Phil stood in the driveway, his fists clenched. He dropped to his knees, tilted his head back, and roared. It sounded strange through the buzz in her ears. Intense heat from the fire slapped her back, and she stumbled against the doorframe.
"Mama?"
She slammed the door shut and leaned against it. Black dots flickered before her eyes, and she couldn't think of anything to say.
Bethany skipped toward the front door. "Where's everybody going? Can I go?"
Heather swallowed down a wave of bile and shook her head.
Fidelia entered the showroom, hugging her purse to her chest. Her eyes glimmered with unshed tears. "I was too late?"
Heather's own vision blurred with tears. "It was just like you dreamed. Infierno."
CHAPTER 19
Jean-Luc sat behind the desk in his office, staring into space. Every now and then, Robby strode across his line of vision, but he hardly noticed. The voices in the room droned like an annoying swarm of bees. He must be in shock. He never felt like this during battle. It was always afterward when he went numb.
Robby plunked a bottle of Blissky on his desk and suggested he have a wee dram. Jean-Luc regarded the bottle silently. The mixture of synthetic blood and Scotch whisky wouldn't solve anything. It wouldn't bring Pierre back to life. It wouldn't take away the grief or the guilt.
All the men in the room were agitated, their voices loud, their arms waving. He blinked when Robby's fist slammed onto his desk. The bottle of Blissky jumped.
"How could he forget to check the truck?" Robby yelled. "I thought I trained him better than that."
"I'm sure ye did." Ian took a gulp from his glass of Blissky. "Ye shouldna blame yerself."
"I should have checked it myself." Phil collapsed into a chair and pressed the heel of his palms to his temples. "'I can smell explosives. I should have checked the damned truck."
That pricked the fog in Jean-Luc's head. Phil could smell a bomb?
"Pierre should have known better," Robby muttered as he paced across the room. "Bugger!" He pounded his fist on the desk again. The Blissky teetered close to the edge.
Ian grabbed the bottle and refilled his glass. "Where was the BMW?"
"Alberto had it," Phil explained. "He came back about seven o'clock. He had a date with that model, Sasha, but she stood him up. He was upset, so he went shopping in San Antonio."
Jean-Luc leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. He didn't want to listen to this. He wanted to be with Heather. How was she doing? Did she realize the bomb had been meant for her? Was she battling fear all alone?
As soon as he'd heard the news, he'd tried to see her. He needed to know if she was all right. He needed to see if Bethany was all right. He needed to reassure Heather that they would be protected, that Lui would die for his crime.
Two steps into the kitchen, and he'd been greeted with a Glock pointed at his face. Fidelia had politely asked him to leave. They weren't accepting visitors. He'd only caught a glimpse of Heather, sitting on the couch with her daughter. She'd refused to even look at him.
She blamed him, no doubt. She and her family were in terrible danger because of him. And she was probably angry that he'd shown up three hours after the explosion. In her time of need, he'd been dead to the world. The dreaded feeling of being powerless crept back. It was the worst part of being a vampire, being completely powerless during the day. If Heather needed him then, he would fail her.
He opened his eyes. "How is Heather doing?"
"She kept asking why none of you were there," Phil replied. "I said you were all away on business, but she looked suspicious. She insisted I call the fire department and sheriff. After the fire was put out, the sheriff insisted she go with him, but she refused."
Thank God. Jean-Luc took a deep breath. Hopefully, this meant she still trusted him. Or maybe she was trusting in Fidelia's guns. He stood and moved to the window overlooking the showroom.
"I'm sick of people dying because of me."
"Lui does the killing, no' you," Robby grumbled. "I'll call Pierre's mother and—"
"No," Jean-Luc said. "I'll do it." And he would make sure Pierre's family never lacked for anything. "Why are we here? We should be guarding Heather."
"She's fine," Robby said. "Phineas is watching her. And you know if Lui teleports into the building, he'll trigger an alarm. We would be all over him."
Jean-Luc paced across the room. "We need a plan. We need more guards."
"I've asked for more," Robby assured him. "Unfortunately, Angus is using every spare man in the hunt for Casimir."
"I'm alone now during the day." Phil sat forward and braced his elbows on his knees. "Unless you count Fidelia and her guns."
"I can help with that." Ian retrieved a vial from his sporran. "Roman gave me a bunch of these. 'Tis the formula that keeps a Vamp awake during the day."
Robby moved closer to look at the greenish liquid. "I thought Roman banned that stuff."
"I thought so, too," Jean-Luc said. "For every day he used it, he aged an entire year."
"Aye, he did." Ian lifted his chin. "But I volunteered to test it for him."
Jean-Luc frowned. "I appreciate you wanting to look older, but I don't want you experimenting with yourself."
"I doona need a guardian, Jean-Luc." Ian dropped the vial back into his sporran. "I'm four hundred and eighty years old. I can make a bloody decision for myself."
Jean-Luc sighed. He couldn't forbid Ian's use of this drug, but he still didn't like it. "Were there any side effects?"
"Roman's hair turned gray at the temples, that's all," Ian muttered. "I'm doing it. Ye canna stop me."
"All right." Jean-Luc sat on the corner of his desk. "We have to lock the place down completely."
"I agree." Robby resumed his pacing. "We should always keep them together. They'll be easier to guard that way."
Jean-Luc nodded. "We'll cancel the charity show." He knew that would upset Alberto and Heather, but better safe than sorry. "Lui would definitely make a move then."
Robby stopped. "Perhaps we should let him."
Jean-Luc shook his head. "I don't want to use Heather as bait."
"We'll keep her surrounded and safe," Robby insisted. "Do ye prefer the alternative? That we stay locked up here like a flock of frightened sheep?"
"We'll keep looking for him," Jean-Luc said. "Fidelia figured out he was hiding at the Chicken Ranch. Maybe she can find him again."
"She tried that earlier," Phil said. "Before you guys woke up. She was so upset about Pierre, she swore she would find Lui herself and fill him with bullets. I gave her his sword and cane."
"What did she see?" Jean-Luc asked.
"Nothing." Phil shrugged. "She said he was gone. He was too far away for her to reach."
Jean-Luc paced across the floor, digesting this information. Could Lui really be gone? Was killing the museum curator and Pierre enough to satisfy his need for vengeance? But Lui had threatened Heather and him. In fact, Lui had claimed that Casimir would pay him a small fortune to kill Jean-Luc. "He can't be gone. He's not finished."
"I agree." Robby sat, frowning. "He might retreat for a few days, but only to lull us into a false sense of security."
Jean-Luc nodded. "He'll be back. Just like the message he wrote in blood. He'll meet us at a time of his own choosing."
"We should stay here," Phil suggested. "That would force him to come here."
"And we would be ready for him." Ian's eyes narrowed. "I bet he'll come the night of the runway show."
"We don't even know what he looks like," Jean-Luc reminded them. "And he could use mind control on anyone involved with the show or even attending the show. Anyone there could be an assassin."
"Then we'll limit the attendance to just a few," Ian suggested.