How to Marry a Millionaire Vampire

CHAPTER 13

Roman wandered across the ballroom, accompanied by Radinka. A small army of janitors was at work. Three men crossed the floor, swinging their buffing machines from side to side, as they polished the black and white checkered linoleum to a glossy finish. Others were cleaning the plate glass windows that looked out onto the garden.

Radinka had her clipboard in hand and was checking off each item on her list. "I called to make sure the ice sculptures would be delivered on time tomorrow. Eight-thirty sharp."

"No gargoyles or bats, please," Roman muttered.

"And what would you have? Swans and unicorns?" Radinka eyed him impatiently. "Need I remind you this is a vampire ball?"

"I know." Roman groaned. Ten years ago, he had insisted on eliminating the ghoulish decorations. It was a spring conference, after all, not a Halloween party. But everyone had thrown such a fit, he was now stuck with the same ridiculous Dracula theme every year. The same gruesome ice sculptures, the same black and white balloons floating along the ceiling. The same guests every year, always dressed in black and white.

Each year, he hosted the event at Romatech. They opened up a dozen conference rooms to make one huge ballroom, and vampires from around the world came to party. He'd started the tradition twenty-three years earlier to please the ladies in his coven. They loved it. He had grown to hate it. It was a waste of time—time that was better spent in his laboratory.

Or with Shanna. She was never black and white. She came in colors. Blue eyes, pink lips, and redhot kisses. He couldn't wait to see her again, but first he needed to get some work done in his lab.

He'd teleported to his office more than forty minutes ago, but he'd been so busy with this nonsense, he hadn't even seen his laboratory. "Did my package from China arrive?"

"What package?" Radinka ran a finger down her list. "I don't see anything here from China."

"It has nothing to do with the damned ball. It's for the formula I'm working on in my lab."

"Oh, well. I wouldn't know about that." She pointed at an item on her clipboard. "We're trying a new band tomorrow. The High Voltage Vamps, and they play everything from minuets to modern rock. Won't that be fun?"

"Hilarious. I'm going to my lab." He headed for the door.

"Roman, wait up!" He heard Gregori's voice behind him and turned around. Gregori and Laszlo were entering the far side of the ballroom.

"About time." Roman strode toward them. "Laszlo, I still have your cell phone." He took the phone from his pocket. "And I need you to remove these wires from my mouth."

Laszlo just stared at him. His eyes were wide and unfocused. His fingers were flexing with jerky spasms as if he wanted to grab a button, but wasn't quite able to master the movement.

"Here, buddy." Gregori escorted him to one of the chairs that lined the walls. "Hi, Mom."

"Good evening, dear." Radinka gave her son a peck on the cheek, then sat beside the chemist.

"What's wrong, Laszlo?" When he didn't respond, she looked at Roman. "I think he's in shock."

"We both are." Gregori ran a hand through his thick brown hair. "I've got bad news. Really bad."

Great. Roman called out to the workers to take a thirty-minute break. He waited for them to file out, then faced Gregori. "Explain."

"I offered Laszlo a ride to work this evening, and he wanted to stop by his apartment to change clothes. We went there, and it was a total mess. I mean, destroyed! Furniture broken, cushions shredded. And spray paint on the walls."

"They want to kill me," Laszlo whispered.

"Yeah." Gregori grimaced. "They painted a message on the wall. Death to Laszlo Veszto. Death to Shanna Whelan"

Roman's breath caught. Bloody hell. "The Russians know we're harboring Shanna."

"How did they find out?" Radinka asked.

"It must have been Laszlo's car," Roman said. "They traced the plates."

"What will I do?" Laszlo whispered. "I'm just a chemist."

"Don't worry. You're under my protection, and you'll be living in my house for as long as you need."

"There, buddy." Gregori patted the chemist on the shoulder. "I told you it would be all right."

It was far from all right. Roman exchanged a worried look with Gregori. Ivan Petrovsky would take Roman's actions as a personal insult. He might even encourage his coven to attack. By protecting Shanna, Roman had exposed his own coven to the possibility of war.

Radinka squeezed Laszlo's hand. "Everything will be fine. Angus MacKay is coming tonight with more Highlanders. We'll have more security than the White House."

Laszlo took a deep, shaky breath. "All right. I'll be okay."

Roman flipped open Laszlo's cell phone. "If the Russians believe she's in my house, they might attack." He punched in his home number. "Connor, I want security tightened around the house. The Russians—"

"Sir!" Connor interrupted. "Ye called just in time. We canna find her. She's missing."

It felt like a kick in the gut. "You mean Shanna?"

"Aye. She's gone. I was just going to call you."

"Dammit!" Roman shouted. "How could you lose her?"

