Chapter 21

Summer sat at Dani's bedside, watching his lungs move steadily up and down while the monitors beeped on the machinery around him. His eyes moved under the lids as he dreamed, and every now and then, his face tensed in a sleepy grimace. The nurse assured Summer that he wasn't in any pain, but the bruises all over his face and arms were impossible to ignore.

The police—or sheriff's deputies, she didn't know who they were—had allowed her into his room once they recognized her from the missing-person report, but they warned her that Dani's family would be coming by and might kick her out.

This is my fault.

If she hadn't wanted to hike the Lost Coast…

If she had pushed harder to camp on the trail with other hikers…

If she hadn't convinced Dani they needed to escape…

Her father stood outside the door, speaking quietly with the officer standing guard, but Summer felt dead inside. Dani was still in a coma, and the bright, warm smile that had made her feel like the center of the universe was gone.

But he's still alive.

She sniffed and blinked back tears, imagining Dani chastising her for crying.

Summer was a realist. She saw the pins sticking out of his knee. She saw the casts and the bandages. Dani's life as he knew it was over. He would probably never play soccer again, and definitely not at the college level. He would need months of physical therapy, and it was very probable that he would blame her for it.

And Summer? She'd survived with hardly anything but a few scrapes, a twisted ankle, and badly blistered feet.

She heard the low murmur of voices outside; then the door opened. She sniffed, wiped her eyes, and turned her head to see a beautiful and elegant woman enter the fluorescent-lit hospital room. From her resemblance to Dani and the pictures Summer remembered from his phone, she knew this was Isabel Delgado, Dani's mother.

The woman examined Summer with a cool expression, her eyes taking everything in, from Summer's tangled curls pulled into a messy bun to the bloodstained hiking boots that were the only footwear she had with her.

She'd borrowed a pair of jeans from Katya, along with a T-shirt and sweater, but this was far from the graceful first impression that Summer had imagined when she'd daydreamed about meeting Dani's parents.

She stood and nearly held out her hand before she remembered she'd been wiping her tears and probably had snot on her hand. She crossed her arms and pressed her hands into fists. "You're Dani's mom, right?"

The woman lifted her chin. She wasn't tall—in fact, she might have been shorter than Summer without heels—but her presence was formidable. "I am."

"I'm Summer." Her voice broke. "We haven't met, but I'm—"

"Yes, you were Daniel's American girlfriend." Mrs. Delgado's accent was precise. "That is over, of course. As soon as he is healthy enough to transfer, Dani will be coming back to Mexico City where he can receive proper medical care and physical rehabilitation from our personal physician."

Summer felt the heat come to her cheeks. "I think whatever Dani and I are is up to us, Mrs. Delgado. When Dani wakes up—"

"When he wakes up" —her voice was acid— "he'll wake up to a crushed knee, a broken ankle, fractured arms and ribs, a dislocated collarbone, and a missing spleen." The corner of her eye twitched. "His football ambitions are ruined, and his long-term health has been compromised because of the criminal elements you dragged him into, Miss Mackenzie. The doctors say it's a miracle he doesn't have brain damage. Your time in Dani's company is over."

Summer's felt a chill run down her spine and recognized it for the Mackenzie rage her father warned her about. "Criminal… elements? You mean the ones I barely escaped from two nights ago? Those criminal elements?"

Mrs. Delgado narrowed her eyes. "So you say. I hear the stories about this place. About the… hippy girls who come here to make money in the drug fields."

Summer stepped toward her, her blood heating. "I'm not a drug dealer. Or a drug worker, Mrs. Delgado. I'm studying forestry at Washington State University, and I've been on the dean's list every semester since I enrolled. I'm going to get a master's degree in environmental management. My father is a high school teacher, and my mother is an award-winning musician. We might not be rich like you, but—"

"Exactly." She lifted her chin. "You are not wealthy. You are not particularly special or beautiful. Your father and mother are entirely ordinary, as is your whole family. Daniel…" She looked at her son, and sheer maternal fury shone through her stiff expression. "Daniel is extraordinary and always has been. He will be going home. Please let him recover in peace and put this painful chapter of life behind him."

Summer felt as if she'd shrunk down to nothing; she was so insignificant in this woman's eyes.

Why are you still here? She looked at Dani, then at his mother. His mother's expression echoed her own thoughts. Who are you, Summer Mackenzie?

