"Four bags of medicine?" Jet asked with bewilderment. "What kind of medicine comes in bags?"
"They put the pills in sealed bags here to keep the moisture from them," Abigail lied, quite impressed that she'd thought so quickly.
"Oh," Jet muttered, seeming to accept the explanation.
"Maybe we should go back to the villa so you can take your medicine," Mary suggested. "It will only take a minute, and it's better than taking the risk."
"Mary's right," Jet agreed. "You wouldn't want a relapse of dengue."
Abigail frowned. It wasn't dengue Mary was worried about. She was afraid she'd suddenly sprout her fangs and might bite someone. Probably Jet, Abigail acknowledged. He smelled oddly good to her again, and he hadn't when she'd first found him in the kitchen.
Throwing her hands up in defeat, Abigail turned and started back the way they'd come. She was pretty irritated by the need to do so though. This immortal business was turning out to be a bit of a pain in the butt without much in the way of benefits so far, she thought crankily and then almost smiled at the stupidity of that thought. One of the benefits was being alive, and that was one hell of a benefit.
"Come on, cheer up," Jet said coaxingly after a moment. "It's just a little delay."
"Yeah, yeah," Abigail said and managed a smile. She was only cranky because she was hungry and the blood would probably help ease that a bit anyway.
"Miss Forsythe?"
Pausing at the end of the commercial area, Abigail glanced around with confusion and stiffened as she was nearly run down by two men who had been walking behind them. However, the men quickly stepped to the sides to move around their group, saving them all an awkward moment.
"It is you!"
Abigail shifted her gaze to the rotund little man bustling across the lane toward them. She had no idea who he was, but he did look vaguely familiar, she thought, as she watched him hurry their way.
"You cannot know how happy I was that your friend was able to get you to a hospital during the storm." Reaching her, the mustachioed man caught one of her hands in both of his and squeezed enthusiastically. "When I left that night, I felt sure my next call back would be to pronounce you dead. But no! He found a jeep and got you to help despite the storm! And they were able to treat you! Now look at you!" he added with a wide smile. "Out and about and enjoying the sunshine."
"Dr. Cortez!" Abigail blurted suddenly as his name came to her. It was the doctor Tomasso had called in. The one who had told him to pray and say his good-byes. Obviously he'd seen the man since then and convinced him that he'd been able to save her. But then, what else could he do? Tell him he'd turned her into a vampire?
"Si! Si! You remember me!" Cortez said happily, regaining her attention. Clucking his tongue he confided, "I was not sure you would. The fever had you in its grip each time I saw you, though you did have a lucid moment or two." He shook his head. "Dengue fever is nothing to trifle with, but few have it turn into dengue hemorrhagic fever and suffer as you did. I am really most pleased to see you well and able to enjoy the end of your vacation."
"Oh, yes." Abigail smiled. "Thank you. That's very kind of you to say."
"Not at all," he assured her, then squeezed her hand. "Now you have fun. But stay away from mosquitoes," he added firmly, giving her hand a shake with both of his on each word. "You are now immune to one of the dengue viruses, but there are three more that you will not be immune to, and it is always worse the second time around."
"Oh dear," Abigail said weakly, wondering how it could possibly be worse than what she'd suffered. It made her glad Tomasso had turned her and she needn't fear things like that anymore.
"I shall let you go now," Cortez said abruptly, releasing her hand. "I am on my way to see a patient. Have a lovely day!"
"Yes. Thank you. You too," Abigail called as he bustled off as quickly as he'd appeared.
"What a nice man," Mary said as they turned to start into the mini jungle between the commercial area and the villa.
"He seems to be. I don't remember much about when I was sick, but I do remember his worried face bending over me. I thought that expression might be a really bad sign," Abigail said wryly.
"Yeah, it's always a bad sign when the doc looks worried," Jet agreed, his voice solemn.
"Hmm," Abigail murmured, and then glanced to Jet with surprise when he stumbled beside her and started to fall. She managed to catch his arm, but he still would have hit the ground if Mary hadn't caught his other arm. "Jet? Are you--?"
