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“Too bad,” Shirl said with a grin. “I like men in masks.”
Megan had to laugh at that. It was one of things they had in common, liking masked heroes. Batman, Spiderman, the Lone Ranger. They all wore masks.
“Did he at least have a cape?” Shirl asked hopefully.
“’Fraid not,” Megan said, smothering a yawn. “I think I’m ready for bed. Do you want to go out tomorrow night?”
“I can’t. I have a date.”
“You do?” Megan exclaimed. “With who?”
“Geez, don’t look so surprised.”
“Well, it has been a long time. For both of us.”
“His name is Greg, and he’s a patrol sergeant with the LAPD. Six-foot three, brown hair, brown eyes. Divorced. No children.”
“When do I get to meet him?”
“I don’t know. We’ll see how it goes tomorrow night. So, what about this guy, Rhys? Any vibes there?”
“It doesn’t matter,” Megan replied, shaking her head. “He’s only twenty-five.”
“So you’re four years older than he is. So what?”
Megan shrugged. “I don’t believe him.”
“You think he’s older?”
“No, younger. A lot younger. But it’s more than that. He’s…” She bit down on her lower lip as she tried to find the words to describe Rhys Costain. “Different.”
“Different how? Two heads? Three arms? One eye in the middle of his forehead?”
“No, nothing like that. I don’t know how to explain it. He scares me, and I don’t know why.” She ran her fingertip around the edge of her cup. “You’re going to think I’m crazy, but…he changed his shirt after he was shot…”
“What’s so crazy about that?”
“Hush. I saw his arm when he changed his shirt and I swear—I swear!—the wound in his arm was gone. I mean, gone like it was never there.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes! Well, I could be wrong. It was dark, but…”
“You’ve had a rough night, girlfriend. Maybe your eyes were playing tricks on you.”
“Maybe.” Megan blew out a sigh. “Sometimes, when I’m with him, I get the feeling he’s hiding something. Something dark and dangerous.”
“Hey, if you’re having scary thoughts about this guy, then I’d say follow your instincts and stay away from him.”
Good advice, Megan thought as she rinsed out her cup and made her way upstairs. Good advice, indeed.
Chapter 4
Although Rhys had little to do with the affairs of mortals in general, he made it a point to keep abreast of what was happening around the world, especially in the United States. Especially now, when he was no longer just Master of the City, but Master of the West Coast Vampires.
He grunted softly as he recalled the battle that had increased his territory. It hadn’t been a battle he had sought, but he had never run from a fight. He had destroyed the other vampire without a qualm, and now his domain included Oregon, Washington, and Idaho as well as California, Arizona, New Mexico, and Montana.
He was always amazed at the violence humans were capable of. His kind were supposed to be the monsters, yet man’s cruelty to his fellow beings made vampires seem benevolent by comparison.
Someone had once said there was nothing new under the sun. It was proved nightly, on the news. This evening was no different. Gang killings. Teachers having affairs with underage students. Congressmen being arrested for nefarious dealings. The rich preying on the poor. War in the Middle East. The price of gas going up and down like a yo-yo on steroids.
Rhys was about to turn off the set when the perfectly coiffed female anchorwoman said, “This just in from our sister station in New York City. The bodies of a man and a woman were discovered near the Hudson River only moments ago. According to undisclosed sources, both victims appear to have been drained of blood.”
It was the last three words that caught his attention. They seemed to echo off the walls.
Drained of blood.
Rhys leaned forward, his gaze focused on the screen. In his gut, he knew those three words could mean only one thing. There was a vampire on the rampage somewhere in the city of New York.
Switching off the screen, Rhys opened the French doors and stepped out onto the balcony. The cops would never catch the vampire responsible for the killings, just as they would never solve the crime. It would take another vampire to bring the rogue down. Or a damn good hunter.
He grinned faintly, thinking it was too bad for the NYPD that Daisy and her family had given up hunting.
Thoughts of Daisy brought Megan to mind, not that he needed help to think of her. Megan had been uppermost in his mind since that first night. He wondered what she was doing this evening, since Shore’s was closed on Sundays and Mondays.
Curious, he went into his bedroom to change clothes. Before he’d met Megan DeLacey, his wardrobe had been sparse—a few pairs of good slacks, a dozen shirts. But now…He shook his head. His closet held enough outfits to clothe three or four men for a year.
Until Megan, he had never given much thought to what he wore. Now, he found himself wondering what she would find most appealing.
Exasperated, he pulled on a pair of black slacks and a dark gray shirt, stepped into a pair of black boots, and made his way to the underground garage and his private parking place. Being the owner of the building definitely had its compensations, he thought, as he slid behind the wheel of the Jag and backed out of the garage.
Moments later, he pulled up in front of Megan’s house.
Lifting his head, he expanded his senses, swore softly when he realized the place was empty. After rolling down the window, he sniffed the air, sorting through the myriad scents that swirled through it for the one he sought.
It didn’t take long. With a wry grin, he put the Jag in gear and followed her scent across town to the multiplex.
He parked next to her car, then hurried inside, only to come to an abrupt halt when he entered the darkened theater. He hadn’t detected the scent of anyone else in her car, but what if she had come here to meet another man? Hands clenched, he searched for her. With his preternatural vision and enhanced sense of smell, it took only moments to locate her.
On silent feet, he slid into the empty seat beside her.
Megan didn’t have to see Costain’s face to know he was there. She didn’t even wonder why he had come, or how he had known where she was. Quite the contrary. It seemed perfectly natural that he should appear, seemingly out of thin air. One minute she had been thinking of him, and the next he was there beside her, as if her thoughts had summoned him.
