Runaway Vampire (2 page)

His mouth tightened as he recalled the impact of several tons of metal and wood rolling over his stomach
and lower chest. He'd actually heard his ribs snapping and the pop as one of his lungs had burst. He hadn't lost consciousness though, and when the first tires had cleared him, he'd instinctively tried to roll out of the way of the back wheels, but dazed and shocked and gasping for breath at that point, he'd merely got turned around under the vehicle so that the back right tires had rolled over one of his ankles. A fortuitous event really, because had he got any farther in the direction he'd been moving, the back left tires would have rolled over his head. Better to have a crushed ankle than a crushed head, he thought dryly, and then let out a short breath and glanced toward where his feet were caught against the wall. He just as quickly looked away again, unwilling to focus too closely on just how badly mangled his one lower leg was.

Damn, he was a mess, he acknowledged. So much so that he had to wonder how he'd managed to even get himself into the RV. The moments after the accident were a bit muddled in his head. He recalled his panic over his pursuers catching up to him. It had been enough to make him drag himself to his feet.

He'd been desperate to reach the driver's door and gain help. Only there had been no driver's door, just a large window high up showing nothing but an empty cab. He'd been considering that with some confusion when he'd heard a door slam closed on the other side of the vehicle. Dante had immediately started to hobble around the front of the RV when a dog had suddenly appeared beside him out of the darkness. Tail wagging and sniffing curiously, the furry fellow had seemed
friendly enough as he trailed him around the vehicle, but when the owner had called out, the dog had raced off into the darkness along the RV.

Dante had tried to call out then, hoping for help, but he was barely getting any oxygen into his one remaining lung. He wasn't even sure how he was moving, but shouting was out of the question, so he'd simply continued around the RV. He'd spotted the flashlight moving over the road behind the RV as he came around the front of the vehicle, but it had seemed miles away in his condition. Then he'd spotted the door on this side of the vehicle and it had seemed like the gates of heaven. Dante had opened the door, and dragged himself up the steps. He'd paused then and glanced toward the flashlight by the back of the RV again. The driver had been in view at that point and he'd been surprised to note that it was a woman.

He'd tried to slip into her thoughts and take control of her, hoping to urge her back into the RV and get them moving, but he hadn't been able to either read or control her. Realizing he was too weak to perform what should have been an easy task, Dante had decided discretion was the better part of valor here and had continued on into the RV, easing the door closed just as the German shepherd had rushed back toward him.

It had been dark inside, but his eyes did well in darkness and the moment he'd spotted the bed toward the back of the RV, Dante had headed for it. He'd made his way to the soft berth, relieved to find that there was a door to the small room. He'd managed to find the strength to pull it closed, and then had collapsed on the
bed with relief. He must have passed out then, though probably not for long, but the next moment he was tumbling from the bed to the floor as the RV accelerated.

He'd waited stiffly, afraid his pursuers may have overcome the driver and were now in charge of the vehicle, but then he'd heard the woman call the dog to her. Her voice had been a little tense when she spoke, but not the terror stricken type of tense he was sure he would have heard had she found herself in the hands of the captors he'd just escaped. It seemed he'd eluded his pursuers, he'd reassured himself solemnly. Although there was no guarantee they weren't following them even now, waiting for the opportunity to steal him back. He needed to heal and get his strength back so that he could ensure he didn't land in their hands again before he could call Mortimer or Lucian and tell them what was happening. To do that, he needed blood.

His gaze focused on the blanket hanging half off the bed and he almost sighed. He didn't have the strength to pull himself onto the bed, let alone drag himself over it and open the door so that he could see his driver, slip into her thoughts, and make her come to him. It seemed he'd have to wait for her to come to him on her own. He just hoped she didn't wait too long to do so. The woman may not realize it, but she was in danger. Even if his pursuers hadn't shown themselves to her, they must have seen the RV. He had no doubt they would come searching for them. The good news was the men would have to make their way back to the house where they'd been keeping him and Tomasso to fetch their vehicle. It would buy a little time at least, but not much, he feared.
If the woman didn't come to him immediately on stopping, they could both be in trouble.

