"Fuck," I said for probably the tenth time that night. I went to the cooler, pulled out a bag of blood and drank, putting the rest back in and locking it before calling Merrill. I got his voicemail. I told him as much as I could before hanging up. Right then I wanted to huddle in a corner and feel sorry for myself. If Tony hadn't caught Senator Doofus in the act, I'd be a pile of ash. "Thanks for coming along at the right time," I muttered ungratefully to Tony. "I think I would like to be alone for a little while. Can I borrow a car?"

Tony has such nice gray eyes and they were assessing me and making some sort of decision before he pulled keys to the rental from his pocket and handed them over. "Don't get into trouble," was all he said as I walked out the door.

The cashier at the twenty-four hour grocery looked at me oddly when I purchased nine bunches of cellophane-wrapped roses in different colors, along with several other mixed bouquets. I'd pretty much cleaned out their little cooler of fresh flowers. There was only one sad little bunch of roses left and they looked a little wilted to me. I suppose spending over four hundred dollars at a grocery store for flowers wasn't something that happened every day. The cashier didn't say much, though. She just rang up my flowers and took the cash I handed her.

The trip out to Rose Hill Cemetery came next and I hoped the police wouldn't come by as I scattered flowers over Don's grave. "I really miss you, honey," I said and sat down heavily, the scent of roses thick in every breath I took. I did miss him. He'd been gone a little over fifteen months. He wasn't the handsomest man or the most romantic or the tallest or most well-built, but he'd been mine. Don never hit me, told me he loved me from time to time and was always there when I needed him. He'd worked as an accountant for a hospital; that's how we met. When the man who'd insisted he wasn't my father nearly killed me after he killed my mother, Don had volunteered to come to my hospital room. I'd gotten out of ICU after five weeks so Don talked to me about the insurance a little and suggested I get a lawyer, since my dad was in jail and I needed to settle things over my mother's expenses and everything. He even helped me look through the phone book and dialed the number of the attorney I'd picked out.

Don was a nice man. I know lots of women like the bad boys or the ones that are a little dangerous, but I'd had my fill of both. Don loved me, almost from the beginning when I still had purple bruises and facial fractures. Three months after I got out of the hospital, he called and asked if I'd like to go to dinner with him and I said yes. He was there the whole time I sat through Howard Graham's trial; that was the name listed as my father on my birth certificate, anyway. He'd never gotten out on bond; he had no close relatives willing to post it and I sure as hell wasn't going to do it. Howard Graham never asked to see me and I could still detect the blame in his eyes when he sat on the witness stand, trying to defend himself against the murder and attempted murder charges. If my mother did have an affair, I couldn't fault her. Howard Graham was an awful man, a drunk and a murderer too, when all was said and done.

Howard Graham received life in prison for killing my mother, even though the District Attorney asked for the death penalty. He'd died in prison, too. Not because he got into a fight, or some other prisoner took offense because he'd beaten his wife to death, but from a stroke. I was thirty-seven when I received the call—Howard Graham was in the prison infirmary. The doctor said he wasn't going to last long and asked if I wanted to see him before he passed. I said no. They buried him in the cemetery at the prison because I didn't claim the body. Don stood with me through that, too.

I was weeping before I even realized I was—my amber, blood serum tears dripping onto my hands as I sat beside Don's grave. Is it too much to ask for a private moment ever? My cell phone rang. It was Gavin.

"Hello?" My voice was a little thick when I answered.

"Lissa, where the f**k are you?" He was growling. I choked back a sob.

"I'm at my husband's grave," I tried to sound as normal as I could, wiping tears off my face with a shaking hand. If Gavin had been about to go on a rant, I think the wind had just been taken out of his sails. I found out that Merrill was with Gavin then, because he came on the line.

"Lissa, sweetheart, we're just a little upset that you were nearly killed and your blood supply compromised," he said. "Have they taken steps to ensure that this will not happen again?"

"I hope so," I sniffled. "I didn't want to guard this man to begin with but I was told I had to be professional about it all. He's such a creep, Merrill." I did sob, then.

"So, you decided to visit your husband's grave. Lissa, sometimes we forget that you have that trauma in your background," he sighed. "Is anyone with you?"

I figured I was going to get into trouble when I told them. "No. I wanted to be by myself for a little while."

Gavin was on the phone again. "Lissa, you shouldn't be alone, cara. I know you are capable of taking care of yourself but you are upset and may not be watching properly. Please go back to your hotel soon. I will come with you next time and will watch over you as long as you wish to stay. Your new shipment of blood will arrive tomorrow. I suggest you tell the management at the hotel that the package is to be delivered to you or to Mr. Hancock only." I got the idea he was holding himself back. There was suppressed anger in his voice. Anger aimed not solely at me, perhaps, but with the people who'd placed me in my current circumstances.

"All right." I stood and talked while I walked toward the car. "I'm going back now," I said, closing the door of the car. I'm sure Gavin heard while I fastened my seat belt and started the car, putting it in gear.

"Cara, I am sorry that I cannot protect you at all times as you deserve," Gavin told me as I drove away from the cemetery.

"Honey, none of us have any guarantees," I told him. "No matter how well we're protected sometimes. I love you. I know it's near dawn where you are. Go to bed, Gavin." I ended the call and concentrated on driving.

Tony was asleep when I got back—he'd left the connecting door between our bedrooms open so I checked on him quietly. The desk clerk had compulsion placed now, along with the night manager. I'd told them not to hand over any deliveries addressed to me to anyone except Tony or me. It was entered in the computer already but I wanted to reconfirm. The last thing I did before taking up guard duty was done on a malicious whim. I misted beneath Senator Duff's door and replaced the blood I'd cried out with a little of his. The schmuck had a climax. I was happy to mess up his black silk pajamas though, and licked the bite marks until they disappeared. I'd placed compulsion at the beginning, making him believe it was a dream. I should have instructed him to have a nightmare instead.




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