Exclamations of surprise followed in his wake as he dove into his car, started the engine and tore away.
Please, let her be okay, he thought as he took the corner at the end of David’s long drive way too quickly and nearly skidded off the road. He’d teleport himself and the car closer to her to shorten the drive but couldn’t risk her neighbors seeing him appear out of nothingness.
Taking out his phone, he dialed her number. Answer. Answer. Answer. Come on, sweetheart, answer.
The call went to voice mail.
Aidan pressed the accelerator to the floor and dialed again.
Voice mail.
Speeding around an SUV that itself was exceeding the speed limit by ten miles per hour, Aidan swung back into his lane just in time to avoid a head-on collision with an oncoming truck. Several turns and near misses later, he pulled into the small parking lot in front of her shop and skidded to a stop.
Relief flooded him as he saw her through the window.
She was safe, singing under her breath as she restocked some shelves. The tips of her ears were pink. And some of the hair tucked behind them bore damp ends. She must have either been in the shower or blow-drying her hair when he’d called.
He stepped out of the car.
Dana glanced over and saw him through the window. Her lovely face lighting up, she waved.
Aidan waved back, wanting only to drag her into his arms and hold her close. But he hadn’t taken the time to remove the multitude of weapons tucked inside his coat before he’d raced over.
As soon as she turned to put a book back on a shelf, he reached into his coat to disarm himself.
Car tires screeched behind him before he could. The scent of burning rubber filled the air.
Aidan turned as a car took the closest corner too quickly.
A sleek black Fisker Karma drifted sideways, then shot forward. Passing a stop sign without slowing, it hit a bump and flew into the parking lot.
Surprised, Aidan prepared to launch himself at the vehicle to shove it aside so it wouldn’t crash headlong into Dana’s store. But the tires locked suddenly as the driver hit the brakes.
Gravel struck Aidan like buckshot. Dust rose in a cloud that burned his eyes.
Before it could settle, the driver threw open the car door and leapt out.
Ah, hell. Roland Warbrook. This couldn’t be good.
Aidan glanced at the shop and found Dana staring out at them with wide eyes, her face full of alarm. Stay inside, he counseled her telepathically, speaking directly into her mind.
If anything, her eyes grew wider.
It’s okay, he told her. I’m okay. Just stay inside.
He’d tell her to look away, too, but thought that would just alarm her more.
“Did you think I wouldn’t find you?” Roland roared.
Eyebrows flying up, Aidan watched the nearly-millennium-old immortal stalk toward him. “What?”
“Did you think I wouldn’t make you pay?”
Aidan backed away from the shop, luring Roland after him so Roland’s back would be to Dana.
The British immortal’s eyes glowed bright amber with fury. The tendons in his neck stood out as Roland shouted at him and drew two short swords.
“Pay for what?” Aidan asked. He didn’t know this particular immortal well. So he didn’t know how he could have possibly wronged him.
“For Veronica!” Roland roared.
Shock halted Aidan’s feet. “What?” It was the last thing he managed to say before Roland struck.
Aidan ducked the first swing of Roland’s blade and drew his own swords.
Roland had been born in medieval England and had been an exceptional swordfighter long before a vampire had transformed him. So Aidan knew Roland would be a formidable opponent and wondered how the hell he was going to hold him off long enough to find out why he was so furious.
“Veronica,” Roland roared, keeping Aidan on the defensive with swift, steady, powerful swings of his swords.
“Veronica Becker?”
“Yes!”
Aidan glanced at Dana’s shop and saw her dive for the phone on the counter. A peek into her thoughts found her intent on calling 911. Don’t, he told her.
She stopped short and looked at him through the glass.
I’m okay, he told her. Don’t call the police.
The distraction cost him.
Aidan hissed in a breath as one of Roland’s swords sliced through his coat and cut a deep furrow across his chest.
“Aidan!” Though Dana was inside with the door and windows shut, both immortals heard her clearly.
Roland spun around and glared.
Aidan swore. No way would she miss the other immortal’s glowing eyes now.
It was a struggle to keep his own from glowing as Aidan began to simmer with anger.
Damn Roland for forcing his hand like this. Now he would have to either come up with some bullshit lie to explain Roland’s eyes or tell Dana everything.
Aidan leapt forward, intending to lock Roland in a half nelson until the bastard would explain why he was trying to gut him.
Roland swiveled and struck before he could, his blade carving a gash in Aidan’s arm.
Fury crashed through him. Aidan abandoned the plan to simply hold Roland off long enough to get an explanation and instead took the offensive, pounding the other immortal’s swords with strike after strike after strike, driving him backward. “What the hell is this about?” he demanded, all patience gone. “What is Veronica to you?” He was surprised the reclusive immortal even knew her.
The heels of Roland’s boots pushed up dirt and gravel as he dug in and met Aidan blow for blow. “She’s my descendant!”
Hell. No wonder he was so pissed. “Roland—”
“You killed her, you bloody bastard!” he bellowed. “You killed her!”
And suddenly Dana’s vision made sense. “If Chris told you that, he lied,” Aidan growled, mentally cursing the human.
“Bullshit!”
“I’m telling you he lied!” Damn it, he’d lost sight of Dana.
Roland scored another hit.
Growling in frustration, Aidan scored four more.
A Tesla Roadster suddenly tore around the corner with a screech of tires, then flew into the parking lot and skidded to a halt inches from the Fisker Karma.
Sarah jumped out of the car.
At the same moment, the door to the shop flew open and Dana barreled out, carrying something in one hand.
“Roland, stop!” Sarah called.
“Stay back!” he commanded.
While Sarah tried to coax her irate husband back to sanity, Aidan glanced at Dana.
Striding forward with a look of grim determination, Dana raised a weapon of some sort and aimed it at Roland.
Was that a gun? “Dana, no!” he called. Gunshot wounds would just piss Roland off more.
Too late.
She squeezed the trigger.
Two small objects shot forth and embedded themselves in Roland’s back.
The crackle of electricity filled the air.
Roland stiffened and jerked as Dana held the trigger down and Tasered the hell out of him. But he didn’t go down. Gritting his teeth, he dropped one sword, reached behind him and yanked the small metal probes out of his back. More curses spewed forth as he flung them to the ground.
Sarah gaped. “Roland?” she called with concern and took a hesitant step toward him. “Honey? Are you okay?”
Roland swung to face Dana. “That hurt, damn it!”