"What's going on?" Gregori stepped toward him.

"She… she's gone," Roman croaked. All of a sudden, his throat didn't seem to work right.

"She fooled the guard at the front door," Connor said.

"How? Couldn't he tell she's mortal?"

"She was dressed like one of yer ladies," Connor explained. "And she pretended she was here with Simone. When she insisted on going out, he let her go."

Why would she leave him? They'd shared a kiss only an hour ago. Unless… "Are you saying she met the other women?"

"Aye," Connor said. "They told her they were yer harem."

"Oh shit." Roman walked away a few steps, lowering the phone. He should have known those women couldn't keep their mouths shut. And now Shanna was in so much danger.

"If the Russians get her…" Gregori left the sentence unfinished.

Roman lifted the phone back to his ear. "Connor, station someone outside Ivan Petrovsky's house. If he captures her, he'll take her there."

"Aye, sir."

"Send a bulletin out to the coven members. Maybe one of them will see her." He had followers in the five boroughs who worked night jobs. It was possible one of them might see her tonight. Not likely, but it was their best chance at finding her.

"I will. I… I'm verra sorry, sir," Connor's voice cracked. "I was fond of the lass."

"I know." Roman hung up. God's blood. His lovely Shanna. Where could she be?

Shanna was waiting in front of the Toys «R» Us in Times Square. The area was always brightly lit and jammed with people, so it had seemed the safest place to go. Tourists snapped pictures and gawked at buildings covered with video screens. Streetcorners were busy with vendors selling handbags.

It had occurred to her while she was walking that she was in desperate need of cash—cash that would not be traceable. She couldn't contact family or old friends without endangering them.

Besides, her family was overseas. They'd come to Boston last summer for a short visit, then left again for Lithuania. And her old friends were out of state.

So she'd called some new friends. The guys at Carlo's Deli. Carlo had seen the destruction at the dental clinic and was willing to help. She'd asked Tommy to meet her here.

She was pressed against the building to keep from being mowed over by the constant surge of moving people. When she spotted Tommy, she yelled and waved her arms.

"Hey!" The pizza delivery boy grinned as he dodged pedestrians. In his hands, he carried a zippered pizza case.

"Hi, Tommy."

"Sorry it took me so long." Tommy's jeans slid down his lanky form, revealing boxers with baby Scooby Doos.

She gave him a hug. "Thank you so much. And please thank Carlo for me, too."

"No problem." He leaned close to her ear. "The cash is in a Ziploc bag underneath the pizza. I figured we'd better make this delivery look real."

"Oh. Good idea." She took her checkbook from her purse. "How much do I owe you?"

"For the pizza?" Tommy asked in a booming voice as he looked around. Then, he lowered his voice, "Four enchiladas. It was all we could spare." He seemed to be enjoying the situation, like he'd suddenly joined the cast of a spy movie.

"I'm assuming that's four hundred." She wrote a check out to Carlo's Deli, then handed it to Tommy.

"If you can wait a week or so before turning that in, I'd appreciate it."

"What's going on, Doc?" He unzipped the bag and removed a small pizza box. "Some big guys with Russian accents came by the deli, asking questions about you."

"Oh no!" She looked around, suddenly worried they might have followed Tommy.

"Hey, it's cool. We didn't say nothing."

"Oh. Thank you, Tommy."

"Why do those guys want to hurt you?"

Shanna sighed. She hated involving innocent people. "Let's just say that I saw something I shouldn't have."

"The FBI could help. Hey, I bet that's who those guys were."

"What guys?"

"The men in black. They came by asking about you, too."

"Well, I guess I'm very popular lately." She needed to call Bob Mendoza soon. Hopefully, this time he'd answer the phone.

"Anything else we can do?" Tommy's eyes sparkled. "This is kinda fun."

"It's not a game. Don't let them know you've been in contact with me." She fumbled in her purse.

"Let me get you a tip."

"No. No way. You need your money."

"Oh, Tommy. How can I ever thank you?" She kissed his cheek.

"Whoa. That'll do. You take it easy, Doc." He wandered off with a grin.

Shanna gathered up her belongings and headed in the opposite direction. In a drugstore, she used the pay phone to call Bob.

"Mendoza here." His voice sounded tired.

"Bob, this is… Jane. Jane Wilson."

"What a relief. I was so worried. Where have you been?"

There was something wrong. Shanna couldn't quite put her finger on it. He just didn't sound worried or relieved.

"Tell me where you are."

"I'm on the run, Bob. What do you think? I need to get out of New York."

"You're still in New York? Where, exactly?"

Shanna felt a prick at the back of her neck. Rational thought told her to confide in the federal marshal, but her gut was screaming something was wrong. "I'm in a store. Shall I come to your office?"

