Dead Sexy

"In the park. Funny thing is, she was wearing a blue jacket just like the one I gave you last Christmas. If I didn't known better, I'd swear it was the same one. Hang on a minute." She heard him speak to someone, though she couldn't make out the words. "I'm back. Listen, I've got to go. Call me when you get home."

"Yes, I will." She broke the connection and dropped the phone back in her bag, then turned in her seat to face Santiago. "Flynn said they found another body."

"I heard."

So he had been listening.

"The body," Santiago said. "It was a warning."

"What do you mean?"

"I would be willing to bet that the blue jacket is yours. It is Vasile's way of telling me that he has not given up."

"He means to kill me to get even for Marishka, doesn't he?"

Santiago nodded. "I will not let that happen."

She wanted to believe him, but how could she? He had loved Marishka but he hadn't been able to protect her from Vasile.

Regan dozed again, waking when the car's motion stopped. Opening her eyes, she saw that the sky was growing light and the Speedster was parked in front of a nice motel. She noticed there was a restaurant across the street, an ice cream parlor, a strip mall, and a gas station.

A few moments later, Santiago emerged from the motel office. He slid behind the wheel, handed her a keycard, and drove around to the west side of the building. Pulling up in front of room number 13, he switched off the ignition and got out of the car.

Regan muttered, "Thirteen, bad luck," as she opened the door and went inside, leaving Santiago to retrieve their luggage from the trunk.

It was a nice room, actually two rooms and a bathroom. The walls were papered in a slick green print, the bedspreads and curtains were off-white, the carpet was a dark shade of green. The bathroom had both a tub and a shower. The larger of the bedrooms had a Satellite Screen; the remote was on the table beside the bed. A robot coffeemaker stood in one corner, ready to brew a fresh pot; cups of various sizes sat on the tray atop the robot's head.

Regan blew out a sigh. She was going to spend the day in here, keeping watch over a vampire while he slept in the next room. And what if he woke up hungry? She lifted a hand to her throat. In her years as an investigator with the police department, she had seen her share of vampire kills. Some of the victims died smiling. Most had died in pain and terror. Whatever had possessed her to agree to make this journey with Joaquin Santiago? She should have asked Flynn to go with her, or gone alone. She slipped her hand into her pocket, her fingers caressing the cold, smooth barrel of her gun. She had carried the weapon since becoming a hunter but, thankfully, she had only had cause to use it a few times. Her parents were less than enthusiastic about their only daughter's choice of a career. She had lost a steady boyfriend when she refused to quit her job.

Startled, she whirled around, the gun in her hand, when Santiago stepped into the room. "Sorry," she muttered. "Guess I'm a little on edge."

He grunted softly as he dropped their bags on the floor. He shut the door and punched in the lock code. He couldn't blame her for being twitchy, what with a vampire sharing her quarters and a werewolf trying to kill her.

"I am going to take a quick shower." He pulled a change of clothes from his bag, then headed for the bathroom. "Do not answer the door for anyone."

"Who would be… oh, right."

"Just so," he said, and going into the bathroom, he shut the door.

Regan put her suitcase on the bed and rummaged around inside for her nightgown and robe. She should get some sleep, too, she thought, if they were going to be driving at night and resting during the day. As long as she was hanging around with a vampire, her days and nights were going to be topsyturvy.

She paused when the shower came on. Unable to help herself, she imagined Santiago standing under the spray, water sluicing through his long black hair, streaming over his smooth, copper-colored skin, dripping over his broad shoulders, cascading over his muscular chest, down his hard flat belly and…

"Quit that!" she admonished, but the image wouldn't go away. She took a deep breath when the shower went off. Thank goodness. Maybe now she could concentrate on what she was doing.

And maybe not. Her heart did a somersault when Santiago stepped out of the bathroom wearing nothing but a pair of soft gray sweatpants. His upper torso was magnificent, taut and powerful. Had he always been that way, she wondered, or had he spent the last few hundred years pumping iron? He wasn't bulky. His muscles were corded and well-defined, hinting at the kind of strength she could only imagine.

He lifted one brow in wry amusement as she continued to stare at him. "Do you like what you see?"

"I've seen better," she retorted, embarrassed to be caught staring.

"Have you?"

She shook her head, unable to maintain the lie. "No."

"I thought not."

There it was again, she thought, that touch of smug masculine arrogance. Of course, in his case, it was well-deserved.

"If anyone comes to the door, wake me immediately."

"Will I be able to? Wake you?"

He nodded. "You understand that you are not to leave the room?"

"Yes."

"If you need anything, order it on the phone and be sure to ask for the name of the person who will be bringing it to you."

"All right." It was like being in a spy movie, she thought. All she needed was a password and a cyanide capsule. "What time do you, ah, get up?"

"An hour or so before sunset." He started toward the other bedroom, then paused and glanced over his shoulder. "If you need to wake me before then, speak before you approach the bed."

Her eyes widened, the question unspoken.

"It would not be wise for you to wake me without warning."

"Ah," she murmured. "I understand."

He smiled faintly, then, picking up his suitcase, he went into the small bedroom and closed the door behind him.

Regan stared at the door. She had seen sleeping vampires before. It was a creepy sight. They didn't breathe, they didn't move, and they had no heartbeat. Nor did they look like they were sleeping. They just looked dead. Did Santiago look like that? Or had the blood of the werewolf altered that, as well?

Thrusting all thought of Santiago and werewolves from her mind, she went into the bathroom and locked the door. Stepping into the shower stall, she switched on the controls and punched in the temperature of the water and the kind of bubbles she wanted, as well as the soap and shampoo she preferred. She took a long shower and then washed her hair. Later, after drying her hair, she pulled on her nightgown and went to bed.