fastened the latch. “Rory, would you get that.”

Rory reached for the case and was surprised by its weight. He stepped back.

Dorin halted Rory’s next move with a body block. “Hold on! You’re both coming with me.”

Shaking her head, Madelyn frowned. “No, we’re not. We’re putting the money in our car and driving ourselves.”

Dorin appeared alarmed. “In good faith, I paid you four times what you asked for and then offered to double it! Now I’m the one left wondering if I’m being taken.”

She crossed her arms in front as a silent signal of defiance. “Mr. Boven’s solid reputation in this town is your guarantee.”

“Miss, you are not Mr. Boven. At the very least, hand over the tooth.”

With outstretched hands, Madelyn passed the rosewood box to him. “A reasonable request, considering we’re taking the cash.”

Dorin was quick to claim it from her. “You must come to my home and complete this transaction.”

Madelyn remained defiant. “Better give us good directions. We don’t know where you live.”

“I live on the remote edge of the Hollywood Hills. The roads are winding, and the street signs, when you can see them, are often confusing. You may follow me.”

Rory glanced around. Hank was nowhere in sight. “We’ll have to wait for our friend.” Even just as a social nicety, calling Hank a friend was taxing.

“We need not bother.” Dorin made an expansive gesture. “Your brute knows where I live. He dropped something off at my home earlier today.”

Madelyn shot Rory a worried look. “What did he drop off?”

“A goodwill gesture from Mr. Boven.” Dorin turned. “Look, there’s your creature now, lumbering across the lobby and working his jaw like a cow. I hope he doesn’t spit tobacco on the foyer carpeting like he tried to do on my veranda.”

Hank burst through the door and stomped toward them. “The boss says take what’s offered and close the deal at Dorin’s house.”

Madelyn held a finger to her lips. “Don’t shout.”

“See?” Dorin looked pleased with himself. “We’re all going to my house. Lucky me. I love to entertain.”

Eyeing the Bugatti, Hank’s mouth gaped. “Nice set of wheels. Can I—”

“No.” Dorin slammed the trunk shut. “Don’t be ridiculous. You may not drive the car.” He walked to the driver side, opened the door, and climbed in. With his chin raised, he slid the key into the ignition and turned the engine over. The car came to life with a powerful purr. “Where are you parked?”

Rory pointed to the Packard. “Next to you.”

Dorin’s mouth pinched to the shape of a tiny pink heart. “Well, get in and follow me!”

“What about me?” Hank stood with open palms. “We don’t need to take three cars, do we?”

Dorin’s lip curled. “You may ride with me, but no talking.”

Hank beamed as he swung the Bugatti’s door open and plopped himself down on the lush upholstery. He immediately caressed the polished burl wood dashboard. “Mighty fine.” Reaching over, he opened the glove compartment.

“No touching.” Dorin released the brake and inched forward, then slammed on the brakes and came to an abrupt halt. “On second thought, get out and drive yourself.”

Looking disappointed, Hank opened the car door and got out. He shuffled across the parking lot where he’d left the Ford.

Rory whistled to get the valet’s attention, but he refused to look their way, so Rory ran to the station and retrieved the keys to the Packard. Taking long, fast strides, he returned and unlocked, then opened the door for Madelyn. She bent her head and slid onto the seat, wrapping her scarf around her. He jogged around the front and opened the driver side, placing the briefcase behind the seat. Once they were inside the car, he whispered, “What do you think is going on?”

Madelyn bit down on her lip, scraping a bit of lipstick away. “I have no idea. This is the weirdest errand Bill has ever sent me on.”

He reached into his jacket and retrieved a handkerchief. “You have lipstick on your teeth.”

She accepted the handkerchief, leaned toward the rearview mirror, and grinned. “Oh my God. I look like I’ve been drinking blood.” She rubbed the stain away.

He stared in fascination, his heart racing. It was past hunting time. Privation and months at sea had caught up with him. Bloodlust was on the rise and had to be dealt with. He wanted to close his eyes, draw in the subtle scent of Madelyn’s powdery perfume, and dream about biting her throat.

“Hey!” She pointed to the far end of the parking lot. “Get moving, Dorin’s driving away.”

It shouldn’t be too difficult to tail a white Bugatti as big as a pilot whale, but it didn’t make sense to dawdle either. He steered the Packard between the palms and cruised down the palatial driveway lined with lit cypresses. “Madelyn.”

She glanced up, looking leery.

They came to the street and he made a left in Dorin’s wake. “What sort of errands do you usually do for Bill?”

Her chin dipped. “I’m not proud of what I do, but at least I’m not a whore.”

In his opinion, she had sold out and been cheated in the bargain. “What do you do?”

Madelyn opened her purse, reached for the packet of Sen-sens, and gave it a shake. “Do you want one?” She popped a black fleck onto her tongue.

He shook his head. One taste was enough to last a lifetime.

