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own. He believes it’s safer to be alone. And he is stubborn, but Russians eat stubborn for breakfast.”
    Talia smiled. “You eat everything for breakfast.”
    “So I do. Now let’s strategize before he comes back home. Where are you staying?”
    “Why do you want to know?” Talia asked, tensing.
    “Because having you in close proximity might help in this case.”
    Talia had been moving from one dive hotel to another, hoping to avoid whoever had searched her room. So far, her things hadn’t been touched again, but she wasn’t sleeping at all. Older vamps might be able to go for long periods without sleep, but she didn’t have that luxury yet. “What do you have in mind?”

Chapter 7

    Forty minutes later, Talia watched the headlights in her rearview mirror as the sedan behind her crowded her bumper. She slowed down to let him pass. Why was everyone in such a damn hurry? She had agreed to Misha’s crazy scheme to move in and had gone to the hotel, collected her things, and checked out. Now, she was on her way back to the BSR’s office, but first she had to deal with the idiot driver behind her who was not taking the hint. She rolled down her window and motioned for the car to pass.
    The driver finally pulled to the left and sped up. The car drove alongside her, but instead of passing, it stayed next to her. Talia glanced over but saw nothing through the vehicle’s tinted windows. Alarms sounded in the back of her brain and she slowed down. Finally, the car picked up speed and rushed past, zooming into the lane in front of her.
    She unclenched her hands from the steering wheel and blew out a hard breath. The driver in front of her slammed on his brakes. Shit! Talia jerked the wheel to the left—into oncoming traffic. A semi barreled toward her, blaring its horn.
    * * *
    Two hours after his cowardly retreat, Jean Luc re-entered the house. Talia was gone, but her residual energy remained, and it bubbled under his skin, heating it. He ignored the sensation and searched for Misha, who was in the living room, pushed back in his recliner, eating pork rinds and watching a show with an orange car being chased by the police.
    Misha glanced up from the TV and the right side of his mouth turned up slightly. “Did you get your errand done?”
    “Yes. When did Talia leave?”
    “About an hour ago, but she should be back here shortly.”
    Jean Luc frowned. “Why?”
    “I invited her to stay. She was going to sleep in her car tonight.”
    “Why?”
    Misha chuckled. “For a male who can speak seven languages, you’d think you could come up with another word. She gave up her hotel room because of the expense.”
    “But Nicholas agreed to pay her.”
    “Not as much as the bounty is worth, my friend.”
    “She cannot take the killer in to collect any bounty.”
    “I agree. So, since she is helping us, I thought the least we could do was offer her a roof over her head.”
    Jean Luc gritted his teeth to keep his fangs from lengthening. “Where is she going to sleep?”
    “The blue room at the top of the stairs.”
    The one next to his bedroom. He glared at Misha, who ignored him, having turned back to his television show and pork rinds. The orange car jumped a ravine while the two police cars behind it crashed into each other. Misha chuckled again and reached for his soda. Jean Luc sighed and marched into the hallway. Why did he feel like he was careening off his carefully developed, safe course? He would control himself. He had to.
    But when the door opened and Talia walked into the house, his careful control cracked. She dragged a duffle behind her. Her scent swamped him, but it was tinged with a sharpness he recognized as fear.
    “Talia. What happened?”
    “Nothing.” She dropped the bag and her hands shook. She jammed them into her pockets.
    He stepped toward her. “What is wrong?”
    She hesitated before speaking. “Someone tried to run me off the road.”
    Blood surged through his veins, and he had to