Withering azaleas in the front yard. No matter how hard her mom tried, those azaleas never did live long enough.
The house was dark. Figured, since it had to be close to 3 A.M. Her heart ached at the sight of the house. She’d grown up there. Broken her arm at the house just across the street when she’d tried to climb that big, damn oak tree.
I wanted to be like Rhett. He’d climbed that tree, zipped up it in about two seconds. She’d wanted to do just what her brother could do. He’d been her hero then.
I’ll find you, Rhett. I’ll stop this nightmare. Somehow.
But first she had to get her parents to safety.
Sabine glanced over her shoulder. Darkness stared back at her. Easing out a careful breath, she looked to her side and asked Ryder, “What if we were followed?”
“Their address is in the phone book. Anyone coming after you already knows where they live. They wouldn’t have to follow us. They could just come up and kill them anytime.”
She flinched. Leave it to Ryder not to bother sugarcoating things for her. She wasn’t even sure if the guy understood the concept of sugarcoating.
Her gaze returned to the house and its dark windows. Be alive. The house was so quiet. She should have come here sooner.
She’d just been afraid to face her parents.
She couldn’t afford fear any longer. Sabine hurried up to the front door. She didn’t bother knocking. The spare key was hidden under the loose brick near the bottom of the front door. She pulled the brick out and grabbed the key. In seconds, the front door was swinging open, and the alarm was beeping. But she punched in the alarm code digits as quickly as she could and—
The lights flooded on. Sabine spun around and saw the long barrel of a shotgun staring back at her.
“Sabine?”
It was her dad. His hair stuck out in a dozen different angles. His old LSU shirt hung faded and loose around him. He blinked, as if stunned to see her. Then he lowered the gun and grabbed her in a hug that stole her breath. He and Rhett had always hugged her too hard.
“I missed you, Dad,” she whispered, holding him just as tightly.
His body shook against hers. “I knew you’d come back home.” So confident, but the words quivered.
Then he pulled back a few inches to stare down at her. His gaze swept over her face, not seeming to miss any detail. She studied him in turn, noticing the new gray in his hair and the lines that appeared deeper on his face.
After a moment, her father glanced over at Ryder. She caught the faint narrowing his eyes. “Vampire, huh?”
The cool response was the last thing she’d expected. “How can you tell?”
“Because I used to be a hunter, of sorts.” He pulled Sabine to his left side. His head cocked as he continued to study Ryder. “Your man there probably doesn’t remember me, but I even went after him once.”
Shock held her immobile. Her father? A hunter?
Ryder stood in front of the closed door. He shrugged as his gaze swept over her father. “I . . . remember your face.” He paused. “You should be grateful that I let you live.”
Ryder knew her father? That was just weird.
Her father lifted the shotgun. Aimed the barrel at Ryder. “And maybe you should be grateful that I let you live.” A hard pause, then, “Now you tell me, was that a mistake, vampire?”
Ryder smiled, showing his sharp fangs. “All along, you knew what she was.”
The ticking of the clock in the den seemed too loud. Sabine’s hand tightened around her dad’s arm. “Where’s Mom?”
“Somewhere safe.” A fast response. Again, not what she’d expected.
Sabine studied her father with new eyes. He’d hunted vampires. Hunted Ryder. But he’d never once mentioned anything about supernaturals to her while she was growing up. Heck, when the vamps had started making headlines, he’d acted as shocked as the rest of their neighbors.
He was an ex-EMT turned college professor. He spent his days digging up archaeology sites and . . .
Digging up vampires?
“Why didn’t you tell her the truth?” Ryder asked, his voice flat and hard. “Why did you let her think she was just like everyone else?”
“My girl is just like everyone else.” Now her dad sounded pissed.
“Rhett thought I was dead.” The words were pushed past her numb lips. “You . . . didn’t, though, did you, Dad?” This wasn’t exactly the homecoming she’d anticipated. She’d thought he’d be shocked, horrified.
Her gaze darted to the mantle. Thick, wooden spears hung over the fireplace. Souvenirs—so she’d always thought—from one of her father’s trips to Africa.
“Yes, love,” Ryder said softly, his gaze following hers, “those have been used to stake vamps.”
She felt as if she were seeing her father—seeing him clearly—for the first time in her life.
“Sometimes, the only good vamp is a vamp with a stake in his heart,” her father muttered, “and, just so you know, I’ve got wooden bullets in this gun.”
Her breath rushed out as she left his side. Sabine took a few stumbling steps forward, and then she turned and placed her body right in front of the shotgun.
“Sabine.” Ryder snarled. He grabbed her arms.
“Don’t you hurt—” her father began.
“Those bullets can kill me, too,” Sabine said, cutting across his words. Her father. She’d thought she knew him so well. But now her gaze darted around the house. What she’d thought were travel mementoes, were they all weapons? Tribal bags from South America and faded silver spears from Guatemala.
How could she be so blind?
“Nothing can kill you, Sabe,” her father said, shaking his head. “Don’t you worry.”
He knew. She swallowed the lump in her throat. “Were you waiting to tell me until the first time I died? When I burned for the first time, were you going to tell me then?”
He slowly lowered the gun. Ryder didn’t wait for the gun barrel to face the floor. He grabbed the gun from her father’s hands and threw the weapon across the room.
Her father blinked his eyes, eyes an exact match to Rhett’s deep stare. “I never wanted you to burn.”
“Too late.” Her stark whisper. “Because Genesis made me burn, over and over again.”
He paled and seemed to age ten years before her eyes. He jerked a shaking hand through his hair. “N-no. They were . . . supposed to help you.”