“I am Bill’s high-class mule. I get dolled up in elegant gowns, the sort of clothes I should be wearing on the big screen, and I get a chance to act. I act like I’m having a wonderful time, and I act like I’m happy, in control, and not worried about my piss-poor future. Bill sends me to Hollywood parties, the best hotels, and sometimes even into the private offices of studio executives. I’ll admit that situation stings. I run drugs, mostly opium from Hong Kong and cocaine from Panama. Bill has connections in the shipping industry, and that’s what gives him an edge. The product comes directly to him from the source. He’s done away with most of the middlemen. With all the traffic coming and going during the war, things got even easier. The demand was up, and it was always easy to find some lonely GI willing to carry his shipment ashore in exchange for a night on the town. Simple.”

Dorin ran a yellow light that instantly turned red, and Rory was forced to hit the gas to keep up. “But it’s not simple, is it?”

“No, it’s not. Bill uses me because it’s so much easier for a well-dressed woman to walk into a man’s hotel room with a suitcase, but even I’m getting squeezed. The cops know me now. They see me and they hassle me. I’m no longer a mystery woman, or some coddled starlet on the rise. I’m Bill’s girl, and for them to look the other way, I have to pay up. I’m worried.”

He was too. “About what?”

“About what’s next.” She tugged the bodice of her dress back into place. “My usefulness to Bill is running out. Thanks to Walter, my career will never take off. The pretense is over. Except for Luis, my life is a total fucking waste.”

The desperation in her voice was painful to hear. “That’s not true.”

She reached for a cigarette, but didn’t light it. “Oh, it’s true all right.”

Holding the steering wheel with one hand, he grasped her hand with the other, forgetting how cool it would feel in contrast to hers. “It doesn’t have to be.”

Madelyn patted his hand and appeared startled. “Do you need the heater on?”

“No.” It was a summer night, for God’s sake. “What else is inside Dorin’s suitcase?”

“I have no idea.” Her gaze scanned the city streets. “That disgusting tooth was a sickening surprise. What the hell was that about? Bill’s been expecting this shipment for months. He talks like what’s inside the case is going to change his life. He only briefed me about the partial contents this morning, after your buddy Captain Tomlinson sent a telegram that he was on approach.”

Tomlinson? Had the captain noticed more about him than his good shipboard manners? As a man who prided himself on seeing the details others missed, lately he seemed to have missed a lot of important details about others. He glanced in the rearview mirror to reassure himself that his eyes did not look as feral as he was beginning to feel. “Lucky me. I got picked to bring the case ashore.”

A sad smile formed and faded on her lips. “What makes you lucky?”

“I got to meet you.” There wasn’t the least trace of sarcasm in his voice, but he worried that unseen forces were once again on the move in his life.

“Me?” Madelyn rolled her eyes. “You need your luck to get a whole lot better than that.”

A cab tried to wedge its way between him and the Bugatti. He honked, hit the gas, and closed the gap, forcing the cab into another lane.

“How could a molar change Bill’s life?” she asked, but didn’t leave time for him to answer. “Until this morning, I was convinced the shipment must be some new sort of drug from some new source. But I was wrong. They don’t grow opium poppies in Transylvania, do they?”

Transylvania? There it was again. “I don’t believe so.” At the close of the war, he’d been in Romania, desperately trying to trace his vampiric lineage and see if there was any hope of ending his unfortunate condition once and for all. What was this about? “Is that where the suitcase originates from?”

“Yes. Bill said the shipment was all personal effects belonging to a man from Transylvania. He assured me that businesswise, we were moving up and weeding out the competition in Chinatown, but I don’t see how a single yellowed tooth is going to do all that. For all that’s unholy, that man Dorin is a creep. What’s up with that cat?”

He didn’t like the way Dorin looked at Madelyn, or at him for that matter. A quick glance in the rearview mirror assured him that Hank was right behind them, straddling two lanes in the black Ford and no doubt pissing off other drivers. The Bugatti turned onto Hollywood Boulevard, and they followed. “We’re almost back where we started. Where do you think this guy is leading us?”

Madelyn reached over and patted the gun stowed in Rory’s jacket. “I have no idea, but you have a gun, and Hank’s got at least two and probably a knife strapped to his calf. I got a sharp tongue. We should be all right.”

But what if they weren’t? Not every attacker could be banished with gunfire; he knew that all too well from firsthand experience. Besides, Madelyn had miscounted their available arsenal by two fangs.

Dorin turned onto a narrow road that ascended through a dark canyon lined with scrubby oaks.

He looked out the windshield. “I don’t see any houses around here, do you?”

Madelyn glanced out the window. “No. But you’d be surprised. The houses are hidden in little nooks and gullies. I don’t know this part of the hills that well, but you think you’re in the middle of nowhere, a million miles from the world, and then you turn a corner and pop onto a ridge top crowded with homes and you see all of Los Angeles sparkling at your feet. LA is weird that way. You’re close to everything and far from where you want to be at the same time.” A tremor of emotion crept into her voice that threatened to choke her next words. “This is my absolute last errand for Bill. I’m done with everything, even the dreaming. I should be home with Luis, not here.”