“D
amn,” Mary growled as she stared at the broken face of her cell phone. It must have bounced off something as it had tumbled from its holder. Or perhaps she'd stepped on it in her rush to get out or into her seat. Whatever the case, the glass front was shattered and the phone was dead . . . so much for calling the police.

Frowning, Mary set the phone back in its holder and then picked up the pen attached to the tiny memo clipboard she'd affixed on the dashboard, and quickly wrote down the cross street and the miles from it to the accident site. Setting the pen back, she then glanced toward the road, looking both ways before taking her foot off the brake and starting forward again. She'd have to stop at the first store or gas station she came across and use the phone there to call the police with her directions. It meant delaying her arrival at the campgrounds even further, but it had to be done. Her conscience would never rest if she didn't.

The good news was Mary didn't think she would have to go far to find a phone. As she recalled from her perusal of the map that morning, there was at least one truck stop coming up where the 87 met the 10, and this road should take her to the 87 soon, from what she could tell by the quick glance she took at the Garmin GPS. She would have to get gas while she was at the
truck stop too, Mary thought, noting where the needle was on the gas gauge.

A whine from Bailey reached her ears, and Mary glanced around but still couldn't make out the dog. A niggling worry that perhaps the shepherd had been injured after all by something falling when she'd accelerated made Mary frown and she coaxed, “Come on up here, sweetie. I know you're tired and we'll be there soon, but come sit with Mama now so I know you're okay.”

When that didn't elicit any reaction, Mary eased her foot off the gas and risked leaning quickly to the side to grab the flashlight off the passenger seat. It was quite a stretch and was probably incredibly stupid, but she managed to snag the flashlight and not swerve all over the road while she did it.

Switching the flashlight on, she shone it toward the back of the RV and risked a quick glance over her shoulder, relieved when she spotted Bailey simply lying in front of the bedroom door. She looked fine in the quick glimpse Mary got. Deciding the dog was just tired and complaining of the long journey, she switched off the flashlight and laid it on the huge dashboard.

Bailey liked a certain bedtime and, when tired, would let it be known. Usually she did so by pawing at your arm and giving you the “sad eyes,” as Joe had always called her expression when she did that. Fortunately, the dog knew better than to paw at her while she was driving so was apparently making her complaint more vocal. At least, Mary hoped that was the case. But she
intended on giving the dog a good look-over when she reached the truck stop anyway, just to be sure a falling object hadn't injured her.

Her mind taken up with this worry as well as what she would say when she called the police, Mary was a little startled when the Garmin announced the approaching turn onto 87. It gave enough warning that she was able to slow down and make the turn without sending anything else clattering to the floor from the cupboards and drawers. Relieved by this, she squinted into the distance, looking for the truck stop despite knowing it was past the I-10 and surely out of sight for now.

Programmed to take her to the campground, the Garmin instructed her to take the ramp onto the I-10 as she approached it, but Mary ignored it and continued on 87. A moment later she spotted the lights and pumps of the truck stop ahead. She slowed almost to a crawl to make the turn, hoping to once again avoid sending anything crashing around in the back that might hit Bailey.

There was a definite sense of relief when she had the RV parked and shut down. At least there was until Mary slid out from behind the wheel and stood to turn and survey the wreckage in the RV aisle. There was enough light from the truck stop coming through the windows that she could see just how large the task ahead of her was to put everything safely back where it belonged. Knowing she'd have to do that before leaving the truck stop, Mary grimaced and then began to make her way toward the back of the RV.

Her purse was safely tucked out of sight in the bedroom closet where she always kept it and she might
need change to use the pay phone if the workers in the truck stop refused to let her use their phone. Besides, it was well past suppertime and was going to be even later by the time she cleaned up and tucked everything away. Having dinner here would save her the chore of cooking herself a meal when she did finally reach the campground.

Mary slipped on something slick on the floor, and grabbed for the kitchen counter, then glanced down with a frown at the stain in front of the refrigerator. It was a small dark puddle, one of several she'd half noted. It looked like ketchup, but with a more liquid consistency. The fridge door had obviously also opened and closed during her earlier abrupt stop, but she wasn't sure what had fallen out and spilled over the floor. She couldn't immediately spot a broken jar or anything, although the bowls and towels and other things now scattered across the floor may be hiding it.

