Out of the Night (36 page)

Rising from the bed, Gem still in her arms, Lame grabbed a bag of blood from the desk. She carried Gem into the bathroom, placed her in the tub with the bag, and waited as the little chupacabra drank. When Gem was finished, Lanie rinsed away the spilled blood and then carried her back into the bedroom.

There was little left for her to pack, so rather than finish immediately, she opened her curtains and sat down in the corner armchair. Gem hopped into her lap and, as Lanie began stroking her head, emitted a soothing purring noise. Together, they watched the sun rise.

The sound of the phone ringing woke Lanie sometime later, and muscles stiff from having slept at an awkward angle, she had trouble getting out of the chair to answer it. In her arms she still clutched Gem, now looking like a rather large gargoyle statue. Setting her down on the bed, she reached for the phone.

"Hello?"

"Ms. Weber? This is the front desk with your wake-up call," the too-pleasant voice on the other end of the line replied.

"My what?" Lanie was confused.

"Your wake-up call. Mr. Knight placed the request a couple of hours ago. He said you had a plane to catch. We have a car ready to take you to the airport where, I'm told, there is a ticket waiting in your name. Will you need a bellhop to help with your bags?"

It took several moments for Lanie's foggy brain to register what she was being told. Mac had taken care of everything. She guessed he didn't want to take any chances that she would stay. Well, no worries there. "No, that won't be necessary. I've changed my mind and decided to stay."

"Oh." The woman's worried tone concerned her.

"Is that a problem?"

"Well, it's just that your room has already been reassigned to someone else." The woman was clearly flustered.

"You rented my room to someone else? Who?"

"I'm sorry. We're not at liberty to say."

Lanie stared at the wall, doing her best to bring her emotions under control. "Okay, look, that's fine. Do you have any other rooms available? I'll take one of those."

Immediately the woman's tone brightened. "Yes. I can put you on the fifth floor."

"Great."

"I'll need a credit card."

"I'm on my way down."

She hung up the phone, feeling irritated yet defiant. She wasn't going to let Mac force her to leave. Digging in her purse for her "emergencies only" credit card, she pulled it out, feeling victorious. Just let
that man
try to tell her what to do, she silently challenged. She'd stay as long as she damn well wanted to—or at least as long as she could. She held the card up and studied it, as if she might find the amount of her remaining available credit balance stamped somewhere on the surface.

Surely there was enough for one night, and that's all she'd need to make her point. She grabbed her key card and went down to the lobby. It didn't take long to register, and with the key to her new room in hand, she returned to the old one to begin transferring her few belongings.

She did a final check of clothes and toiletries and was about to close her duffel bag when her eyes strayed to the closet—and the dress still hanging inside. Exasperated with herself, she went over and got it. "This does not mean I'm keeping it," she argued to herself. "I'm simply going to hold on to it until I've had a chance to consider the matter and make a less-emotional decision." She folded the dress and placed it on top of the other clothes. "Besides, I can always throw it out later."

She looked around the room once again and saw there was nothing left to pack, so she zipped up her bag. She pulled her father's suitcase and laptop from the closet and stood them next to her duffel bag and purse. Next, she picked up Gem, now looking like an exceptionally large paperweight, and placed her inside the carrier, closing the door.

She was ready. She looked about, trying to decide the best way to carry all her things, when there was a knock at her door. Her first thought was that the balance on the credit card hadn't been enough. She grabbed her wallet, just in case, and then opened the door.

The impact of a fist hitting her jaw sent her flying backward. Pain shot through her as she landed on the floor. She quickly scrambled back to her feet, trying to make sense of who was attacking her and why. The man, who clearly wasn't the bellhop, didn't seem interested in providing explanations as he moved rapidly and hit her once more. This time she fell against the TV, knocking it askew.

When she straightened and tried to run for the other side of the room, he tackled her to the floor and pinned her. She struck at him with her fists and kicked her feet, desperately trying to get away, but to no avail.

She opened her mouth to scream but never got the chance. She saw the fist coming at her and felt the pain. Then there was nothing.

Mac and Dirk had left while Lanie was sleeping. Mac had made arrangements to get her to the airport, fighting the urge to wake her and explain how he really felt. Only the unknown of the future kept him from doing it. If he and Dirk couldn't find Burton, or couldn't kill him, then they'd never be safe. He didn't want her constantly having to look over her shoulder, which was the life he had ahead of him if he failed tonight. It would be better for her to hate him and get on with her own life.