You are ordinary.

Your family is ordinary.

You're nothing like Dani and you never will be.

Summer allowed her eyes to linger on Daniel for a few more minutes, knowing it would likely be the last time she ever saw him. His eyes were closed and his skin was washed out. She could see that the slight hollowing under his cheekbones that had started after they were kidnapped was still prominent. It would probably take months to fill in, months for him to regain his physical health. And his mother was right; he would never be the same.

Who are you, Summer Mackenzie? You promised to kill Ivan? Her internal voice had taken on the tone of Daniel's mother. Foolish child. Who do you think you are?

Summer blinked back tears. "I promise I never wanted… this to happen."

"I am sure you did not." Mrs. Delgado took his hand and pressed it between her own. Daniel's pulse jumped for a moment, then settled into an easy rhythm. "Just go, Summer. Let my son focus on healing. Leave him alone and go back to your life, whatever that was." She glanced over her shoulder. "Dani has had many girlfriends; I am sure he will not miss you any more than the others."

Right. Well, she couldn't have made that clearer. Dani probably had a dozen beautiful, parentally approved and proper girlfriends waiting back at home for him. Why did he need a grubby girl in bloody hiking boots hanging around?

She moved toward the door and motioned to her shoulder. "His right shoulder was wounded by the men who took us. It was a knife wound. I stitched it and used yarrow flowers to pull out the infection, but it was still looking a little red the night we tried to escape. Tell the doctors they might need to check it."

Dani's mother stared at her but didn't respond.

Summer nodded, gave one last look at Daniel, and left the room.

Her father was still waiting outside. "Hey. His mother said she wanted to thank you. Acted real polite and all." He tilted her chin up, reading her expression. "How'd that go?"

She couldn't cry anymore, especially not in front of strangers. "Can we go?" She glanced at the officer. "I don't want to give a statement right now."

Jamie Mackenzie waved a hand. "Baojia and Natalie took care of all that when they brought the other kids back. You're good, pumpkin."

"Miss Mackenzie." The officer tipped his hat. "I'm obliged to tell you that County Victim Services is available at any time, day or night."

Summer didn't want to hear it; she was seconds from exploding in tears.

The officer pulled a brochure from his pocket and handed it to Summer. "There's a phone number on there, and I wrote down my wife's phone number. She's one of the counselors over there, okay? It's not a big outfit, but she'd sure be happy to help you—"

"Thanks." She blinked rapidly and stuffed the brochure in her pocket. "Yeah. I appreciate it. Thanks."

Summer heard a door open at the end of the hall, and low Spanish voices began to echo, coming toward them. She tugged on her dad's jacket. "Can we go now?"

Jamie looked over his shoulder. "I think that's Dani's father. You sure you don't want to—"

"We need to go." Summer walked away from the voices even when one called her name. She heard her father following her, the heavy sound of his boots a soothing, familiar rhythm as he walked.

"Miss Mackenzie?" a voice called. "Summer?"

She shook her head. "Don't stop."

Her father's voice was for her ears only. "You sure?"

"Yeah."

The voice rose. "Please, Miss Mackenzie!"

She burst through the exit door and made for the truck.

Who are you, Summer Mackenzie?

What makes you think you're special?

Brigid, Carwyn, and Baojia leaned over the map, all three staring at the circle they'd drawn that encompassed an area stretching nearly up to the California-Oregon border and as far south as Santa Rosa.

"If the farm is at the center of it, and the guy said Ivan traveled one hundred fifty miles on the truck in one night," Baojia said. "I think this is our search area. This is as the crow flies, so it's not this large in reality."

"Doesn't matter," Carwyn said. "We have days to move or Ivan will be gone. He already knows the farm is compromised and his new baby vampire is gone."

"He has a hunt planned." Brigid put a hand on his shoulder. "Or else he wouldn't have turned that girl. He's not going to abandon it now. Those things take time to set up, and he probably needs the money."

"Exactly." Baojia looked at Brigid. "What if I told you I might be able to get an invitation?"

Carwyn looked at Brigid, then at Baojia. "Are you serious?"

"There are criminal elements in San Francisco, and I have moles. Sources." Baojia shrugged. "There are always vampires looking for a thrill, and some of them have a lot of money. That's why he's doing this. But his vulnerability is advertising. Ivan is getting the word out to rich immortals somehow, and I have a feeling that I know who one of his messengers might be."

