Max hadn't managed to get Lou into bed with her again since that first night. She'd spent last night in her own lonely motel room, and he hadn't argued with her, though she guessed from the circles under his eyes that he'd been up most of the night. Didn't he realize he would sleep better with her safe in his arms? But no, he preferred to pace the floor, straining his ears to hear any sound of trouble. Maybe stepping outside every now and then to take a look around, make sure her door was still locked. She knew exactly what he was doing-because she was doing much the same, in an effort to watch over Stormy. Hell, maybe they should all just hunk together. Save everyone a lot of time and worry.

Still, he didn't ask. So she got out of the car after dinner and went to her own room, instead of his, all too aware that the earlier storm was long gone. The skies had cleared, except for the occasional lingering finger of cloud, and the wind had died to a gentle ocean breeze. Max had suggested they find a boat and head to the island, despite the added risk of going there by night.

Lou had changed her mind, though, by saying he had a feeling that was just what the vampire wanted them to do.

Hell.

The clock read 12:03 when she heard the sound of a door closing. She'd drifted off and could have kicked herself for it, but she hurried to her own door and opened it just a crack.

Stormy was walking across the parking lot. She wore a pale blue nightgown, filmy and light, and the breeze caught it and sent it waving behind her. She was barefoot. Where the hell was she going? Not to the cars. No, she veered to the side and headed around to the rear of the motel.

Max wasn't dressed. She wore a hockey jersey and panties. Nothing else. She snagged the extra blanket from the foot of the bed, because it was faster than going to the closet for her coat and shoes. Tugging the blanket over her shoulders, she hurried outside to follow. When she passed Lou's door, she almost stopped and called out to him. But she decided to see what the hell was going on first-and kept walking.

Behind the motel, there wasn't much. A Dumpster full of garbage. A thin ribbon of pavement that wound around from the front. And beyond that, a rolling stretch of unmown grass that ended at a patch of spindly trees.

Stormy walked across the field, heading for the trees. Max swallowed hard, giving one last glance back toward the motel, wishing she had alerted Lou. Too late now. If she went back, she would risk losing sight of Stormy. She shrugged the blanket from her shoulders, dropped it in the middle of the grass and then kept walking even as Stormy disappeared into the trees. At least there would be some sign where she had gone, in case she didn't come back, Max thought. She considered calling out to her friend but wasn't sure that would be the best thing to do. Didn't they say you should never startle a sleepwalker awake? Grudgingly, she admitted to herself that she was afraid of just who or what might wake up if she did.

"Hell." Max trudged on. She stepped on pointy twigs and bristly patches every few yards. She stumbled and hopped and fought to avoid the unseen hazards on the forest floor, though it was little use in the dark.

Stormy had no such problems. She walked smoothly, steadily, either intuitively placing her feet in the right spots or simply oblivious to the discomfort of bare feet on the forest floor, and twigs and branches in her face.

Max pushed the branches away as she went and thought she must be the noisiest thing in the woods this night, the way she was crashing through the underbrush. Stormy, on the other hand, didn't seem to be making a sound. Then again, Max thought, she might not hear Stormy over her own ruckus, anyway. Even keeping her friend in sight was becoming a challenge.

And then it wasn't a challenge, it was impossible, because Stormy was gone. Vanished.

Max strained her eyes in the darkness, but she couldn't see her. She hurried forward, racing toward the spot where she'd last sighted Stormy. The woods ended there, suddenly and without warning. Max emerged onto a steep embankment and came to a startled halt. The slope angled sharply downward, dirt, gravel and sand. Hardly any grass grew there. At the bottom there was water, a tiny cove where the ocean lapped at the shore. A small boat sat on the beach off to one side, and a still, pale form lay nearby.

"Stormy!"

Max jerked into motion, starting down the slippery slope. The surface was loose and fell away under her feet. Her legs slid downward, and she leaned back in an effort to keep her balance. In another heartbeat, her hands were grasping the ground behind her, her butt and legs skimming downhill fast, even though she dug her heels in to try to slow her descent. And then she was at the bottom, scrambling to her feet and hurrying to where Stormy lay on the ground.