"He's fine. Or will be."
Abigail glanced over Jet's shoulders to see two men standing close behind Jet, one with a gun in his hand.
Fifteen
Tomasso woke to the sound of his brother's laughter. Opening his eyes, he spotted Dante standing next to the bed staring down at him and laughing his ass off. Tomasso glanced down at himself to see what was so funny. He was slumped up against the headboard, fully clothed, but with his pants undone and his penis lying exhausted in his lap. It and a six-or eight-inch-wide swath of material across his lap where Abigail had straddled him were the only things on the bed not covered in dried blood.
"What the hell happened?" he muttered, sitting up.
"That should be obvious," Dante said with amusement. "You tried to make love to Abigail as she was feeding and . . ." He gestured to Tomasso's bloodless groin with a grin. "The bag must have burst at the end."
Peering at the mess, Tomasso nodded. That made sense.
"You need a shower," Dante pointed out. "And clean clothes. I will fetch them."
Sighing, Tomasso sat up and got to his feet, just managing to catch his pants as they tried to slide off. Ignoring Dante's renewed laughter from where he stood in front of the closet, he made his way to the bathroom with as much dignity as he could muster under those circumstances.
"Are you not going to ask why I am here?" Dante queried with amusement, carrying clean clothes into the bathroom just as Tomasso turned the shower on.
"Why are you here?" Tomasso asked dutifully, and then added what he really wanted to know. "And where is Abigail?"
"She, Mary, and Jet are down at the restaurant waiting for us," Dante answered as he set the clothes on the counter by the sinks. "I came back to get you, Justin, and Lucian for breakfast. The girls are hungry."
Tomasso grunted at that, and then let his pants drop and quickly stripped off his shirt. "I will be quick."
"No you will not," Dante predicted, heading for the door. "But we will wait."
Tomasso merely grunted and stepped into the shower. He heard the bathroom door close a heartbeat later.
Abigail peered over the two men slowly. She thought they were the same men who had nearly run into them when they'd stopped at Dr. Cortez's call. She couldn't be positive, though. She hadn't really paid attention to their faces, but they appeared to be wearing the same color clothes those two men had been wearing. She remembered a white T-shirt on one side and a red jacket or something passing on the other as a sort of distracted blur.
"Bring your friend and follow Sully here, ladies. I'll bring up the rear," the man in the white T-shirt added, waggling his gun.
Abigail stiffened. Sully was one of the names of Tomasso's kidnappers. Sadly she hadn't seen either man up close that day in San Antonio when they'd arrived with their cargo of a caged Tomasso. Actually, she hadn't caught more than a glimpse of them at a distance, and she'd been too busy hunching down behind the cage, praying she wouldn't be found, to take a look.
"Hurry up," the gun holder, who had to be Jake, snapped.
Abigail glanced to Mary, and almost sighed when she saw her grim expression. Immortals might be able to read minds and control people, but Mary hadn't been immortal more than a couple days longer than she herself had been. Mary hadn't learned that stuff either.
"Come on, turn him around and start marching. And don't try anything funny, I'll be right behind you with the gun. If you make Sully do anything weird, I'll shoot the three of you."
"Why don't we leave the guy here?" Sully muttered as Mary and Abigail struggled to turn Jet around. "I saw his eyes. He's not a vamp and he'll just slow us down . . . And the dark-haired girl too. You heard the doc, she had dengue. These vamps don't get sick. She can't be one either."
"Because if we leave them behind they'll call for help and describe us, and if we kill 'em so they can't call for help and describe us, it'll cause a firestorm. Two Americans murdered in the middle of the day at a luxury resort? Shit, they'd shut everything down and start a manhunt."
"How do you know they're Americans?" Sully muttered.
"'Cause they speak English without a British accent," Jake said patiently.
"Could be Canadian or something. Maybe German. I've met a lot of Germans who speak English."
"Shut up, Sully. We're not killing them. Yet," Jake growled.