Adding washing the floor to the list of chores she needed to perform before getting back on the road, Mary continued toward the back. Bailey stood as she approached, whined excitedly and turned to nose the door to the bedroom, obviously eager to get inside.

“Yes, yes. You can get on the bed and sleep,” Mary said with exasperation as she reached to slide open the bedroom pocket door. It was all the permission Bailey needed. The moment Mary had the door open wide enough for her to slide through, the dog was rushing forward to leap on the bed.

Shaking her head, Mary stepped into the small space. She leaned against the edge of the mattress as she
turned to open the nearest wardrobe door. It and the drawers below it, which were presently blocked by the bed, had always been hers, while the back half-closet and drawers were her husband's. Mary peered into the dark interior of her closet and felt around briefly, then stepped back to hit the switch to turn on the lights in the small bedroom.

She started to shift her attention to the closet again, but paused as she saw that Bailey had jumped off the opposite side of the bed and stood in the small bathroom, licking—was that a shoulder? Mary squinted and then leaned forward to get a better look at the floor on the opposite side of the bed, her eyes widening as she realized that she was peering at a very large, very naked man lying half in the bedroom and half in the bathroom. His bottom was what was lying in the bathroom and it was his ass, not his shoulder, that Bailey was diligently licking blood off of.

“B
ailey,” Mary breathed, alarm and worry rushing over her as her poor brain tried to sort out how this man had come to be here. He certainly hadn't been there when she'd set out that morning, and there was no way he could have got in while she was driving. The only time she'd left the RV without locking the door was when she'd hit something on the—

Mary stiffened as realization slid over her. This was what she'd hit. She'd run over this man. That was the only thing that made sense. Certainly the blood now covering him suggested he'd been in some sort of accident. But how the hell had he got himself into the RV without her seeing him?

She started to crawl onto the bed, intending to see how she could help him, but immediately paused when he turned his head and opened deep black eyes to stare hard at her. She met his gaze briefly, then backed slowly
off the bed. The man was pale as death, coated with blood from top to bottom and there was even more of it soaking into the carpet and pooling on the tile floor around him, but his eyes seemed almost to glow silver with life and she was suddenly afraid of him.

Mary stared at the man briefly, telling herself that she was not going to be able to help him, that this man needed serious medical care, an ambulance and hospital, surgery and gallons of blood. She spun away, calling out, “I'll get help.”

She tripped back across the littered floor to the door, then paused and glanced back to call, “Bailey!” When the dog didn't immediately appear, she said more sharply, “Come to Mommy, now!”

This time the dog did listen and came bounding out of the bedroom and toward her. Relieved, Mary unlocked and opened the door, then took the steps to the pavement and waited for Bailey to follow before closing the door again. She automatically reached for her keys, intending to lock the door, only to realize they were still in the ignition. Mary briefly considered going in to get them, but then simply turned to Bailey and ordered, “Sit. Stay.”

When Bailey sat next to the stairs and peered at her solemnly, Mary nodded, muttered, “Good girl,” and hurried for the truck stop entrance.

There was a gas station/store on one side and a restaurant took up the other. Mary rushed for the door to the restaurant and burst inside, only to pause and take stock of the situation. She noted with some surprise that there were a good dozen people seated at the
tables, some in groups of two or three, some alone. It was more than she'd expected at that hour and her gaze slid to the clock on the wall to see that it was after eight. It seemed she wasn't the only one traveling at night.

There were also two waitresses: the younger one stood next to a table, apparently taking an order, while the other, an older lady, stood behind a long counter lined with stools. Since the second one was looking her way, Mary hurried to the counter and blurted, “There's a naked man in my RV bedroom.”

Amusement curved the waitress's lips and she said wryly, “Lucky you.”

Mary blinked in confusion and then explained, “No. You don't understand. He's injured.”

“Got a little rowdy, huh?” The waitress teased lightly.

“Rowdy?” Mary echoed with bewilderment and then flushed as understanding struck. The woman thought she was saying he'd been injured during sex or something. Good Lord! “We weren't—lady, I'm sixty-two years old. The boy is young enough to be my son,” she said indignantly.

“Well, double lucky you then,” the waitress said dryly. “But it's not nice to brag about a steak meal in front of a gal who's been on a fast for a decade.”

