Page 67 of Fire Dancer

“I’m so glad. I hope you like my contest entry.”

“I do. We’ll have to wait until the official deadline to declare a winner, but I feel very optimistic.”

Funny how quickly $25,000 had fallen off my radar.

“Well, I’ll keep my fingers crossed,” I said, closing a hand around the lump in my pocket.

And my garlic close by,an inner voice added.

I nearly bolted outside without my jacket, but Jananovich held it out, stopping me.

It took everything I had to turn my back to him and slip into it. The hair on my neck stood, and I swear, a spot on the side of my throat warmed. Was he staring at it?

Time slowed to a crawl. I patted my pants pocket, but the sharpened pencil seemed laughably small now. A dozen doubts filled my mind. Could I whip it out in time to stop him from biting? Was it even big enough to stop a full-grown vampire? Most importantly, did stakes really kill vampires, or was that only urban legend?

Ingo would know all the answers. Why, oh why, hadn’t I believed him earlier?

“There you are,” Jananovich murmured, releasing my jacket.

Stepping away, I forced a smile. “Thank you so much again. I look forward to hearing from you.”

“I’ll look forward to that too, Ms.…”

“Martin,” I stupidly supplied. “Pippa Martin.”

He nodded, reaching into his pocket.

My heart went still, and my hand tightened around the pencil.

He pulled out a business card and held it out. “Let me know if you ever happen to be interested in a little work on the side.”

I took it slowly. Did I have the nerve to ask what kind of work?

No, I did not.

I stuck it in my pocket, thanked him again, and practically dove headfirst into my car.

Victor Jananovich stood still, watching me go.

Closing the door of my little Subaru made me feel a tiny bit better. Closing the circle of the driveway and heading for the exit even more so. I held my breath for the eternity it took the guards to open the gate.

The bear shifter guards. My knuckles went white on the steering wheel.

I imagined Jananovich’s eyes on me the whole time, and the closing scene fromInterview with a Vampirehaunted me all the way back down the mountain. The one where the reporter drives away, believing he’s safe, only to have Tom Cruise lean over from the back seat to bite him.

I gulped and checked over my shoulder at least three times.

No Tom Cruise. No Victor Jananovich. Not even Brad Pitt, who frankly wouldn’t have been an entirely unappealing option.

A moment later, I chastised myself. Just kidding?

The vacant back seat didn’t make me feel better, though. Neither did a last, desperate call I put through to Stacy, hoping against hope that she would answer.

But there was nothing. Not even a voice message.

I raced down the mountain road, and every time I reached a curve, the vials in my bag clinked.

Chapter Sixteen