Rory dared to take his eyes off the winding mountain road, just long enough to glimpse the fleeting look of devastation on her face. Her true mood flashed in a twisted gasp of agony and then instantly smoothed itself away. Like a wave retreating from the shore, her personal pain drained from her features, leaving no visible trace. How did she do that?

“Madelyn.” Even as he said it, he knew his words would provide no comfort. “You have to live the life you’re given as decently as you can. No one gets the life they planned.”

“I know.” Again she opened her purse and reached for a cigarette, toyed with it but didn’t light it. “Six months from now, I’ll be fine. I’ll look back and say, ‘Why was I upset? I’m so happy now, in my new life as a God-knows-what....’”

“Something good could happen.” He couldn’t imagine what exactly, but it would definitely be an improvement for Madelyn to get as far from users and selfish men as she could get. But did that list of rogues include him?

A few turns were so sharp, despite following at close distance, the Bugatti all but disappeared from view. The road snaked higher and reduced to little more than a single precarious lane that threatened to send any inattentive driver hundreds of feet down a steep, shrubby hillside and onto the rocks of a streambed below.

Finally, they crested the mountaintop and saw the glittering grids of streetlights stretching toward the sea. At the end of an almost vertical driveway that clung to the ridge was an immense, dimly lit castle complete with turrets and snarling gargoyles perched atop its ramparts.

A middle-aged man, dressed in a pair of odd leather breeches that covered his legs only to the knees, jogged down the driveway and opened an iron gate tipped with spikes to allow the Bugatti to drive inside.

“We’re here.” Madelyn closed her purse and fluffed her scarf around her shoulders.

As his gaze scanned the convincingly authentic medieval architecture, he shuddered. “I hate castles.”

“Why?” Madelyn scoffed. “It’s charming, like something straight out of a fairy tale. I might have to rethink my opinion of Dorin.”

His human life had ended in a castle not unlike this one, and he didn’t have fond associations. This had to be the same castle Geno—or someone else—had warned him about in the note. Why? Were it not for Hank driving up to his bumper, he might have stomped on the brakes, turned around, and left. Now it was too late. He had to hit the gas hard to climb the almost vertical paved driveway.

“What’s wrong?” Madelyn leaned closer; a whiff of perfume came with her. “Your brows are butting heads. I get it that you don’t like this guy, but the sooner we get this over with, the sooner we’re done.” Her gaze wavered. “Ever been to Ensenada?”

He shook his head. “Where’s that?”

“Just an hour over the border in Mexico. They have these little bungalows on the beach painted sky blue. The surf’s beautiful. Whales swim past. If you catch fish, there’s an old woman who will clean and grill them for you, over mesquite, right on the sand. She pours tequila and lime juice on them and makes the skin crackle. Sounds nice, don’t you think?”

For both of them, or was she planning her fantasy escape now? “What about Luis?”

“The next time I see Luis, I’m putting my arms around him, holding on tight, and never letting him go.”

“Good. That’s what you need to do.” The climb ended at a circular drive lined with white rosebushes and imposing bronze statues of robed friars and bald priests, and a bubbling gothic fountain at its center. Rory followed the Bugatti to a series of covered parking stalls, shaded by an overgrown wisteria vine, and pulled the brake and turned off the engine, which kicked and rattled from the taxing climb. “Dorin certainly has eccentric tastes.”

Madelyn appeared wide-eyed. “I was going to say expensive. How much do you think something like this costs?”

He almost said it cost your soul. “A lot.” The wealth and effort it must have taken to drag the granite alone to this desert hilltop must have been staggering. Furnishing such a palatial mansion would require a second king’s ransom.

The door of the Bugatti opened, and Dorin stepped out and walked toward them. “I’m guessing by the astonished looks on your faces that you’re talking about me. I’m flattered.”

Rory got out of the car and hurried to the passenger side to open it for Madelyn before Dorin did. Everything about Dorin seemed to rub him the wrong way, and he was loath to feed his vanity. “The rosebushes are lovely. Your gardener has done a tremendous job.”

Hank parked, got out, and walked with an almost duck-footed stride, his big archless feet slapping the cobblestone drive. “It’s a fucking eagle’s nest up here! I was sure the radiator was going to crap out on me on that last bit of hill. Making the trip twice in one day is twice too many. What do you do about getting groceries up here—call a team of pack mules?” He laughed at his own joke.

Frowning, Dorin glanced away from Hank. “How amusing. Shall we go inside?”

Rory couldn’t shake the feeling that he shouldn’t, but he unlocked the trunk, placed the briefcase full of cash inside, then removed the suitcase covered in labels and waited for Madelyn to join him at his side. Whatever was going to happen to them was already underway, and it was best to meet it head on.