Page 117 of Blood and Buttercups

Ethan opens the door for me. “The pre-vamp he’s meeting with today—Colin McGary, door-to-door vacuum salesman—is currently locked in a closet, and my associate is waiting for Noah. I send him when people need to disappear.”

“Is he the same man who killed Kevin?” I ask, horrified.

“He is.” Ethan gives me a reassuring smile—like this isgoodnews. “Montgomery won’t be bothering you anymore. And as soon as he’s out of the picture, we’ll move your things to my place. No one else at NIHA will bother us.”

My stomach lurches violently.

If I pull out my phone to warn Noah, Ethan will confiscate it. If I don’t warn him…

“I have to use the restroom,” I blurt out, clutching my stomach. “I’m not feeling well.”

Looking startled, Ethan nods and then turns to one of the brown-haired door guards. “Show Piper to the restroom. Escort her back when she’s finished.”

The man nods, silent.

“I’ll hold your purse for you,” Ethan says, giving me a knowing smile.

He thinks my phone is in it. Wanting him to think he’s right, I reluctantly hand it over.

Then I follow the guard back inside, so thankful Ethan didn’t think to check my pockets.

As soon as I escape inside the posh, hushed restroom, I hurry into a stall and take out my phone to text Noah.

Piper: It’s a setup. Your new pre-vamp is locked in a closet, and the guy waiting for you is an assassin who works for Ethan.

After I send the text, I check his location. He’s in New Castle, and it says he’s been there for ten minutes. I wait for him to respond, my leg shaking, but my phone is silent.

Next, I text Cassian.

Piper: Ethan set up Noah. The man posing as his pre-vamp is going to kill him.

Cassian: No problem. I’ll give him a heads-up.

No problem?What iswrongwith these vampires?

Cassian: Do you know where Ethan is taking you?

Piper: Back to his place.

Cassian: I’ll see you there.

I emerge from the restroom and give my guard a weak smile. “Sorry about that.”

He merely nods and then walks me back to the door like I’m a young child in need of an escort.

I slide into the passenger seat of the Lamborghini, having a nasty case of déjà vu. Then I glance around, suddenly realizing why the windows are so darkly tinted—it’s not to keep people from seeing in. It’s to block the sunlight.

Too bad I didn’t get the vampire intuition before I got in the car with Ethan the first time.

It takesover thirty minutes to reach Ethan’s property. His home is tucked away in the country, close to Basalt. The house is huge, easily six or seven thousand square feet. There’s a pond out front with a mermaid fountain in the middle—a respectful nod to all our native Colorado mermaids, I’m sure.

The house is built of rectangular tan stones, three stories tall, with layers of balconies and large windows I can see being troublesome for a night-loving vampire. A sprawling patio on the lower level boasts several umbrella tables, lots of loungers, and a turquoise pool—again, an odd choice for a vampire.

The landscape and the hardscape are tastefully done, though a bit on the extravagant side. The property doesn’t whisper wealth—it screams it. Ethan’s home is the picture of Colorado opulence right here in the verdant mountains.

Ethan pulls into the four-car garage. He parks next to three other expensive cars, the names of which I can’t even guess, and waits for the door to close fully before he gets out.

I follow him as he leads me across another patio that’s covered with canvas shade fabric, up the stairs, and into a back entry. He produces a key and opens the door.

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