Abigail had taken the opportunity the men's brief distraction had caused, and glanced quickly around. They were only a dozen feet up the lane lined with trees that she referred to as the mini jungle. They could be seen from the commercial area if anyone was bothering to look. Unfortunately, no one was. People were all rushing to the breakfast restaurant, eager to get a table.
"Listen, Blondie," Jake snapped suddenly, and Abigail glanced over her shoulder to see that Sully had the gun pressed against Mary's side. "I know you're immortal and stronger than that. You could hump this guy over your shoulder and carry him alone without breaking a sweat. So stop pissing around and take most of his weight so your cute little human friend there isn't struggling so much."
Abigail opened her mouth to snap at the man to leave Mary alone, but paused when the other woman caught her eye and gave an infinitesimal shake of the head. Biting the inside of her mouth, Abigail turned her face forward and simply hefted Jet a little higher and began to move.
The truth was, Jet wasn't heavy to her, and probably not to Mary either. It was that "increased strength of an immortal" business, she supposed. However, Jet was limp, and trying to move him was like trying to make a sock full of marbles stand straight.
Mouth tightening, Abigail paused and drew Jet's arm over her shoulder, waited for Mary to do the same, and then started forward again. Sully immediately turned to lead the way, but other than following him as he led them into the trees, Abigail gave Sully little thought. Her concern was Jake and his gun. She was very aware of that man following close behind them.
Abigail was also aware that while they couldn't do anything just then, they might actually have an advantage that could soon come in handy. These men didn't think she was an immortal. Overhearing the talk with Doctor Cortez had convinced them she wasn't. That might be useful. At least, she hoped it would. Although, she'd have to make sure they didn't see her eyes without the sunglasses on. Thank you, Jet, for the sunglasses, she thought, recalling Sully saying he'd seen Jet's eyes and he wasn't an immortal.
These men obviously knew about the silver flecks and recognized immortals by it. She definitely had to keep the sunglasses on.
"Get in."
Abigail shifted her attention to the van Sully had stopped beside. They were on a dirt laneway on the other side of the trees. She glanced around, but there was no help here. Sighing inwardly, she glanced to Mary and the two of them dragged Jet to the van. Mary stepped up into the van before Abigail could and met her gaze briefly before she caught Jet under the arms and dragged him in. The message had been clear: don't do anything to give away that you're an immortal. Act weak and defenseless.
"You too," Jake said, nudging her with the gun. He didn't nudge very hard though, and his voice wasn't as mean as it was when he addressed Mary. Abigail was beginning to think the man didn't like immortals, and wondered how she could use that--combined with his belief that she wasn't one--to her advantage.
For now, though, she just stepped up into the van. Mary was sitting in the back with Jet lying in front of her. Abigail settled beside her and then glanced to the van's open side door. She was just in time to see Jake fill the opening, raise his gun, and shoot. Gasping, she closed her eyes, expecting pain to rip through her. When that didn't happen and she heard a grunt next to her and felt Mary sag against her arm, Abigail blinked her eyes open and turned to her with alarm. Her worry eased a bit when she saw the dart sticking out of her chest, but she still reached for it.
"Leave it," Jake said quietly as he stepped up into the back of the truck with them. He settled himself on the floor just inside the door, and then nodded. Sully immediately slid the door closed. It shut out a lot of the light, but not all of it. Still it was enough that Abigail worried that the silver flecks in her eyes might glow through the sunglass lenses, so she closed her eyes but kept her head up, hoping Jake would think they were still open. She heard a door open at the front, the van dipped a bit, then the engine started. The floor vibrated with the engine's hum for a minute and then they were moving.
As Dante had predicted, Tomasso spent longer in the shower than he'd hoped to remove the dry, crusted blood. While last night had been amazing, and it always was with Abigail, cleaning off the aftereffects of last night was not.
Deciding he would never mix feeding and sex again, Tomasso stepped out of the shower and grabbed a towel to dry off. However, memories of the night before assailed him as he rubbed the towel over his body, and by the time he was tossing the damp cloth aside, Tomasso was thinking perhaps they would only do it once in a while. The challenge of trying to hold off and remain conscious until the bags had emptied had been part of the fun.