Her friend's nightgown was wet, the ocean waves rolling in gently, reaching to her legs. Max fell to her knees, grasping Stormy's shoulders. "Storm? Honey? Come on, wake up" She lifted her friend's upper body in her arms and searched her still face. She'd obviously taken a fall. God, had she broken her beautiful neck?

"Stormy? Jesus, talk to me!"

"She's still alive. There's no need to panic."

Max jerked her head up at the sound of the deep male voice coming from very nearby-instantly aware that it didn't belong to Lou or to Jason. And then she saw him, standing on the shore with the waves lapping over his feet and the sea wind lifting his long, black hair from his shoulders. Clouds parted, and the moonlight bathed his face. The same face she'd seen earlier tonight, in the drawings done by his victims.

Instinct told her to back away. She didn't. In fact, she moved closer, rising to her feet to put herself between him and Stormy. "You'll leave here if you know what's good for you, " she said.

His brows rose. "Courage? Or foolishness?"

"Probably a little of both. Now, get the hell out of here before the rest of my friends arrive and stake your sorry ass." She was painfully aware she had no weapon. Nothing to use to fight him off.

"Stake me? That's actually rather funny." He stepped closer.

She bent quickly and snatched up the biggest rock within reach.

"Calm down, Maxine Stuart. You have no friends coming, and I think you know that rock in your hands can't harm me."

"I also know it's going to hurt like hell when I cave your skull in with it." She lifted the rock. "Stay back."

He lowered his eyes to Stormy. Then they widened.

Max stole a quick look downward, too, afraid to take her eyes off him for more than an instant. But Stormy's own eyes were open. And they were a deep, dark black that almost seemed to glow in the moonlight.

Her eyes fixed on the man's, the vampire's. She muttered something that sounded like "Print meu" as her strange eyes turned to focus on Max and the rock in her hand. And then she shrieked something in that gibberish language she was always speaking, even as she shot into a sitting position, twisted her body and wrapped her arms around Max's legs, toppling her to the ground. She clambered up her, clawing, pounding. All Max could do was try to cover herself with her own arms, but that did little good. Her best friend was beating the hell out of her.

"Tarfa! , S'terge-o ca-t-i tram us , sut in cur!" Stormy ranted.

The man shouted a single word. "Stai!" To Max's amazement, Stormy went still, then turned her head slowly toward him, her eyes welling with tears. "Dragostea cea veche iti sopteste la ureche." She reached a hand up to him. "Print meu." For a moment he seemed about to take it. But then she passed out, rolling off Max and onto the shore.

"Just what the hell is the meaning of this?" the vampire asked, his voice dangerously quiet, trembling, his eyes moist and focused on Stormy. "What kind of game are the two of you playing?"

"I don't know what you're talking about. She's sick. All I want to do is help her."

"Do you think I believe a word of that?" he demanded. "Where did she learn to speak those words?"

Max blinked. "You mean...you understood her? What did she say?"

He sighed and started to turn away, but Max reached up and gripped his arm. "What did she say?" she cried. . "She called you a bitch. Said to get away before she kicked your ass, to put it bluntly."

Max winced and closed her eyes tightly.

"And then she said, `Old love will not be forgotten.' His tone had softened, and his eyes were on Stormy now. "I am not so foolish that I'm not aware this is some kind of a trick, " he said.

"I don't really care what you think." Max knelt beside her best friend, leaning over her, touching her face.

"Move aside, " he commanded.

"If you think I'm letting you touch her, you can think again, pal."

"You'll never get her back up that hill by yourself." He put a cold, powerful hand on her shoulder. "And if I'd wanted to hurt you, you'd be long dead by now."

She turned to stare up at him. "What have you done with those two girls? Where are Delia and Janie?"

"They're fine. Would you like to see them?"

She was so stunned, she sucked in a breath.

"Come to me on the island. The two of you, " he said, nodding at Stormy. "Alone and only by night." He smiled slowly. "I think you've already realized I'll never allow you to reach it by day."

