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The Forever Kiss

They continued between the rows of cars until he pointed an electronic key fob at a black Lexus. The trunk lid popped open obediently, and he began stowing her luggage inside with that same quick, effortless strength she'd noticed before. There were more suitcases in there than just her own, and Val wondered if Ridgemont habitually kept his luggage packed in case he was called out of town.

Finally McKinnon closed the trunk and moved to open the front passenger door. She hesitated, her stomach jittery, her mouth dry. Imagination, she told herself. Get in the car, you idiot.

"Ms. Chase?" McKinnon turned to loom, his uniformed chest a solid wall of black.

Val licked her lips and stared up into his dark eyes. When she realized she was searching for a scarlet glow, she swore silently at herself and got into the Lexus, impatient with her own neuroses.

A nagging thought struck her as she settled into the butter soft leather seat. Didn't people who rode with chauffeurs normally sit in the back of the car?

Glancing behind her, she saw the back seat was full. A battered blue canvas gym bag sat on the seat, along with ... Was that a sheathed sword? And the kite-shaped metal thing standing in the floorboard looked just like a shield. "Does Mr. Ridgemont collect medieval weaponry?"

McKinnon hadn't yet closed the door. As she watched, frowning, he crouched on the pavement beside her and took her right hand in his, reaching into a back pocket with the other. The glare of the parking lot security lights cast a harsh glow over the sharp planes of his face, making him look white and gaunt beneath the bill of his chauffeur's cap.

A seventeen-year-old memory rose in her mind.

He hunched on his knees on her bedroom floor, his black eyes burning, empty and feral. He was big, almost as big as the German who'd attacked Mama, but the bones of his face stood out as if hadn't eaten in weeks. His clothing hung on his body, and he shook in racking quivers. In a voice that barely sounded human, he rasped, "Get out. Run before he makes me kill you."

He had fangs like a wolf.

She felt a weird plummeting sensation, as if the ground had suddenly dropped out from under her feet. "You're the third vampire. You're the one he sent to kill us. You were with them when they murdered my parents."

He flinched and tensed. As he lifted his head, the shadow of the cap's brim fell across his nose - just the way the Stetson's always had.

"Cowboy, you son of a bitch!" She drove her fist toward his elegant nose with every ounce of her strength.