"No. I will come for you. Tell me where you are."

Shanna swallowed hard. There was something odd about his voice, something distant and mechanical. "I… I'd rather go to your office tomorrow morning."

There was another pause. Shanna thought she heard a voice in the distance. Female.

"I will give you directions to a safe house. Be there tomorrow night at eight-thirty."

"Okay." Shanna wrote down the address. It was somewhere in New Rochelle. "I'll see you tomorrow. Good-bye."

"Wait! Tell me, where have you been? How did you escape?"

Was he trying to keep her on the phone? Of course, she was being traced. "Bye." She hung up. Her hand was shaking. Good God, she was getting paranoid. Even a federal marshal seemed suspicious to her. In another week, she'd be blubbering to herself about aliens and wearing aluminum foil on her head.

She gazed at the ceiling as if to communicate with God and let out a long, silent groan of frustration. Why me? All I ever wanted was a normal life!

She purchased a box of hair dye and a cheap nylon zippered tote bag for her meager belongings.

Then she found a reasonably priced hotel on Seventh Avenue and registered under a false name, paying cash. With a great sigh of relief, she locked herself into her room. She'd done it. Escaped the Russians. Escaped Roman the Pig and his house of horrors. She didn't know which upset her more— Roman's taste in women or the coffins in his basement. Yeech! She shuddered.

Forget them—think of the future and how you will survive.

In the bathroom, she applied the hair color, then settled on the bed to wait thirty minutes. She ate pizza while flipping through TV channels. When a local news channel flashed by, she stopped.

Good God, it was the SoHo So-Bright Dental Clinic. Shattered glass littered sidewalks that were partitioned off with yellow crime scene tape.

She turned up the volume. The newscaster explained how the clinic had been destroyed the night before. Police were investigating the matter in connection to a nearby homicide.

Shanna gasped when a picture of a young blond woman flashed on the screen. Her body had been discovered in an alley close to the clinic. Official cause of death was unknown at this time, but the reporter had heard rumors of a bizarre injury. Two punctures in the neck like an animal bite. People in the neighborhood were blaming a secret cult of teenage dropouts who liked to pretend they were vampires.

Vampires? Shanna snorted. She'd heard about the underground societies—bored kids with nothing better to do with their time and money than drink blood and have their canine teeth purposely altered to resemble vampire fangs. It was sick. No reputable dentist would ever do such a thing. Still, against her will, a series of memories zipped through her mind. A wolf's fang in Roman's hand. His seemingly lifeless body lying in her bed. A basement filled with coffins.

A chill crept up her spine. No, there was no such thing as vampires. She'd been through too much trauma. She was getting paranoid. That was all. People only pretended to be vampires.

And there were rational explanations for everything. She'd checked Roman's tooth, and it had been a normal size. Okay, so it was more pointed than usual. That could be explained, too. It was an unusual genetic trait. A person could be born with webbed fingers or toes without being a mermaid. And the coffins? Oh God. What possible explanation could there be for that?

She went back to the bathroom to rinse her hair. She toweled it dry and examined herself in the mirror. Platinum blond, like Marilyn Monroe. The comparison was not too comforting. Marilyn had died young. Shanna regarded herself with dismay. She looked a lot like the woman she'd recently seen on television.

The blond woman killed by a vampire.

"This is not my area of expertise, sir." Laszlo twisted a button on his new, bright white lab coat.

"Don't worry." Roman scooted onto a stool in his lab at Romatech. "Besides, how could you hurt me? I'm already dead."

"Well, not technically, sir. Your brain is still active."

His brain was mush, though Roman didn't care to admit it. Since receiving the news about Shanna's disappearance, he could hardly follow his own train of thought. "You did a good job wiring VANNA to work. I'm sure you'll manage with me."

Laszlo picked up a wire cutter, then changed his mind and selected some needle-nosed pliers. "I'm not quite sure how to go about this."

"Just rip the damn wires out of my mouth."

"Yes, sir." Laszlo advanced toward Roman's open mouth with the pliers. "I apologize in advance for any discomfort."

"Unh." Roman acknowledged the remark.

"I appreciate your confidence in me." Laszlo yanked the wires loose. "And I'm glad to have something to do. Otherwise, I start thinking about…" He lowered his hand and frowned.

"Aaargh." Roman had wires poking the inside of his mouth. This was not the time for Laszlo to obsess over death threats.

"Oh, sorry." Laszlo resumed his work. "I still don't have my car. We left it at the dental office last night with VANNA in the trunk. So I don't have anything to work on tonight."