"Who?" Brigid asked.

Ever the optimist.

Carwyn put an arm around her. "Darling girl, do you think he's going to give up his source that easily?"

The corner of Baojia's mouth turned up. "I'm an ally, not a sucker. The question is, are you willing to go in?"

Carwyn's head swung around. "Say again?"

"Of course," Brigid said. "I have an identity that will work perfectly. It's already established. She's never been to the US before, but that's no great stretch. She's traveled quite widely in Asia."

Carwyn stared at his wife. "Excuse me, have I forgotten the discussion we didn't have about this?"

"Big man." She patted his chest. "Ivan knows Baojia. There's no way he can do it. He's seen you too, and everyone in Ensenada knew about the redheaded vampire priest. He'll spot you in the blink of an eye."

Baojia's face remained impassive. "Brigid is by far the easiest one to camouflage."

"Claire McKee is an established identity," Brigid said. "I've used her for multiple errands. She's in Mary Hamilton's organization in Belfast, and anyone who asks knows that Mary can be… flexible when it comes to her underlings' activities."

"She'll hold up on vetting?" Baojia asked.

"She will. Even up to Mary herself. The identity is a favor to Dublin. I'm going to need a wig though. A good-quality one."

Baojia nodded. "I can take care of that."

"We didn't agree to this!" Carwyn felt his blood begin to surge at the thought of his mate risking her safety and going into a job alone. "You know how these things can be, Brig. Claire McKee is a vapid, thrill-seeking socialite, not a killer. She's a water vampire with very little defensive reputation, and there's no guarantee you'll be able to take additional security into this job like you usually would with Claire."

"I'm fairly sure that will be impossible," Baojia said. "Ivan never allowed any personal security when he was running hunts in the desert. I highly doubt he's changed that."

"Being exposed to danger will be part of the thrill for her." Brigid leaned into the table where the map was spread. "Claire is vapid, but she's also bored and rich—the spoiled daughter of a powerful sire. She's looking for the danger, the exposure, the thrill."

"I absolutely hate this idea," Carwyn said. "I want that noted for the record."

Even if his objection was useless. He could already see Brigid's posture changing, her face settling into cynical lines. He hated to acknowledge it, but his wife was brilliant at undercover operations. She could transform her expressions, her posture, even the way she walked. He had no idea how, but over the past ten years, she had learned to become a chameleon.

He still didn't like it. "Brigid, this vampire—"

"Is lethal as all get out. I promise I know that and I'm not ignoring the risk." Brigid stood on her tiptoes and pulled Carwyn's head down for a kiss. "But I also know that Claire McKee and Brigid Connor have an advantage that Ivan will never see coming."

"The fact that you can incinerate him with a snap of your fingers?"

"We're trying to avoid that scenario, remember? Forest fires?"

Carwyn glared at Baojia, who was standing to the side, pretending as if he hadn't suggested this entire scenario.

"Hey." She pinched his ear. "Listen to me. Claire and Brigid have a husband who can track her through their mating bond. Ivan will never expect that. All you'll have to do is keep me within a reasonable distance and you, Baojia, and his people can rain down hell on any bastards taking part in this abomination."

Carwyn pretended to pout. "Raining down hell on evil vampires does sound like fun."

"See?" She looked at Baojia. "Call your source and wrangle me an invitation. Claire McKee, Belfast. I promise she'll check out."

"You got it." He started toward the door, then paused. "I'm going to mention one thing; then we're going to pretend this part of the conversation never happened."

Carwyn frowned. "What's that?"

Baojia cleared his throat. "This whole setup could happen fairly quickly. I don't know Ivan's timeline, but you're going to want to make sure that mating bond is… fresh."

Brigid pursed her lips and tried not to smile. "Right. Excellent advice. And… we never had this conversation."

Carwyn frowned. "What do you mean… Oh!" He grinned. "Fresh." He reached down and hoisted Brigid over his shoulder, rushing past Baojia as he headed toward their room. "So sorry. We're professionally obligated to go have lots of bitey sex the rest of the night."

"Oh no." Brigid protested with a laugh. "The sacrifices we make for the sake of justice."

"I know it's daunting." He reached their bedroom door in seconds and kicked it closed behind him before he threw her on the bed. "But we're professionals, darling. We do what we must."