"I knew it..." She looked around her. "This was your doing, wasn't it? Somehow luring Stormy out here in the middle of the night, putting her under some kind of trance-"

"Come to me by night. Bring her to me. When you do, the girls are yours."

"I'll get those girls back, make no mistake about that. But my way, not yours. Never yours."

He shrugged. "Why am I bothering to negotiate with a mortal? I'll take her with me now. It's not as if you can stop me. La revedere, Maxine Stuart."

Max stood between him and Stormy. He reached for her to move aside. "You son of a-"

"Get your hands off her!"

The shout came from halfway up the steep hill, as Lou shot down it. Even as the vampire turned in surprise, Lou was hitting him like a full body rocket. The impact took both of them into the surf, where they tumbled and rolled.

Max shot after them. "Lou, don't. Jesus, look out! He's the-"

The men sprang from the water, crouched, facing each other, knee deep in the froth. Something glinted, and Max saw the knife in Lou's hand.

"You're no match for me, mortal, and I think you know it."

"Maybe not. But I guarantee I'll put a hurting on you that you won't soon forget." Lou lunged forward, swinging the blade.

Max gasped, shocked at the speed of his strike, and the brutality of it, as well. The blade sliced deep, and the vampire jerked backward, clasping his upper arm. Blood swelled, oozing between his fingers, coating his hand and dripping from it.

"Damn you!"

Lou shrugged. "Stick around and finish the fight, " he said. "I dare you. You'll bleed out in the process, but what the hell do I care?"

"You know just enough about my kind to be dangerous, " the vampire all but growled.

"I know more about your kind than I ever cared to, " Lou said. "Your move, pal."

The vamp's eyes narrowed. He nodded once. "You're a worthy adversary-for a mortal. It's going to be a shame to kill you."

"On that we agree."

"See to the one called Storm. I'll want her in good health when I return to take her from you. We'll finish this another time."

Lou tilted his head in acknowledgment. And then the vampire was gone in a blur of speed that seemed to move southward along the shore and then vanish.

Lou turned toward the shore, dragging his legs through the water as he folded the sizable knife and dropped it hack into his pocket. Max ran to him, wrapping him in her arms. "God, Lou, he could have killed you."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence." He hugged her hack, then set her slightly away from him to look at her, his hand moving her hair off her face. "Jesus, Maxie, what did that bastard do to you?"

She shook her head. "It wasn't him. It was Storm." He lifted his brows. "Storm did all that?"

All what? she wondered. She knew she hurt pretty thoroughly, over most of her body, but she had no idea what she looked like. "Most of it. Some of it I may have gotten half tumbling down that freaking hill."

He bent over Stormy, gathering her up into his arms. "I feel like I ought to be carrying you back to the motel, too, " he said, moving northward along the beach in search of an easier way back up.

Max kept pace right beside him. She saw him notice the little boat, resting on the shore. "That solves one problem, " he muttered. "Are you sure you're all right, Max?"

"I'm fine, Lou. Really." She wasn't-in fact, she was hurting more and more as the adrenaline levels in her blood returned to normal and the fight-or-flight impulse faded. She put a hand on his shoulder. "I can't believe you attacked a full-fledged vamp to defend me-for the second time now. You know as well as I do how powerful they are."

He shrugged. "I know their weaknesses, too. The way they feel pain so much more keenly than we do. The way they tend to bleed out when cut."

She nodded. "He'll have to wrap that sucker tighter than tight if he's going to last until dawn."

Lou made a face. "No doubt he'll manage. Then he'll heal with the day sleep, and I'll have to start from square one"

"Not if I have anything to say about it, you won't."

They found a path that wound up a far more gradual slope, back through the woods, and emerged beside, rather than behind, the motel. The entire way, Lou was watching her, eyeing her, worried and protective and angry.

He stopped in front of Stormy's door. Max said, "Wait, I've got a key in my room." She'd left her own door open, so she hurried inside, wincing when the change in her gait brought a fresh stab of pain in her side. Then she grabbed her keys and went back out to open Stormy's door.

