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Stop.
He closed his eyes, forcing himself to heed his own order. Sara was not his problem at the moment. Escape was. And it was time he got down to business.
With renewed purpose, he rolled to the closest bank of monitors, the ones that showed various angles of the interior of the Security Mart, a home and business security retail establishment that filled the space above him. A business owned by a holding company that was owned by a corporation that—beneath layers and layers of business filings and legal documents, was owned by Luke himself.
He’d realized long ago the value of owning both real estate and retail establishments through corporations that he ultimately controlled. Stock as well. It made the use of accumulated wealth after a span of time longer than the average mortal life that much easier.
As far as Luke was concerned, any creature alive for more than a century who didn’t have an overflowing portfolio was either doing something wrong or was a fool. Probably both.
He used the joystick to move the camera, once more carefully inspecting the exterior view as the side street off Hollywood Boulevard began to glow in the early morning light. Mentally, he went through his checklist. He’d been busy in the last hours before dawn, and the property was ready.
He put on the headset. There was one last thing to do.
“Tell me she’s safe,” he demanded, the moment his oldest friend, Sergius, answered the video call.
“Please,” Serge said, his blond hair standing on end, as if he’d run his fingers through it. “It’s me.”
“And that’s why I ask,” Luke said, equal parts joking and serious.
“She is safe. The journey was fast, though exhausting. Traveling incorporeal for two—that was a hell of a thing.”
Luke nodded. Mist, the incorporeal state available to vampires with more than a few centuries behind them, allowed for the swiftest of travel. Tasha, however, didn’t have the ability, despite her age. She’d piggybacked on his power more than once, and Luke knew how draining the travel could be.
“Where is she now?”
“Settled in the spare bedroom. Where are you?”
“Better you don’t know.”
Serge nodded. “But you will be here tomorrow? I will do whatever you ask as my brother and kyne, but I cannot take on a ward.” His voice turned serious. “Lucius, you know that.”
“I do. And I owe you a debt for what you have already done for me and for Tasha.”
“You don’t. Never.”
Luke nodded. Between the two of them, there were no debts, only the tight bond of friendship.
“So tomorrow?”
“That depends on Ryan Doyle and his pretty boy of a partner.”
“Doyle’s sharp,” Serge said. “You need to be ready.”
“I am.”
“And you’re sure? You could leave now, be here in two hours.”
“I cannot.”
“Why the hell not? You’re going under anyway.”
“Because nothing says guilt more loudly than running. And I want them to be certain it was me who took that son-of-a-bitch out.”
“Luke…”
“Trust me. I’ll find someplace safe, and I’ll send for her.”
Serge shook his head. “Don’t underestimate him, Luke. We both know Doyle. He’ll put everything he has into catching you. One slip, and—”
