hoped Lui was outside. He would destroy the bastard and…But what if he made a fatal error and lost? Lui would simply walk into the house and slaughter Heather. “Yes, get your gun. Tell Emma, and wait inside. If he comes in, aim for his chest.”
“If he comes in, then you would be…” She squeezed his arm. “Be careful.”
The concern in her eyes was genuine. Mon Dieu, she did care for him.
He touched her cheek. “Go.”
Her eyes glazed over with a dreamy look, then she blinked. “Right.” She ran to the stairs. The carpet muffled the sounds of her sandals as she dashed up the steps.
“What’s up?” Fidelia sauntered from the kitchen, holding a half-empty beer bottle. She glanced at Heather’s disappearing form. “You chased her off again?”
Jean-Luc lifted a finger to his lips, then pointed outside.
Fidelia’s brown eyes widened. “I left my German muchacho in the kitchen. I’ll be right back.”
“I don’t want you outside. It could be dangerous.” Jean-Luc groaned when Fidelia scurried into the kitchen. He’d better act fast before the women in the house charged to the rescue. He smiled to himself. No wonder he liked them so much.
Silently he unlocked the door, then yanked it open.
Chapter 8
Jean-Luc leaped onto the front porch, aiming his foil at the trespasser.
A blond woman yelped and stumbled back. Her stiletto heel caught between two wooden planks, and she crashed onto the porch. “Shit!”
She looked familiar. “Who are you?” he demanded. She was mortal, but that didn’t mean she was safe. Lui enjoyed using vampire mind control to coerce mortals into performing his assassinations.
“Damn.” The woman rubbed her bony ankle. “I’d better be able to walk a runway.” She glared at him. “You crazy imbecile! You scared me to death with that sword!”
He recognized her now. Sasha Saladine, the model Alberto had hired. Obviously she had no idea who he was.
Still sprawled on the porch, she pulled off her shoes and examined the rhinestone-studded heels. “I swear, if my shoes are damaged, I’m suing your ass. These were four hundred bucks, you know. I only buy the best.”
Already he missed Heather. When she challenged him, he liked it. She was witty and fun. This woman was simply annoying. While she continued to berate him with her shrill voice, he scanned the yard for any sign of movement.
“You gonna stand there all night like an idiot or help me up?” She looked around the porch. “This is Heather’s house, isn’t it? This is where she lived in high school.”
She glanced over her shoulder at his car. “Shit. She told me she didn’t have a boyfriend.” She gave him a wary look. “What are you doing with a freakin’ sword?”
“You prefer a gun?” Fidelia shoved past Jean-Luc, holding a beer in one hand and her Glock in the other.
“Oh my God!” Sasha jumped to her feet and raised her hands. “Don’t shoot. I thought this was Heather’s house.”
“Fidelia, be careful!” Heather rushed out onto the porch, her shotgun in her hands.
Sasha gasped. “And I thought New York was dangerous.”
Jean-Luc groaned inwardly. “Heather, didn’t I tell you to stay inside?”
Heather ignored him and turned to the blond model. “Sasha? What are you doing here?”
“I’m about to get shot or skewered, I don’t know which.”
“Well, make up your mind. I don’t have all night.” Fidelia set her beer on the porch and removed a set of keys from her skirt pocket. She fumbled with the key, trying to release the trigger lock on her pistol.
“Don’t do that,” Heather warned her. “You’ve had too much to drink.”
Fidelia snorted. “I’m not drunk. I’m in complete control.” She tore off the trigger lock.
Bang! The gun fired, ripping into a nearby oak tree.
The women screamed. Jean-Luc winced.
A squirrel plummeted from the tree and landed in the yard with a thud.
Fidelia shrugged. “I meant to do that. Damned rodent’s been gnawing on
“If he comes in, then you would be…” She squeezed his arm. “Be careful.”
The concern in her eyes was genuine. Mon Dieu, she did care for him.
He touched her cheek. “Go.”
Her eyes glazed over with a dreamy look, then she blinked. “Right.” She ran to the stairs. The carpet muffled the sounds of her sandals as she dashed up the steps.
“What’s up?” Fidelia sauntered from the kitchen, holding a half-empty beer bottle. She glanced at Heather’s disappearing form. “You chased her off again?”
Jean-Luc lifted a finger to his lips, then pointed outside.
Fidelia’s brown eyes widened. “I left my German muchacho in the kitchen. I’ll be right back.”
“I don’t want you outside. It could be dangerous.” Jean-Luc groaned when Fidelia scurried into the kitchen. He’d better act fast before the women in the house charged to the rescue. He smiled to himself. No wonder he liked them so much.
Silently he unlocked the door, then yanked it open.
Chapter 8
Jean-Luc leaped onto the front porch, aiming his foil at the trespasser.
A blond woman yelped and stumbled back. Her stiletto heel caught between two wooden planks, and she crashed onto the porch. “Shit!”
She looked familiar. “Who are you?” he demanded. She was mortal, but that didn’t mean she was safe. Lui enjoyed using vampire mind control to coerce mortals into performing his assassinations.
“Damn.” The woman rubbed her bony ankle. “I’d better be able to walk a runway.” She glared at him. “You crazy imbecile! You scared me to death with that sword!”
He recognized her now. Sasha Saladine, the model Alberto had hired. Obviously she had no idea who he was.
Still sprawled on the porch, she pulled off her shoes and examined the rhinestone-studded heels. “I swear, if my shoes are damaged, I’m suing your ass. These were four hundred bucks, you know. I only buy the best.”
Already he missed Heather. When she challenged him, he liked it. She was witty and fun. This woman was simply annoying. While she continued to berate him with her shrill voice, he scanned the yard for any sign of movement.
“You gonna stand there all night like an idiot or help me up?” She looked around the porch. “This is Heather’s house, isn’t it? This is where she lived in high school.”
She glanced over her shoulder at his car. “Shit. She told me she didn’t have a boyfriend.” She gave him a wary look. “What are you doing with a freakin’ sword?”
“You prefer a gun?” Fidelia shoved past Jean-Luc, holding a beer in one hand and her Glock in the other.
“Oh my God!” Sasha jumped to her feet and raised her hands. “Don’t shoot. I thought this was Heather’s house.”
“Fidelia, be careful!” Heather rushed out onto the porch, her shotgun in her hands.
Sasha gasped. “And I thought New York was dangerous.”
Jean-Luc groaned inwardly. “Heather, didn’t I tell you to stay inside?”
Heather ignored him and turned to the blond model. “Sasha? What are you doing here?”
“I’m about to get shot or skewered, I don’t know which.”
“Well, make up your mind. I don’t have all night.” Fidelia set her beer on the porch and removed a set of keys from her skirt pocket. She fumbled with the key, trying to release the trigger lock on her pistol.
“Don’t do that,” Heather warned her. “You’ve had too much to drink.”
Fidelia snorted. “I’m not drunk. I’m in complete control.” She tore off the trigger lock.
Bang! The gun fired, ripping into a nearby oak tree.
The women screamed. Jean-Luc winced.
A squirrel plummeted from the tree and landed in the yard with a thud.
Fidelia shrugged. “I meant to do that. Damned rodent’s been gnawing on
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