Lou carried Stormy in and laid her down on the bed. "Her nightgown's pretty wet, " he said.

"I'll get her changed." Max went to Lou, where he stood beside the bed. "You don't have to wait, Lou. I can take it from here."

"Bull. You look like you pissed off a wildcat, honey. You give her the once-over, and then it's your turn."

She smiled slowly, opened her mouth to deliver the obligatory smart-ass comeback. He put a finger to her lips before she could get a word out. "Just do it, Max."

"I'm doing it already."

She went to Stormy's dresser and got out a T-shirt. Then back to the bed, to gently extract the sleeping woman from the wet nightgown. She put the T-shirt on her and lowered her carefully back to the mattress. That done, she got a warm washcloth from the bathroom, and wiped the dirt and sand from Stormy's legs and feet. As she did, she ran her hands over her friend's limbs, feeling for broken bones, hunting for bruises or cuts. She inspected Stormy's head carefully, too, but found no injuries. Finally she drew the covers over her and tucked her in.

"Do you think she's all right?" she asked.

Lou nodded. "She's breathing fine. Her pulse is strong. And if she was physically healthy enough to do all that damage to you, I have no doubt she's all right. It's you I'm concerned about."

"I'm sure it's not as bad as it must look."

"It would have to be pretty bad to be as bad as it looks, kid. Come on."

"Back to your room?"

"That's where the first aid stuff is." He held out a hand.

She took it, noting, as she did, the scratches down her own arms. "Hell, it's worse than I thought."

He nodded, and when she winced on the way to the door, he drew her close to his side, his arm around her. He made sure Stormy's door was locked behind them, then led Max to his room and took her inside.

He took her all the way to the bathroom, then had her sit on the edge of the tub while he turned on the faucets and closed off the drain.

"Am I covered in dirt and sand?"

He shook his head. "No, but you're going to be covered in bruises by morning. A hot soak will ease things a little. Hell, look at your feet." As he said it, he knelt and lifted one of them, shaking his head as he examined the sole, which felt to Maxie as if she had walked over a porcupine.

He lowered her foot again. "Strip down, take a nice soak, " he said. "Take your time." He nodded at a plaid flannel robe that hung from the towel rack. "You can put that on when you finish. 'Kay?"

She resigned herself to bathing alone as he left the bathroom. He didn't close the door all the way, though, she noted. Just enough to give her some privacy-unwanted or otherwise.

Maxie peeled off her shirt and panties, stepped into the steaming water and sank down into its heat. It felt good, mostly, though it stung in some places. She leaned back and let the water keep running, so it would rise even higher around her shoulders. When it lapped at her neck, she finally shut it off, but only because it would have run over otherwise. Then she. closed her eyes and let the hot water soak her aches and pains away.

Thoughts were chasing their tails in her head. Lou's fearless attack on that vamp. Hell, if that didn't prove he loved her, she didn't know what would. Stormy's possession, or whatever the hell was wrong with her. It seemed to be getting worse. Max had to find a way to help her. The vampire, he was on her mind, too. She'd never seen him before, didn't know his name. But she had drawings of him. Maybe if she sent some copies around-hell, none of the vampires she knew had faxes. What was that bastard doing with two young girls, anyway? And why did he want her and Stormy to come out there... alone?

It was Stormy he wanted. She'd sensed it before, and now he'd admitted it. There had been something palpable and electric between them out there tonight.

But slowly the soothing hot water dissolved her racing thoughts and replaced them with relaxation. She closed her eyes and let the chaos melt away. Stopped thinking and just felt instead. Felt the pain soothing away. Felt the water soaking the grit gently out of her numerous scrapes and scratches. Felt the worry easing from her overworked mind.

Lou waited until he was sure the water must have gone cool before he went to the slightly open door and spoke her name. She didn't answer, so he peered around the door.

