Runaway Vampire (Argeneau, #23)

“Let me?” she growled. “Mister, this is my phone. And I’m an adult. Nobody gets to tell me what I can or can’t do anymore.”

“Sadly, I have to tell you that is not true and inform you that should you repeat anything Dante has revealed to you to anyone, anyone at all, the ramifications for you would be rather unpleasant.”

Mary stilled and pulled the phone back to peer at it again. Was that a threat? Putting the phone back to her face, she snapped, “Did you just threaten me?”

“I do not threaten,” he assured her. “I am merely making you aware of your precarious position. The knowledge you have is dangerous and I will do whatever is necessary to ensure it spreads no further.”

His voice was so cold and matter of fact it was hard not to believe every word he said, and Mary began to worry what that “whatever is necessary” might extend to. Arrest? Her disappearing? Death?

“Judging from the change in your breathing, I gather you understand me. Good. Have Dante call when he returns from whatever task he is performing.”

It took Mary a moment to realize that the silence that followed this time was because he’d ended the call without bothering to say good-bye or otherwise indicate he was done with the conversation. Lowering the phone, she stared at it briefly, noting that her hand was shaking, and then tossed it onto the table as if it were a snake she’d suddenly found in her hand.

Mary watched it slide across the table’s smooth surface, but did nothing to stop it when it slid off the opposite edge onto the bench seat across from her. In fact, she felt a little better once it was out of sight.

Shifting her gaze to her sandwich, she stared at it briefly, then stood and carried the plate over to dump the uneaten half of her supper into the garbage under the sink. Mary then set the plate in the sink and turned to survey the RV. Her gaze slid around, but then settled on the couch. It was a long couch, presently with an arm across the first of the three sections of the couch. Mary moved to it, grabbed the arm and pulled it toward her. A lower section of couch immediately slid out to turn the couch into an L shape. Mary then shifted in front of this new section and caught the canvas handle sticking out of the top. She tugged it up and back, lifting the seat out of the base and up into position. She then slid the front of the remaining two panels out and set the pillows in place, turning it into a bed that was actually a little bigger than the one in the bedroom.

Mary wasn’t sure it would be long enough for Dante to sleep in without curling up a bit, but it was the best she could do for him, and it was bigger than the actual bed she slept in, so she turned and went into the bedroom to fetch sheets, pillows and a blanket. They were stored in the base of the built-in bed. Mary bent, caught the wooden top of the bed base and lifted it. It rose like the lid of a chest, mattress and all. A handy feature she’d always appreciated.

She quickly collected what she needed, then set them on the side of the couch-bed before turning back to push the mattress back down into place, closing the chest-like storage space. Aware that Dante should return soon, Mary was quick about making up the bed. She’d just finished putting the last pillow in place when the RV door opened.

Bailey was the first to enter, bounding in, practically vibrating with excitement. The dog immediately leapt up on the couch-bed to cross to her and lick her face.

“Yes, yes, I’m happy to see you too,” Mary murmured, catching the dog’s head between her hands and massaging her behind the ears as she pressed a kiss between her eyes. “Now,” she said, releasing her, “get off Dante’s bed. He doesn’t want to be sleeping in dog fur.”

Bailey gave Mary’s arm a swipe with her tongue, then bounded to the floor and jumped immediately up onto the bed in the bedroom where she curled into a ball and lay down, apparently all ready to go to sleep.

Mary raised her eyebrows. “What? You don’t want supper?”

“I fed her before we went for a walk,” Dante said quietly.

Mary turned back to the room to peer at Dante and noted that while the RV usually seemed large with the slide-outs open, his presence seemed to fill all that extra space now and make it smaller. Honestly, he was a mountain of a man, a big pink and white mountain. It wasn’t just that he was six feet eight, but he was as wide as a football player with padding on. Realizing she was staring, Mary dropped her gaze, and found herself looking at her phone on the dinette booth seat. Eyes widening, she blurted, “You’re supposed to call Lucian.”

“He called?” Dante asked with obvious relief, turning toward the driver’s seat behind him, no doubt looking for the phone he’d placed back in its holder.

“It’s on the dinette seat,” she told him, and then admitted, “And no, he didn’t call. I called him.”

Dante had turned to grab the phone off the seat beside him. Straightening with it in hand, he raised his eyebrows. “You called him?”

Mary nodded apologetically.