With thoughts of her roiling through his head, Mac had been poor company for Dirk. Now, hours later, they sat on the tarmac of the airfield at Camp David, watching the sun set on the horizon and waiting for the Secret Service to escort them to the main facility. From there, they'd spread out and look around for signs of Burton and his men. With luck, the Secret Service had taken Admiral Winslow's instructions seriously and secured the President. Meanwhile, a look-alike was being flown in shortly, in hopes that they could still flush out the would-be assassins.

His thoughts returning to Lanie, Mac wondered what kind of future they might have had together. He wasn't the same man he was when he'd started this adventure. Maybe it would be better if he
didn't
try to see her again. Returning to fly charters was out of the question, unless he took only the night flights. It was something he'd have to discuss with Keith and Sandra.

Slowly, Mac realized that Dirk was talking to him. "What?"

"I said, as soon as we get back, I'll move my stuff into Lanie's room—or rather my new room—and then we can decide what to do about Winslow's offer." He paused a moment. "Do you think he was serious?"

"About joining his task force? Probably."

Dirk gave a soft chuckle. "
Joining
the task force, hell, man, we
are
the task force."

It was true. The admiral's idea was to create a task force, funded by his family fortune and operated secretly. Its main objective—to track down and kill vampires.

"Are you seriously considering it?"

Dirk thought about it. "Yeah, I think I am. What about you?"

"I don't know," Mac admitted. "Maybe. There are some things I need to take care of first."

Mac didn't specifically say Lanie's name, but he knew Dirk understood. The way he'd left things with her, he wasn't sure she'd ever want to see him again.

He felt his mood sinking lower still and drew on years of discipline to drive thoughts of her from his mind. Now wasn't the time to let emotions get in the way.

"Showtime," he said when his phone rang. He pulled it out and then felt his heart lurch when he glanced at the caller ID.

"Lanie? Is everything all right?"

"Sorry, old man." Burton's laughter greeted him. "She can't come to the phone right now. She's a bit tied up."

"If you harm her in any way," Mac warned, filled with an impotent rage. "I'll—"

"What?" Burton mocked. "You'll kill me?"

"Where is she, Burton?"

"She's here—in my bed. I can well understand the attraction, Knight. In fact, I'm not sure that I'll grow bored with her as quickly as with the others." He laughed again, and it took everything in Mac not to react.

"I want to talk to her," Mac bit out. "Now."

There was a moment of silence, and then Lanie came on the line, sounding faint—and frightened. "Mac?" Her voice cracked when she said his name and he longed to hold her; to protect her.

"I'm here, baby."

"I'm sorry, Mac."

"Be strong, Lanie. I'm coming to get you."

"No, don't," she begged. "Save the Pres—"

There was the sound of a slap, followed by Lanie's small cry, and Mac's grip on the phone tightened until he thought it might break.

"If you want to see your girlfriend again," Burton said, coming back on, "then you'll meet me—tonight."

"Where?"

"Tell him where we are, sweet thing," Mac heard Burton say. "He'll never believe me if I tell him."

Lanie's voice, sounding strained and defeated, came back on the line and she gave him a D.C. address. Mac swore beneath his breath. Burton had never left town.

"Got it?" Burton asked, back on the phone.

Mac glanced at his watch and did some quick math. "It'll take me a couple of hours to get there."

"I'm sure we'll find a way to keep ourselves amused until you arrive."

The phone went dead, and Mac gritted his teeth tightly together, trying to get his emotions under control. Finally, he forced himself to take a deep breath and relax. "He's got Lanie." Quickly he told Dirk everything.

"No problem," Dirk said. "You fly the plane back and take care of Lanie and Burton. I'll stay here and deal with the assassins."

"You know it's a trap."

"Sure, but for which one of us? Burton's not even here, and we both know he's the bigger threat Chances are, he's not alone. Worst case for me is that I've got two or three vampires to find and take out. Piece of cake. You, on the other hand…"

Mac nodded. He didn't need Dirk to spell out the dangers for him.

"Be careful." Dirk reached into his pocket, pulled out a set of keys, and tossed them to him.

"You, too." They shook hands and Dirk climbed out. Mac waited until he saw his friend standing clear of the plane before starting the engine. He called in the change of flight plans as he taxied down the short runway, and by the time he reached the end and lifted into the sky, he'd received clearance.