"Sounds good to me."

Unable to help herself, she kept looking over her shoulder on the drive home.

"Relax," Duncan said. "No one's going to hurt you while I'm around."

She nodded, but all the while a little voice in her head wondered who was going to protect her when he wasn't around. The thought had barely formed when Battista's image rose in her mind.

They reached her house a few minutes later. She unlocked the door and turned on the lights. Maybe vampires couldn't cross a threshold uninvited, but she was still glad that she didn't have to go into the house alone.

She gestured at the sofa. "Make yourself at home. Would you like a cup of coffee with your cake?"

"I'd rather have milk, if you've got some."

"Sure."

Going into the kitchen, she pulled a couple of dessert plates and two glasses from the cupboard. She cut a generous slice of cake for Tom, a smaller one for herself, filled two glasses with milk, and put everything on array.

She had just opened the silverware drawer to get a couple of forks when the hair prickled along the back of her neck. Her heart pounded heavily in her chest as she tried to resist the urge to look out the window in the top half of the back door. Knowing what she would see and yet unable to resist, she slowly turned her head.

He was there, staring back at her, his yellow eyes glowing like a cat's in the dark. His lips moved and even though she couldn't hear the words, she knew he was calling to her. Her feet felt like lead as she took a step toward the back door, and then another.

He smiled, displaying even white teeth.

The sight jerked her out of whatever spell he had cast upon her. With a cry, she whirled around and ran into the living room.

Duncan sprang to his feet as she burst into the room. "What is it?"

She pointed a shaky finger over her shoulder. "There! He's out there!"

Tom didn't have to ask who she was talking about. "Stay here," he said curtly. "Lock the door behind me."

"Don't go!"

His gaze met hers. "It's what I do," he said, and then he was gone.

Vicki locked the door behind him, then ran through the house, making sure all the doors and windows were locked, the curtains drawn.

What was Tom doing out there? Hadn't he told her not an hour ago that he didn't hunt vampires at night?

Turning on the back porch light, she looked out the window, eyes and ears straining to see or hear something that would tell her what was going on. Was the vampire still out there? At first, she heard nothing, then the sound of running footsteps, a crash, a curse, and then silence.

She pressed her hand to her heart. Oh, Lord, had the vampire killed Tom?

She jumped when she heard a knock at the front door. "Who… Who is it?"

"Open the door, my sweet one."

"Antonio?" Switching on the porch light, she peered through the narrow window beside the door, murmured, "Oh, my," when she saw him standing there holding Tom in his arms.

"Come in!" She quickly unlocked the door and just as quickly locked it behind him.

"What happened?"

"This idiot went after Falco."

Vicki stared up at Battista. "You know Falco? Are you a hunter, too?"

"A hunter?"

"You know, a vampire hunter. That's what Tom is." Only after she'd said the words aloud did she realize how foolish they sounded. No doubt Battista would think her mad.

She waited for him to laugh at her, to tell her how foolish she was to believe in such things.

But he didn't laugh. "No," he said. "I am not a hunter."

"You don't think I'm crazy? For believing in vampires?"

"No."

"So… You believe in them, too?"

He nodded, his expression grim.

Vicki stared at him, speechless.

Battista looked down at Duncan. "Where shall I put him?"

"What? Oh, on the sofa, I guess."

With a nod, he relieved himself of his burden.

"Is he badly hurt?"

Antonio shrugged. "Hurt? He is lucky to be alive."

Vicki studied Battista for a moment. He was dressed impeccably in black, as usual. His hair was windblown, his deep blue eyes almost luminous. "What are you doing here, anyway?"

His gaze caught and held hers. Heat flowed between them like a thread of invisible fire.

She pressed a hand to her heart, wondering why it was suddenly hard to breathe.

Though no words were spoken, she knew in the deepest part of her being that he was there to protect her, that he would be there to defend her until the monster who was stalking her was captured or killed.

"That's very gallant of you," she murmured, and then realized he probably had no idea what she was talking about. Thinking of Antonio as her knight in shining armor was no more than wishful thinking on her part.

A slow smile curved his lips. "I will not let you down, my sweet one."

She blinked at him. Was he reading her mind? Had she read his?