Smiling to himself, Tomasso dressed quickly in the jeans and T-shirt Dante had set out for him. He then cleaned his teeth, and ran a brush through his hair, briefly debating whether to put it back in a ponytail or not. It was cooler with his hair off his neck, but it left that sensitive skin exposed to the sun. In the end, he decided to leave it down for the same reason that he was wearing jeans rather than shorts. The less skin that was exposed to the sun's rays the better. It meant he needed to consume less blood.
Tossing the hairbrush on the counter, he headed out to join the others.
"Hurry, man. The car is here," Justin chivvied the minute Tomasso appeared in the living/dining area, and then explained, "I called as soon as I heard the shower turn off. They were a little quicker than I expected."
Tomasso merely grunted at that and grabbed his shoes on the way out the door. He wasn't surprised that Justin had called the car. All of them could have easily managed the walk, although the women might have had a little difficulty were they here. The road was uneven with pebbles everywhere and made walking in their strappy sandals a bit difficult. Still, the car was mostly a way to avoid as much sunlight as possible. A way to reduce the amount of blood they would need to consume.
The ride to the main section of the resort was quick. Tomasso followed Dante quickly out of the vehicle and straight into the restaurant, moving abreast of him when he paused to look over the room in search of their women and Jet.
"I do not see them," Dante muttered after a moment.
"Neither do I," Tomasso admitted, concern beginning to churn in his belly.
"They are probably still shopping," Lucian said with a shrug.
"No doubt," Justin said with amusement. "You know women and shopping. They probably spotted a pretty dress in a window on the way here and . . ." He shrugged as if the result should be obvious.
"I'll go check," Dante said, turning away. "You guys grab a table before they are all taken."
Tomasso hesitated. He'd really rather go with Dante to find the women as well. He hadn't seen Abigail yet this morning and wanted to. And it wasn't just because he knew the kidnappers could still be around somewhere looking for him and any other immortals they could get their hands on. He missed Abigail when she wasn't there. Tomasso knew that would probably ease in time, but he didn't think it ever would completely. He enjoyed spending time with her, and quite simply missed her when she wasn't there.
"Dante will bring them back," Lucian said.
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Tomasso glanced to him. He wasn't surprised to find that--rather than wait for a response--Lucian had already moved off through the crowded tables toward one that was unoccupied and large enough for them all.
Rather than follow, Tomasso made his way to a table where coffee, tea, water, and various juices were set up. He made coffee for himself and one for Abigail, and then--not sure which kind of juice Abigail would prefer--he selected a handful of different ones and then glanced around for a tray.
Justin was seated alone at the table when Tomasso got there. Setting down his tray, he glanced toward the door as he claimed a chair, wondering what was taking Dante and the women so long.
"Now that you're here I'm going to go get some food," Justin announced, getting up. "Lucian should be right back."
Tomasso nodded, but continued to watch the entrance.
"Still no sign?" Lucian asked a moment later as he returned with a plate piled high with food.
Tomasso shook his head and tried to relax in his seat. But his gaze kept moving back to the door.
"We are leaving today."
That announcement from Lucian did manage to tear his gaze from the door. Glancing to the man, he asked, "Caracas?"
Lucian took a bite of bacon and nodded as he chewed.
"What time are we leaving?" Tomasso asked.
Lucian took a sip of coffee and swallowed before saying, "The plane should get here sometime this afternoon. That gives you and Dante several hours to decide if you wish to accompany us."
Tomasso's eyebrows rose. "You do not want us there?"
"Yes, I do," he assured him. "We might need your assistance. But your women would no doubt have to accompany you. They cannot be left on their own without training," he pointed out. "But I understand if you and your brother are reluctant to bring Abigail and Mary along and expose them to the danger in Caracas. So, the choice is yours." He turned his attention to scooping up more food on his fork as he added, "Fortunately, the delay caused by our stopping here has allowed several of our teams to get to Caracas ahead of me. Hopefully, we have enough men to manage the task of finding and stopping this Doctor Dressler without you."