Mary clucked with exasperation. “I'm not bragging. He's really hurt. There's blood all over the place. He needs help, but my cell phone is broken. I—”

“Call an ambulance, Joan.”

Mary turned sharply at that order and peered at the woman now standing beside her with a man at her back.
They were a young couple, the woman pretty with long brown hair pulled back into a ponytail, while the man had short, fair hair and a solemn expression. Mary had noticed them when she'd entered, but hadn't noticed that they were wearing hospital greens. She did now, and felt relief as the woman smiled at her soothingly.

“Hello, I'm Dr. Jenson and this is my husband, Dr. Jenson. Why don't you take us to your friend and we'll see what we can do until the ambulance gets here.”

“Yes,” Mary said with relief and turned to lead them out of the restaurant, but as she pushed through the door, she explained, “He's not a friend. I don't know him. I just found him in the bedroom of the RV when I stopped here. I think I may have hit him. He's bleeding badly.”

“What did you hit him with?” the man asked, his voice a deep baritone as they crossed the parking lot.

“The RV,” Mary answered, noting with relief that Bailey still sat where she'd left her. The dog was good about obeying orders, but the way things had been going—

“I'm not sure I understand,” the man said slowly. “You found him naked in the bedroom of the RV . . . and then what? Threw him out and ran him over?”

“What?” She glanced back with amazement. “No, of course not. I think I hit him with the RV and while I was out looking to see what I'd hit, he must have crawled into the RV. I didn't find him until I got here.” Pausing at the RV, she opened the door, and hurried inside to lead the way back to the bedroom. She hadn't
really needed to, as everything was compact and a straight shot from front to back. In truth, Mary led the way because she wasn't at all sure the man would still be there. She could hardly believe he'd been there to begin with and half suspected he'd been some kind of hallucination brought on by the stress of the trip or something.

However, when she reached the open door of the small bedroom and moved up against the bed to peer over it, he was still there on the floor on the other side, broad shoulders wedged between the bed and wall, and butt hanging out into the bathroom, bare as the day he'd been born.

“Oh dear.”

Mary glanced around and realized she was blocking the way. Squeezing into the small cubby space between the bed and wall on this side to get out of the way, Mary glanced from the woman to the man on the floor and back before offering, “Maybe I should open the slide-out.”

“It might cause him injury,” the woman said, climbing onto the bed on her knees and starting across the surface to the other side.

“Lisa's right,” the man said solemnly, taking Mary's arm to urge her out of the cramped room. Even with her squeezed to the side, there wasn't room for him to pass. Really, with the slides in, there wasn't room to turn around in this section of the RV.

“Why don't you go watch for the EMTs and let us see what we can do here first,” he suggested gently but firmly as he pulled her back toward the door.

Mary went willingly. In truth, she was happy to go. The sight of the man's twisted body and all that blood was likely to give her nightmares as it was, and she certainly didn't expect he'd survive. She didn't want to bear witness to his death. It was bad enough that she may be the cause of it.

“Send the EMTs in when they get here,” the man instructed quietly as he stopped and leaned past her to open the RV door.

Mary merely nodded and descended the steps to the pavement. She heard the door close behind her and glanced back anxiously, then peered down at Bailey when the dog nosed her hand.

“It'll be all right,” she murmured and gave the dog a pat, but wasn't at all sure that was true. If the man in her bedroom was what she'd hit with the RV, and he died as she feared—that was vehicular homicide, wasn't it? Or did there have to be intent to be homicide? Perhaps it was manslaughter or something. She had no idea, but it was
something
.

It
had
been an accident, she reminded herself. She'd never even
seen
him, but she had been tired and while she hadn't thought she'd been
that
tired, she should have seen him, shouldn't she? The man was buck naked, not wearing dark clothes that would have helped make him harder to see. She
should
have seen him.

The door opened behind her suddenly and Mary turned to peer anxiously at the pretty brunette as she hurried out of the RV. The woman didn't even glance her way, but slammed the RV door closed and rushed toward the restaurant.

Mary stared after her with a frown, then glanced to the RV door, briefly debating going inside to see what was happening. Had he died? Was he—Her head swiveled again at the sound of the restaurant door opening and she watched wide-eyed as the woman led several patrons to the RV, all of them big, brawny-looking men. By Mary's guess, every last one of them was probably a truck driver . . . or a lumberjack.

