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Cara stared at the man leering down at her through the window. He had spiked blond hair and a skull tattooed on one cheek. Four other, equally rough-looking young men stood behind him. Feeling like a rabbit caught in a trap, she stared back at them. Her first thought was that she was in big trouble, but then she remembered Di Giorgio. For a moment, the thought of her bodyguard comforted her—but only for a moment. Di Giorgio was good, but was he good enough to take on five men in their prime?
Even as the thought crossed her mind, Frank was there, gun in hand, demanding that the hoodlums move away from the car.
What happened next happened so fast, it was nothing but a blur. The five men all whirled around to face Di Giorgio. Moonlight and streetlights glinted on the guns and knives that appeared as if by magic in their hands.
She screamed as a hail of gunfire punctuated the quiet of the night.
One of the men fell back against the car, then slid to the ground. A second man collapsed on top of him. A third staggered away into the night, a dark stain spreading across the back of his shirt.
Another gunshot shattered the stillness of the night. Cara screamed Di Giorgio’s name as he stumbled backward, fell, and lay still.
The two remaining thugs were turning back toward her when a feral growl rose out of the darkness.
Cara peered out the window, but clouds had drifted across the moon and she couldn’t see anything clearly. Determined to defend herself or die trying, she opened the door and snatched up a gun one of the hoodlums had dropped, then closed the car door and locked it. She had never held a gun in her life or imagined herself in a situation where she would have to use one.
She looked out the window again, wondering what had happened to the remaining two men and if Di Giorgio was still alive. The street was eerily quiet and empty.
She had to get out of there, she thought frantically, but she couldn’t just drive off and leave Frank lying in the street. What to do, what to do? Go, she thought. Getting out of the car would be foolish when there were still three men out there somewhere in the dark. Once she was safely away, she could call 911.
She was fumbling with her car keys when a face appeared at the window.
A scream rose in her throat as she raised the gun, her finger curling around the trigger.
“Cara!”
Vince’s voice.
With a cry of relief, she dropped the gun on the passenger seat, opened the door, and practically fell into his arms.
“Are you all right?” His gaze moved over her. “Cara?”
“I’m…I’m fine. Di Giorgio…”
“He’s badly hurt. Open the back door. We need to get him to a doctor, pronto!”
She did as she was told, unable to stop the convulsive tremors that shook her from head to foot.
Vince settled Di Giorgio on the back seat, took one look at Cara’s pale face, and said, “I’ll drive.”
She didn’t argue. She put the gun on the floor and scrambled into the passenger seat. “What about the men that Di Giorgio shot? Are they dead?”
“The two in the street are dead,” Vince said flatly.
Cara glanced out the back window. “Three of them got away. I think one of them was wounded. Shouldn’t we call the police?”
“They didn’t get away.”
Cara stared at him. “But…”
“They’re all dead,” he said, and his voice was as cold and implacable as death itself.
Sinking back into the seat, Cara wrapped her arms around her middle, colder than she had ever been in her whole life. She wanted to ask how the men had died, but she was suddenly afraid of the answer.
When they reached the hospital, Di Giorgio was put on a stretcher and whisked away into surgery, leaving Cara to answer questions and fill out forms, only she lacked the information necessary. She realized then that, except for his name, she knew very little about the man who had watched over her for almost half of her life.
After saying, “I don’t know,” for the fifth time, she asked to use the phone and called her father.
“We’ll be there in five minutes,” Roshan said, and hung up.
They made it in four.
Leaving Brenna and Cara to take care of the paperwork, Roshan took Vince aside.
“What happened?” he asked curtly.
Vince shrugged. “I’m not sure. When I got home, I saw Cara’s car parked out front. Di Giorgio and five thugs were shooting it out. He got two of them. I got the other three.”
“Where are the bodies?”
“In the dumpster behind my garage. I’ll dispose of them when I get home.”
Roshan nodded, his admiration and respect for the younger vampire growing in spite of himself. “I owe you a debt for rescuing my daughter and saving Di Giorgio’s life.”
Vince shook his head. “You don’t owe me anything.”
“Nevertheless, if you ever need anything, you have only to ask. In the meantime, you might want to go home and change your clothes.”
Frowning, Vince glanced down, surprised to see his shirtfront was splattered with blood—his own blood. He grunted softly. He’d been shot and hadn’t even realized it. Lifting his shirt, he saw that the wound was already healing. Even as he watched, all sign of the injury disappeared. He stared at it in astonishment. He knew he healed quickly. He often got minor scrapes and cuts at work, but having a gunshot heal in minutes was nothing short of miraculous.
He looked up as Cara appeared at his side. Her eyes widened when, for the first time, she noticed the blood on his shirt.
“You’re hurt!” she exclaimed.
“No.” He removed his shirt and tossed it in a nearby trash container. “It isn’t my blood.” He didn’t like lying to her, but there was no other way to explain it. She would never believe he had been shot and healed in the same night. He could hardly believe it himself.
She stared up at him, her eyes wide, her face almost as white as the walls. “I think I’m going to…”
“Faint,” he finished for her, and caught her in his arms as she pitched forward.
“I’m going to go check on Di Giorgio,” Roshan said. “I trust you’ll look after Cara until I return?”
Vince nodded. Cradling Cara against his chest, he sat down on a puke green plastic chair. Ordinarily, he wouldn’t have cared if Di Giorgio lived or died, but the bodyguard had been wounded trying to protect Cara, and for that, Vince owed the man a life debt. As for the five thugs, Vince didn’t know who they were or what their intentions toward Cara had been. They might have intended to do nothing more than rob her or steal her car, but it didn’t matter. They had accosted her, frightened her, and for that, he had killed the surviving three men.