Roman remembered his unfortunate conclusion regarding the Vampire Artificial Nutritional Needs Appliance. That toy had propelled him into a powerful state of blood-lust. She would remind every Vamp how glorious it was to bite. He hated to tell Laszlo his project would have to be scrapped, especially when the guy was going through hell. Maybe after the conference.

"There." Laszlo removed the last of the wires. "All done, sir. How does it feel?"

Roman ran his tongue along his teeth. "Good. Thanks."

Now, he wouldn't have to attend the conference with wires in his mouth. And Shanna wouldn't be able to use the splint excuse to avoid kissing him. Not that he had much hope for future kisses.

He glanced at the clock in his lab. Three-thirty a.m. He'd been calling Connor every thirty minutes for an update, but no one had seen Shanna. She'd pulled a great disappearing act.

Roman knew she was tough and smart. And she had his crucifix to protect her. Still, he worried. He couldn't concentrate on work. His package from China had arrived, but even that couldn't distract him from his growing sense of frustration and anxiety.

"Is there something else I can do?" Laszlo was back to plucking at his buttons.

"Would you like to assist me on my current project?" Roman gathered a pile of papers from his desk.

"I'd be honored, sir."

"I'm working on a formula that would enable us to stay awake during the daylight hours." Roman handed the papers to Laszlo.

His eyes widened. "Fascinating." He examined the papers.

Roman returned to his desk and opened the package. "This is a root from a rare plant that grows in Southern China. It's supposed to have remarkable energizing effects." He dug through a mass of Styrofoam peanuts and pulled out a dried root encased in bubble wrap.

"May I see it?" Laszlo reached for the dried plant.

"Sure." A week ago, the project had fascinated him. But now Roman had lost interest. Why bother to stay awake during the day if he couldn't share the time with Shanna? God's blood, she had affected him more strongly than he had realized. And now that she was gone, there was nothing he could do about it.

Two hours later, Roman returned to his townhouse. His guests from Europe were safely tucked away in guestrooms on the third and fourth floors. His so-called harem had been chastised for their rudeness to Shanna. They were skulking in their rooms on the second floor.

He entered his office and headed to the wet bar for a bedtime snack. While the bottle warmed up in the microwave, he wandered toward his desk. Memories of Shanna filled his mind. He could see her resting on the blood-red velvet chaise. He could see them kissing by the door.

He stopped with a jerk. There on his desk was the silver chain and crucifix. "Shanna, no." He reached for the cross, but it instantly seared his flesh.

"Shit!" He dropped it and examined the burned skin on his fingertips. Just what he needed—a painful reminder that God had abandoned him. Damn. He would heal overnight, but what would become of Shanna? Without the silver cross, she had no protection from the Russian vampires.

This was his fault. He should have been more honest. Now, in her anger, she had rejected the one thing she needed most to survive.

Roman squeezed his eyes shut and concentrated hard. He'd been connected to her mentally just the night before. And it had been an amazingly strong, two-way connection. Perhaps some of it remained.

He reached out for her. Shanna! Shanna, where are you ?

God's blood, he felt so alone and helpless.

Shanna moaned in her sleep, haunted by a strange dream. She was at work, and Tommy was in the examination chair, telling her to chill. Then he transformed into Roman. He raised his hand, palm up. A wolf's fang rested in a pool of blood.

Shanna rolled over. No, no blood.

In her dream, she picked up her instruments and looked inside Roman's mouth. She glanced at the dental mirror. What? The mirror showed an empty chair, but Roman was in the chair. Suddenly he caught her hand. He wrenched the dental mirror from her grasp and tossed it onto the tray. "Come with me."

Instantly they were back in Roman's office. He took her in his arms and whispered, "Trust me."

Shanna felt herself melting.

Then he kissed her, kisses that she never wanted to end, kisses so hot that she kicked the blanket off the bed. He led her to his bedroom and opened the door. His king-sized bed was gone.

In the middle of the room sat a black coffin. No. Shanna stared at it in horror.

Roman held out his hand, beckoning her forward. She retreated to his office, but the harem was there, laughing at her. They had a new member—the dead blond from the television newscast.

Blood trickled from two punctures on her neck.

With a jolt, Shanna sat up in bed, gasping for air. Oh God, even in her sleep she was a basket case.

She dropped her head forward into her hands and rubbed her temples.

Shanna! Shanna, where are you?

"Roman?"

She looked around the dark room, half expecting one of the dark shadows to move toward her. The clock on the bedside table glowed the time. Five-thirty a.m. She turned on the lamp.

No one there. She took a deep breath. Just as well. Roman couldn't help her. He couldn't be trusted. Tears of frustration threatened to overflow.

Dear God, she had never felt so alone and helpless.