He scowled. “I don’t know or trust any of those men.”

She pursed her lips. “Well, Chris should arrive at any minute and is going to stay inside and guard me himself until you return. You trust Chris, don’t you?”

“Not entirely.” He examined her black-clad form judiciously. She needed more pockets.

When he reached out to adjust her shoulder holster a third time, she captured his hands in her own and held them still.

“Roland, look at me,” she commanded quietly.

He met her hazel gaze.

“What is it?” she asked, studying him carefully. “You aren’t usually this antagonistic or abrupt. At least, not with me. So … talk to me. Is it Bastien? Are you worried something might go wrong tonight?”

“No, it isn’t that.” He gripped her hands tightly, memorizing every cherished feature. “It’s just … different this time. And I’m not handling it very well. I’m sorry.”

Her expression lightened a bit. “That’s okay. How is it different?”

He forced a smile, though he knew it was a lame attempt. “I’ve never had anything to lose before. I think it’s making me nervous.”

Her mouth formed a silent O. Then she threw her arms around him and held him tight.

“Careful,” he enjoined, gingerly hugging her back. He had a lot of blades with razor-sharp edges lashed to him.

She shook her head and whispered in a choked voice, “I love you.”

He rested his cheek on her hair, inhaling her alluring scent. “I love you, too.”

“Nothing is going to happen to me.”

But so much already had. “I can’t help worrying. He always seems to find us.”

“Not this time. You’re striking during daylight hours. He’ll be in Seth’s custody and you’ll be back here by sunset.”

He nodded, though he lacked her confidence. Bastien was a wily adversary who had proven to be tremendously unpredictable.

“You can’t let anything happen to you either, Roland. Come back to me safely.”

“I will.” Leaning back, he lowered his lips to hers for a gentle kiss. “If Bastien’s human minions show up—hell, at any sign of trouble—head for the tunnels.”

Chris had finally disclosed the locations of the secret escape routes he had mentioned over the phone. Inside the ar-moire every subterranean bedroom possessed was a false back that concealed the entrance of a tunnel that led deep into the surrounding forest. Each tunnel had its own hidden exit that allowed those who followed it to surface in complete shade (even in winter) a safe enough distance from the house that they would be neither seen nor heard by anyone besieging it.

After examining them all, Roland had decided he would add the same to his next home whenever he built or bought it. Had he had such in his last home, he, Marcus, and Sarah could have escaped the fire without venturing into the sun and Sarah would have never been exposed to the minions’ gunfire. He had grown too complacent in recent years.

“Thank you for making sure they’re free of creepy crawlies,” Sarah said, drawing a smile from him.

“Anything for you.” He knew her fear of bugs embarrassed her, but he sure as hell didn’t think less of her because of it. She was willing to go up against insane vampires and men with guns. Who gave a rat’s ass about a little insect phobia?

At that moment, the doorbell pealed. A courtesy, since all the immortals in the area had keys and knew the alarm codes. A second later they heard the front door open.

Sarah sighed. “That must be Chris.”

He nodded. “Marcus, Lisette, and Étienne are with him. Time to go.”

Linking his fingers through hers, Roland drew her with him down the hallway, up the stairs, and into the living room. Once there, they both stopped and stared.

Chris was decked out in black fatigues and a Kevlar vest, an automatic weapon under his right arm, a .45 semiautomatic holstered on his right thigh. Fastened to his left thigh was a wicked-looking tactical knife.

Marcus was dressed and armed much as Roland was.

Lisette and Étienne, however, were both clad in what appeared to be dull black rubber pants and long-sleeved shirts that fit them like a second skin. The pants were tucked into heavy boots. The neckline of the shirts rose all the way to their chins. Their hands, concealed by gloves made of the same peculiar material, clutched matching masks and wraparound sunglasses.

Two red shoto swords were strapped to Lisette’s back and a pair of Glock 18s equipped with extended thirty-one-round magazines were strapped to the outside of each slender thigh. Étienne had armed himself with a couple of sheathed short swords and numerous throwing knives that hung in a belt across his chest like Roland’s.

When Roland and Sarah continued to stare at their odd suits, Étienne spread his arms wide and raised his eyebrows. “They offer us complete protection from the sun.”