A low groan from the direction of the sofa drew her attention. Looking past Battista, she saw Tom sitting up, his head cradled in his hands.

She hurried to his side. "Are you all right?"

"Yeah. I almost had him."

Sitting beside Duncan on the sofa, she combed her fingers lightly through his hair. He let out a yelp when her hand brushed against the large bump on the back of his head.

"You're bleeding!" she exclaimed as her fingertips came away bloody.

"I'm not surprised. I don't know what the devil he hit me with, but it felt like a sledgehammer."

"It was a rather large rock," Antonio said.

Tom looked up, frowning. "Who the hell are you?"

"No one of importance. I suggest you go to a doctor."

"I'm all right." Tom stared at the other man, his eyes narrowing. "You look familiar."

"Do I?" Antonio replied.

Tom lifted a hand to his head. "I'm sure we've met."

"You can figure it out later," Vicki said, taking a closer look at his injury. "I think Antonio's right. I think you might need some stitches."

Duncan lifted one hand to his head, wincing when his fingers hit the bump.

"You might have a concussion," Vicki said. "I'll… " She took a deep breath. "I'll drive you." She could think of a hundred things she would rather do than go out in the dark knowing a killer was out there, but what else could she do? She couldn't let Tom sit here and bleed to death on her sofa.

"No." The two men spoke simultaneously.

"I can drive myself," Tom said.

"I don't think that's a good idea," Vicki said. "I'll take you."

"We will both take him," Battista said. The tone of his voice indicated there would be no further discussion.

Vicki turned on the porch light, left lights burning in the living room, the kitchen, and her bedroom, and grabbed her purse.

By unspoken agreement, the two men put Vicki between them as they descended the porch stairs and made their way to where Tom had parked his car.

"I will drive," Battista said.

Tom climbed into the backseat, Vicki slid into the front seat. No one spoke on the drive to the hospital.

As had become her habit, Vicki kept looking over her shoulder, expecting and dreading what she might see. But there were no glowing yellow eyes staring back at her this time.

Battista pulled into the hospital parking lot a few minutes later. Exiting the car, he pulled the front seat forward and helped Duncan out of the backseat.

For a small town, Pear Blossom Creek boasted a modern hospital with all the latest equipment. A nurse in a crisp white uniform took one look at Tom Duncan's face, called for a wheelchair, and whisked him into an examination room.

Vicki crossed her arms over her breasts. "I hate hospitals," she muttered.

Battista nodded, his senses inundated by the myriad odors of drugs and antibiotics, of sickness and death. And blood. Rich red blood pumping in the hearts of patients and doctors alike, plasma stored in neat plastic bags. A veritable smorgasbord for a thirsty vampire. He turned away from Victoria lest she see the hunger he knew must be burning in his eyes.

Vicki paced up and down the corridor. She had a decided aversion to doctors and hospitals. Both reminded her of the days and nights she had sat at her grandfather's bedside during the last days of his life.

The soft shush-shush of leather-soled shoes heralded the return of the nurse.

"How is he?" Vicki asked.

"His condition is good, but the doctor wants to keep him overnight to make sure he doesn't have a concussion. He can go home in the morning."

"Can I see him?"

"Yes, if you like, but he's asleep."

"Oh." Vicki glanced at Battista, then looked back at the nurse. "Well, just tell him I'll call him in the morning, then."

"I will. And don't worry, he'll be fine."

"Thank you."

Turning away, Vicki headed for the door. She glanced over her shoulder to see if Antonio was behind her, surprised to find him right on her heels. It was a mystery how he moved so noiselessly in those boots when a nurse wearing soft-soled shoes could be heard walking in the corridor.

She stopped at the door, her gaze darting right and left through the glass.

Antonio opened the door and stepped out into the night, then turned and offered her his hand. She took it, grateful for his presence.

Antonio opened the car door for her. She checked the backseat before getting inside.

"He is not here," Battista said, getting behind the wheel.

"How do you know?"

He put the key in the ignition and started the engine. "I know."

She stared at him a moment, then locked her door. She hated being afraid like this. She had never thought of herself as a coward before, but she felt like one now, afraid of the dark, afraid of staying home alone after the sun went down.