She lay in the water, head back against the tub, eyes closed. One arm dangled over the side of the bathtub, smooth skin gleaming and damp, but marred with scratches and bruises that were already growing dark and purple. The ends of her hair were wet against her neck.

"Maxie?" he said, a little louder this time.

Nothing. He would have thought she was faking if he didn't know better. Not that she wouldn't pull a trick like that. She would. Wouldn't even bat a long, thick eyelash first, either. But she wasn't. Not tonight.

Sighing, he walked into the bathroom and told himself not to look at her. He took a big towel from the shelf, held it up and moved toward the tub, willing himself to keep his eyes on her face and nothing else.

It would have worked, too, if he hadn't been human, and male, and in possession of a pulse.

He looked.

She lay on her back in the water like a newborn goddess. Her knees were bent and leaning toward the back of the tub, so his view was of the wet curve of her hip and then that of her waist. Her breasts were tempting beneath the water's surface, her delicate collarbones making him want to touch, to trace. And then her neck. She had a neck to beat all necks. A neck that made a man understand why it was that vampires always went for the jugular. A hell of a lot more than blood pressure, that was for sure.

He moved closer, leaned over her kissable toes and pulled the stopper. The water began to drain, and he waited, not bothering to stop looking now that the damage was done. He figured at this point he could look his fill and do no worse. The problem was, with Maxie, he never got his fill. Not even close.

When the water was gone, and her skin grew goose bumps and her nipples went tight with the chill, he leaned over and laid the towel over her, gathered her closer to tuck it around behind her and scooped her up out of the bathtub. She was dripping wet, and the towel didn't come together very well in the back. He snagged the bathrobe on his way out and tossed it onto the bed. Using one hand, he opened it and then laid her on it.

She opened her eyes a little but didn't move to be of any help. The towel covered her while he slid her hand into the sleeve of the bathrobe. Then he did the same with the other hand, and drew the robe closed over her front. He tied the sash, then tugged the wet towel out from under.

Maxie smiled. "Leave it to you to find a way to get a wet, naked woman out of the tub and into the bed without having to look at or hardly even touch her."

He lifted his brows. "I tried my best, Max, but even I'm not that good."

She blinked at him, looking first confused, then surprised. He didn't give her time to comment or speculate. "I'll get the first aid supplies."

"I'll settle for a morphine drip and a stiff drink."

"Can you make do with aspirin and a beer?" She nodded. "Sounds like heaven."

He returned to the bathroom. By the time he came hack, she was lying under the covers and the robe was on the floor. She read his face, tugged the covers down in front. "I pilfered one of your T-shirts. The robe was damp, and I was cold."

"That's fine."

"You didn't look like it was fine when you thought I was naked under here."

He smirked and came to sit on the edge of the bed, then handed her two aspirin tablets and glass of water.

She swallowed the pills and set the glass aside. "What else you got?"

He grinned at her. God, Maxie could always make him laugh, no matter the circumstances. Holding up a tube of muscle rub, he said, "It's odor free, but works as well as the smelly kind."

"You travel with muscle rub?" She speared him with her gleaming green eyes. "Is that a prop to convince me you're over the hill?"

"A handful of old injuries. They act up every now and then."

"Yeah? What kind of injuries? You take a bullet in the line of duty?"

He slanted a look at her. "Roll over."

She did. Lou tugged the blankets down to her hips and lifted up the T-shirt. He squeezed some of the liniment onto his palm, rubbed his hands to warm it, then began massaging it into her skin. It was warm and taut, and he loved touching it. Everything in him came alive when he ran his hands over her flesh.

He felt her relaxing into his touch, heard her sigh. "God you've got great hands, " she said. "So, you gonna tell me what happened? How you got those old injuries?"

He rubbed at a knot beneath her shoulder blade, then massaged the shoulders themselves. "I was still a rookie, act up in a speed trap on a highway, and a guy went by me doing seventy-five. So I hit the lights and siren and went after him. Pulled him over. Ran the plates. Then I got out and walked up to the driver's door."

"And?"

She was looking over her shoulder at him, her eyes wide.