Interesting. Roland hadn’t heard anything about this, even on the Internet message boards. “I wondered how you two would manage to survive the daylight.” The younger the immortals, the more sensitive they were to sunlight. And these two were only a couple hundred years old. “Are they comfortable?”

“Not really,” Lisette answered. Her long black tresses were slicked back into a neat braid that disappeared into the neckline of her shirt.

Étienne grimaced. “They chafe like a mother when you sweat.”

Marcus grinned. “Which is why I’m not wearing them.”

Chris motioned to Roland’s clothes. “Don’t worry. You’re protected, too. All the clothing David provides offers 98 percent protection against UVA and UVB rays. As old as you are, that should be enough. I did bring a couple of extra masks, sunglasses, and gloves, though, in case you were interested.”

Roland and Marcus each took a mask, a pair of gloves, and sunglasses. Slipping his hand inside the rubbery ski mask, Roland held it up for Sarah to see.

She reached out and felt it, wrinkling her nose at the automobile-tire texture, then shrugged. “As long as it protects your pretty face, I’m all for it.”

Grinning, he turned back to the others.

They were all staring at him with wide eyes.

He scowled. “What?”

They blinked.

“Nothing,” Chris mumbled. Pulling an iPhone from one of his pockets, he handed it to Marcus. “Since you’re a little more computer and electronics savvy than the others, you get to hang on to this. One of my contacts is going to download another real-time keyhole satellite surveillance photo at precisely five o’clock. It will confirm how many humans and vamps are inside and, since we don’t know the layout of that massive basement, will hopefully serve as a guide and help you navigate it and find them all. You’ll only get the one photo because he isn’t supposed to be doing this shit and is risking his ass to help us.”

Seth abruptly appeared behind Chris.

Sarah jumped and emitted a startled squeak, then sighed as she met Roland’s amused gaze. “I don’t think I’m going to get used to that anytime soon.”

He smiled. “It’s been nine centuries and I’m still not used to it.”

Chris stepped aside so Seth could join the circle. “I’ve already briefed them.”

“Excellent. Let’s book.”

Roland turned to Sarah as the others filed toward the door.

Her sweet face was pinched with worry as she rose onto her toes and wrapped her arms around him. “Be careful.”

He kissed her. “I will.” Then he kissed her again. “Remember, at the first sign of trouble—”

“Head for the tunnels. I will.”

He kissed her one more time, deeply, drinking in her taste and her scent, then reluctantly set her away from him.

Donning the rubbery mask, gloves, and sunglasses, he followed the others through the front door and out into the late afternoon sunlight.

Sarah’s stomach churned as she nervously paced the perimeters of the living room. Low music and voices changed midsentence as Chris channel-surfed from his position on one of the cushy sofas. Every once in a while, she would feel his gaze stray to her, observe her for several seconds, then return to the television.

All the curtains had been pulled back. Golden sunlight poured in through the western windows and spilled across the plush cream-colored carpet. Sparkling dust motes spun and danced as she passed through them.

Curled in an overstuffed chair in one corner, Nietzsche raised his head and peered sleepily at her as she neared him. Sarah paused to rub his fuzzy head and stroke his chin before continuing on.

It was impossible to remain still when worry was twisting her insides into knots.

“How long have they been gone?” she asked for the second time.

Chris checked his watch. “Seven and a half minutes.”

She groaned. “That’s all?” She would’ve sworn at least half an hour had passed. “How much longer until they get there, do you think?”

“Depending on traffic, about fifteen minutes.”

“Why didn’t Seth just pop them over there?”

“You mean teleport them?”

She nodded.

“He can only teleport to places he’s already been. Unless you’re talking to him on the phone. Then he can find you by following the cell signal or zoning in on your brain waves. I can never decide which and keep forgetting to ask.”

Sarah almost smiled. “How can you be so … relaxed about all of this?” He didn’t look at all concerned.

“One: I’ve been at this long enough to have seen them in action and know that they’re extremely good at what they do. And two: I’m not in love with any of them.”

Glancing through one of the northern windows as she passed, she saw the back of one of Chris’s heavily armed men. “Is it that obvious?”

“As obvious as his love for you is.”

Another window. Another guard.

“I’m going to have my blood tested to see if I can be transformed.” She wasn’t sure why she told him. Perhaps to test his reaction since, according to Roland, no gifted one had ever willingly been transformed.