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Red Shirt and the other two vampires exchanged glances.
Rane took a step forward. “Come on,” he said, motioning them closer. “Let’s do it.”
“I’m right behind you, brother,” Rafe said, baring his fangs. “It’s been a long time since we fought side by side.”
“Hey, now, hold on a minute,” the fair-haired vampire said. “We’ve got no quarrel with any of you. As for him . . .” He gestured at Logan, and then shrugged. “Rogen’s past caring if your friend lives or dies. And I sure as hell don’t care.”
Vince looked at the other two vampires. “You boys feel the same way?”
“Like Murray said, we’ve got no quarrel with you,” Red Shirt muttered, and one by one, the three vanished from sight.
Logan blew out a shaky breath. “How’d you guys know I was in trouble?”
“Mara called us,” Vince said.
“On the phone,” Rane added. “You look like hell.”
“That’s about how I feel.” Logan pressed a hand to his injured side. Blood leaked between his fingers. “I can’t believe she didn’t think I could take Rogen.”
Rafe shrugged as he grabbed hold of Logan’s forearm and pulled him to his feet. “She said she had a premonition that you were in danger. I would say she was right.”
“Can you make it back to the hotel on your own?” Vince asked. “Or do you need some help?”
“I can get there under my own power,” Logan said gruffly. He ran a tentative hand over his face, wondering if his nose was broken. “I guess I owe you guys a favor, big time.”
“Just take care of Mara,” Rane said. “That’s payback enough. How’s she getting along, anyway?”
“She’s doing all right, I guess. I think she’s starting to like being mortal. She’s even learning to cook.”
Rafe muttered an oath. “Cook? Mara is cooking?” He shook his head ruefully. “Next thing you know, the rivers will be turning to blood.”
Grinning, Rane slapped his brother on the shoulder. “Hey, that wouldn’t be such a bad thing, now, would it?”
Mara was pacing the floor when a sudden coldness whispered past her. Whirling around, she came face-to-face with a woman who looked vaguely familiar.
“Who are you?” Mara asked. “How did you get in here?” The woman smiled, displaying even white teeth. And fangs.
Mara stifled the urge to make a run for the door. The worst thing you could do when faced with a predator was show fear. She remembered all too well the thrill of the chase. “Who are you?” she asked again.
“Sasha. I’m a friend of Ed’s.”
“I see.” Mara knew now why the woman looked so familiar. She was the redhead who had been sitting at Rogen’s blackjack table earlier.
“Ed told me you’d lost your powers. I didn’t believe him.” Sasha lifted her head and inhaled sharply. “But it’s true, isn’t it?”
Mara didn’t say anything, merely stood there, her mind racing as she glanced surreptitiously around the room. If the vampire attacked, she had no way to defend herself. It suddenly occurred to her that if she got out of this alive, she needed to stock up on holy water and a couple of sharp wooden stakes.
The vampire laughed softly. “Ed said the three of us are going to party after he destroys your boyfriend.”
Mara lifted her chin and squared her shoulders. “We’ll have a party, all right,” she said with more bravado than she felt, “only you’ll be the main course.”
The redhead snorted derisively. “I can’t wait to tell my friends that we brought you down. Of course, since you’ve lost your powers, it won’t be much of a coup. But then . . .” She fell silent, her eyes narrowing as she gazed toward the door.
“Then what?” Mara asked, stalling for time.
“Then we’d . . .” Sasha stilled, her words abruptly cut off as Logan materialized behind her, one hand locked around her throat.
“You wanted a party,” Logan said, his voice gruff. “Are you ready to play?”
The redhead struggled in his grasp, her nails digging into Logan’s arm, her breath coming in ragged gasps as he tightened his hold.
Mara took a step forward. “Logan . . .”
He glanced at Mara over Sasha’s head. “Did she hurt you?” he asked, his voice silky smooth with menace.
Mara shook her head. “No.” But she could see that Logan was hurt. His face was bruised and bloody, his clothing bloodstained and shredded. In the aftermath of the fight with Rogen, his eyes still burned red.
“Rogen’s dead.” Logan hissed the words in the redhead’s ear. “You can join him, or you can get the hell out of town now, tonight. What’ll it be?” He loosened his hold on her throat so she could speak.
Sasha took a deep breath, then cried, “Damn you! Let me go!” She clawed at his face, her nails raking down his left cheek, laying it open to the bone.
“Dammit!” Logan roared, and threw her across the room as if she weighed no more than a child.
Sasha landed against the wall, her head snapping back hard enough to crack the plaster, but it didn’t slow her down. Fangs bared, she sprang toward Logan with murder in her eyes.
In spite of his injuries, he was quicker, stronger. Catching her in midair, he hurled her out the window. There was the sound of breaking glass followed by a horrible, blood-curdling cry, and then silence.
Mara stayed where she was, her arms crossed over her stomach, her gaze on Logan as he walked across the room and glanced out the window.
“What happened?” she asked, her voice little more than a whisper as that last, agonized cry replayed itself in her mind.
“There’s a little white picket fence in the side yard.” He didn’t have to say any more. A picket fence made a very fine wooden stake. She tried not to imagine Sasha’s body impaled on the wooden spikes, but the harder she tried to ignore it, the clearer the image became.
Logan turned away from the window. “Who the hell was she?”
“A friend of Rogen’s.”
He snorted softly. “More than a friend, I’d say.” He lifted a hand to his cheek. “Damn, that hurts.”
Nodding, Mara went into the bathroom, turned on the taps in the tub, and dampened a washcloth. Returning to the other room, she pressed the cloth to Logan’s cheek. “Hold that,” she instructed, even though it wasn’t really necessary. The nasty gashes were already healing. “I’m sorry you had to kill Rogen.”