"Got nailed by a pickup the size of a tank. Felt like it, anyway." He rubbed the small of her back.

She rolled over onto her back so quickly he found himself with his hands on her belly. It was soft, and he liked the feel of his hands there, but he took them away all the same. "Why don't I already know about this stuff, Lou? God, I've known you for-how long now?"

He shrugged. "Years."

"Almost a decade. I thought we were friends."

"We are friends."

"Then why is it I'm just now finding out about major things in your life?"

"Maybe just now is the first time I felt compelled to tell you."

She blinked at him. He stared down at her and read her face. Why now? she wanted to know. She wanted to know if it meant anything, if it was some kind of signal that he was maybe ready to kick this thing up a notch.

Well, he wasn't ready for anything of the sort, but he didn't want to hurt her feelings by telling her not to go there.

"So where's that beer you promised me?" she asked.

He was surprised as all hell. But he got up and went to the cooler on the table across the room, got out two beers, popped the tops and handed one to her. She'd propped up a bunch of pillows and was sitting upright now.

He sat down to sip his beer, then set the can down and reached for the liniment again. He knew this was the lamest, most pathetic, sorry-ass game he'd ever played, because there wasn't a reason on God's earth why she couldn't rub this stuff on her own legs. At least with her back, the need for his assistance was plausible. Barely. But this was purely gratuitous, and he knew she knew it, too.

She would use it against him; he knew she would. But he yanked the covers back, anyway, and when he saw all the scratches, he set the liniment down and picked up the antibiotic ointment instead.

"How badly were you hurt?" she asked.

He used his forefingers to dab ointment on the gouges and cuts, scratches and scrapes. "Broke a femur and three ribs, and dislocated a shoulder."

He stole a look at her eyes. They were wide and fixed on his face. "It's okay, there was no permanent damage. I'm fine now."

"You're lucky it didn't kill you."

"Don't think I don't know it " He shrugged. "Better skip the other stuff on your legs. They're bruised, but that stuff would bum in the cuts and scrapes. Now..." He moved up on the bed, caught her chin in his hand and bent closer to look at her face. He turned her head left, then right. "There are some nasty scratches on your neck."

"Are there?"

He nodded, realizing a little too late how close he was to her face and how intently her eyes were probing his. He cleared his throat and put a little more of the ointment on his fingers, then ran them gently over the smooth skin of her neck.

He was fine until she tipped her head back and closed her eyes, her breath easing out of her lungs in a shuddering sigh.

He didn't realize his hand had gone still until those green eyes opened again and locked onto his.

Then her head lifted from the pillows and she pressed her mouth to his. Briefly, lightly, she kissed him. Then she kissed him again, and again. Taunting, teasing little pecks that only left him wanting more, until finally, unable to resist her, he slid his arms around and underneath her, one at the small of her back, one between her shoulder blades. He drew her to him, and he kissed her fully, deeply. Her arms twined around his neck. Her body arched up against him, and God, everything in him burned for her.

When he finally took a breath and lifted his head away, she whispered, "Don't you dare start giving me a list of reasons why we shouldn't, Lou. You do, and I swear I'll shoot you with your own gun."

He stared down at her, wanting her so badly his entire body strained to get closer.

"It doesn't have to be anything more than this. Just this, " she whispered. "Just us, here and now. No future. No past. No demands or expectations or repercussions, I swear."

He knew she meant it. He also knew she was dead wrong.

She straightened and trailed hot kisses across his neck, along his shoulder. And then she said, "For God's sake, Lou, make love to me. Please."

He thought of all the reasons why he shouldn't. But he was way beyond that kind of self-denial. Had been, he figured, since seeing her naked in that bath.

He was almost trembling-both with wanting her so badly for so long and with certainty that he was making the most horrendous mistake of his life-when he cupped her cheek with one hand and drew her mouth back to his again.

He felt her smiling against his mouth. And then her hands were on his chest, fingers wending their way between his body and hers to deftly open the buttons of his shirt. She pushed it open and then her hands were on him, and he was suddenly living in a state of physical bliss.