“Are you moving him?” Mary asked with concern as the doctor led the men over. It was the only explanation she could think of for the presence of so many big men. Although she had no idea how they thought they would all be able to maneuver through the tight RV carrying the man. And where were they going to put him? Did they plan to just bring him out here and lay him on the pavement, or were they going to take him inside the restaurant? That last thought seemed most likely. The lighting in the RV wasn't great right now. She hadn't turned on the generator when she'd stopped, so the only light was the small LED she'd flicked on to look for her purse.

“Wait here and watch for the ambulance,” the brunette said as she opened the door. She gestured for the men to go in ahead of her and then followed, leaving a worried Mary to watch the door close again. The RV rocked slightly as the people inside moved about and Mary bit her lip, wondering how the hell they thought they were going to move the man with so many inside.

She should have put out the slides, Mary thought again unhappily as she peered up the road first one way and then the other, wondering how long it would take
for the ambulance to get there and from which direction it would come.

When the door opened behind her again, Mary glanced around expectantly, but only one of the men came out. Mary stepped out of his way as he descended the steps and pushed the door closed. She expected him to make some sort of explanation then, but the man simply walked away back toward the restaurant at an easy gait, a relaxed smile on his face.

Mary stared after him with amazement. She'd almost think he'd been sent to get towels or something else that might be needed, but if so, surely he should be rushing and looking at least a bit concerned?

She watched him enter the restaurant and saw through the large glass windows that he returned to what she presumed was his table and set about eating again as if nothing had happened. She also saw both waitresses move to his side, curiosity evident in their movements and expressions, but whatever he said must have allayed their concerns, since both women moved away moments later, relaxed and smiling as if at some joke.

Mary was frowning over that when the door opened behind her again and another of the men came out. Like the first he looked relaxed and happy as he descended the steps and closed the door. But this time Mary didn't move out of the way, instead stepping in front of him.

“What's happening? Is he—?”

“He'll be fine,” the tall, gruff voiced fellow assured her. She noted puncture marks on his neck as he sidestepped her to head toward the restaurant, but got dis
tracted by his words when he added, “The blood was more show than damage.”

Mary stared after him with disbelief. The amount of blood she'd seen had been more than show. It had looked like he'd bled out all over her floor. In fact, she hadn't dared looked at his face when she'd led the doctors inside, afraid she'd find herself looking at eyes glazed over with death.

Much to her relief the sound of a siren in the distance distracted her then and Mary turned her head to peer along the road. Spotting the flashing lights, she swallowed and moved forward, ready to flag down the vehicle and wave it over the moment it pulled in. The ambulance was just turning into the lot when movement out of the corner of her eye made Mary glance back toward the RV. Another man had come out of the RV and was returning to the restaurant. Like the others, he looked calm and untroubled, but Mary didn't have time to worry about it, as the ambulance was coming to a halt before her and two men were jumping out.

“Are you the one who called?” the man who had been driving asked as they approached her.

Mary shook her head. “The waitress did for me.”

The driver nodded, his gaze sliding over her. “What seems to be the problem? Chest pains? Problems breathing?”

Mary waved the suggestion away and turned to head back toward the RV, explaining, “No. I'm fine. But I hit someone with the RV and he was badly injured. There are doctors with him now, but—”

Mary paused both in speaking and walking. She'd
glanced over her shoulder to see that she'd lost the EMTs. Both men had rushed back toward the ambulance. She stared after them, relieved when she realized they were just getting their gear. They were quick about it now that they knew the situation and seconds later were wheeling a stretcher toward her with several items stacked on top of it. A strapped spine board was on the bottom, with a neck collar, an orange bag with the medical symbol on it, and a defibrillator on top. The sight of the spine board and collar made her realize the naked man in her RV probably shouldn't have been moved until it was determined that he hadn't broken his neck or back. But she was sure the doctor had seen to that before she'd called the men in from the restaurant to move him to the bed. At least that's what she was assuming they'd been brought out for. She had no idea why they'd left one at a time rather than all together after accomplishing the task.

The EMTs were moving quickly now and Mary had to jog to keep ahead of them.

“Who's the doctor with the victim?” the driver asked suddenly.