Page 67 of How a Vampire Falls

“You did,” Leslie said.

Senna returned as quickly as she’d left, moving with speed and grace that didn’t spill a drop of Leslie’s coffee. She handed it over without acknowledging Laurence’s remark, and Leslie took a slow sip.

“Mmm. Colombian?”

“That’s right,” Senna said.

“No kidding, this is my favorite.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

No doubt she would. Leslie followed her and Laurence across the open lower level to the den, where she claimed a black leather chair and Ryker’s parents sat together on the matching love seat. Leslie sipped her cold brew and just…talked.

She told them about her art, shocked when they both said with enthusiasm they’d been following her creator accounts online since Ryker had told them he wanted to fly to Tennessee and meet his “true match.” Laurence proclaimed her recently sold winter-scape his favorite of her works, and Senna praised the creativity and variety of her pocket-sized overhead dioramas.

She told them about her life in Harmony Ridge and forgot to worry that it was too small for this state senator and prosecuting attorney. She forgot that Laurence held political office at all. He was simply Ryker’s dad, tuned in to her small-town stories, occasionally letting loose a booming laugh. Senna too committed her full attention whenever Leslie spoke. She laughed more often than her husband, an unrestrained sound of easy joy.

“Okay, that’s it,” Leslie finally said through her own laughter, after telling her side of the story from the day she first caught Ryker’s scent at the art fair. “I can’t talk about myself any more tonight. I want to know something new about Ryker.”

“Fair enough,” Laurence said. “But I need a minute to recover from ‘backup husband.’”

When they’d all sobered, Senna said, “Even for Ryker, this was a bold step. We cautioned him about how you might take it, but I’m not sure he really heard us.”

“He didn’t.” Leslie would never forget his surprise when she objected to his phrasing. “But it’s a great story now, and he course-corrected pretty fast once he realized.”

“You know him so well already,” Laurence said. “I wasn’t sure about this long-distance thing, but I guess it’s working for y’all.”

“It is for now,” Leslie said. “Someday we plan to split our time between the homes we love.”

“That’s a wonderful compromise,” Senna said.

“We make each other happy.”

Laurence and Senna were both nodding before she’d finished, and her heart felt the peace of that. This lovely couple made each other happy too. It was clear in every gesture, every warm look toward one another.

“Now,” Leslie said, “so I have some ammunition, because the dude does occasionally need some humbling… Do you have any childhood stories he doesn’t want me to know?”

Nineteen

The happy buzz in Ryker’s limbs had mostly worn off by the time he pulled into his townhouse garage. Skipping his sleep last night was only half the cause. Stress was tiring even for vampires, and thinking Frederick Angstrom was about to get away with defrauding dozens of Virginia families out of their insurance premiums had been weighing on him. Dad would have told him he could only do his best, and the rest wasn’t his responsibility. It was true, but it didn’tfeeltrue when Ryker was on the hunt for proof of wrongdoing.

He’d finished this one, though. Done his part to get justice and stop the criminals. He hoped Angstrom would have to pay retribution and serve a solid term behind bars. He looked forward to his chance at testifying on behalf of the victims.

For tonight though, bed sounded great. Six hours of sleep, then a few hours at the gym with Tai and Leslie…

Wait a minute.

Ryker’s nostrils flared. He had vampire neighbors on one side, human neighbors on the other, but he wasn’t smelling hisneighbors. There was another vampire close by. Within a few hundred feet. Sitting on his porch stoop.

Ryker left the garage, stood halfway down his driveway facing the side of the house. “Well? Come at me if that’s what you’re here for.”

She sauntered around the corner into his line of vision, dressed in flowing, wide-legged black pants and a yellow top. Her heels were the same color as Dorothy’s fromThe Wizard of Ozand equally sparkly. Her hair was even longer than the last time he’d seen her, a snow-white braid that ended past her waist. Why was her hair white?

“Jacqueline,” he said, and her name didn’t come out in the calm reprimand he’d been aiming for. He had to keep from sounding bothered. She’d feed on that.

“Hello, lover.”

“You need to leave.”

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