while her other hand was in her purse, her fingers curled around a can of pepper spray. Because the bottom line here was that she was facing an angry naked guy and that was not a positive in the security department.
A knock at the door at her back startled her. She yanked it open to find a man standing there, flashing a badge of some kind at her.
“That was fast,” she said. She must have pushed the 911 button without realizing it, and they’d used the GPS on her phone to locate her. “Come in.”
“I’m Damon Thornheart. Is there a problem?” he said.
“ He’s the problem.” She turned back to Ronan to find that he’d donned a pair of jeans. That was also fast, but it didn’t change the fact that he didn’t belong in her house. “Get rid of him, please.”
* * *
Ronan McCoy couldn’t believe this was happening to him. He’d spent the past century waiting to come home and now that he had, this woman with the bad attitude and great breasts was getting in his way.
Which was why Ronan welcomed the arrival of fellow vampire Damon Thornheart. Ronan wasn’t sure why he hadn’t been able to compel the woman to leave. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that he’d been an indentured vampire for nearly the past hundred years.
Ronan had been turned on the battlefield in World War I in May of 1918. The trench warfare in northern France had been brutally bloody. Hundreds of thousands had been injured, Ronan among them. But his torture hadn’t ended with his death. It had only begun.
He ruthlessly shut those thoughts down. He refused to let his past dictate his future. His immortal future.
Yes, Baron Voz had sired him, but unlike most vampires, Voz had kept Ronan indentured to him for almost a century, forcing Ronan to do his bidding and his killing.
But Ronan was done with that now. When he’d left Chicago to head off to war in Europe, he’d promised his sister Adele that he’d come back. He was keeping that promise. Their mother had died in a freak boating accident on Lake Michigan in the summer of 1915. Their father, a physician, had died of a heart attack after Ronan was deployed to Europe. Ronan had received the news when he’d arrived in France. He only had his sister left, and her letters had kept him going for the months before his death.
So here he was, home again. The returning warrior. Yeah, right.
“She won’t leave,” Ronan told Damon.
“Damn right, I won’t,” she said. “The house is mine. I have the paperwork to prove it.” She dug in her purse. “No, wait, it’s here. I could have sworn … Yes, here it is.” She handed over the forms. “These prove I am the owner of this property.”
“Of the house, yes, but not the property,” Damon said after looking over the paperwork.
“What do you mean?” she said.
“That you have apparent ownership of the house, but not the land it sits on or is surrounded by.”
“You mean the small front yard and back yard?” she said.
Damon nodded. “That’s right.”
“How is that possible?” she demanded.
Damon shrugged. “You’ll have to take it up with your attorney.”
“He’s just left on a two-week cruise to Antarctica. I can’t contact him while he’s away.”
“Then you’ll have to wait until he comes back.”
“No way,” she said.
“Why not?” Damon said.
“Because the clock starts ticking today.”
“What clock?” Ronan demanded.
“Never mind. You still haven’t said why you’re here. Where is your proof that you have any right to be here?” she asked Ronan.
Her glare at his still-bare chest let him know that she wanted to add, Where is your shirt? Hmm, maybe he could read her mind and get rid of her that way.
Ronan concentrated on Sierra, taking in everything about her from her shoulder-length auburn hair to her green eyes to her great breasts. She had a cute nose and a stubborn chin. She grabbed her documents from Damon’s hands with slim fingers.
Ronan wondered if
A knock at the door at her back startled her. She yanked it open to find a man standing there, flashing a badge of some kind at her.
“That was fast,” she said. She must have pushed the 911 button without realizing it, and they’d used the GPS on her phone to locate her. “Come in.”
“I’m Damon Thornheart. Is there a problem?” he said.
“ He’s the problem.” She turned back to Ronan to find that he’d donned a pair of jeans. That was also fast, but it didn’t change the fact that he didn’t belong in her house. “Get rid of him, please.”
* * *
Ronan McCoy couldn’t believe this was happening to him. He’d spent the past century waiting to come home and now that he had, this woman with the bad attitude and great breasts was getting in his way.
Which was why Ronan welcomed the arrival of fellow vampire Damon Thornheart. Ronan wasn’t sure why he hadn’t been able to compel the woman to leave. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that he’d been an indentured vampire for nearly the past hundred years.
Ronan had been turned on the battlefield in World War I in May of 1918. The trench warfare in northern France had been brutally bloody. Hundreds of thousands had been injured, Ronan among them. But his torture hadn’t ended with his death. It had only begun.
He ruthlessly shut those thoughts down. He refused to let his past dictate his future. His immortal future.
Yes, Baron Voz had sired him, but unlike most vampires, Voz had kept Ronan indentured to him for almost a century, forcing Ronan to do his bidding and his killing.
But Ronan was done with that now. When he’d left Chicago to head off to war in Europe, he’d promised his sister Adele that he’d come back. He was keeping that promise. Their mother had died in a freak boating accident on Lake Michigan in the summer of 1915. Their father, a physician, had died of a heart attack after Ronan was deployed to Europe. Ronan had received the news when he’d arrived in France. He only had his sister left, and her letters had kept him going for the months before his death.
So here he was, home again. The returning warrior. Yeah, right.
“She won’t leave,” Ronan told Damon.
“Damn right, I won’t,” she said. “The house is mine. I have the paperwork to prove it.” She dug in her purse. “No, wait, it’s here. I could have sworn … Yes, here it is.” She handed over the forms. “These prove I am the owner of this property.”
“Of the house, yes, but not the property,” Damon said after looking over the paperwork.
“What do you mean?” she said.
“That you have apparent ownership of the house, but not the land it sits on or is surrounded by.”
“You mean the small front yard and back yard?” she said.
Damon nodded. “That’s right.”
“How is that possible?” she demanded.
Damon shrugged. “You’ll have to take it up with your attorney.”
“He’s just left on a two-week cruise to Antarctica. I can’t contact him while he’s away.”
“Then you’ll have to wait until he comes back.”
“No way,” she said.
“Why not?” Damon said.
“Because the clock starts ticking today.”
“What clock?” Ronan demanded.
“Never mind. You still haven’t said why you’re here. Where is your proof that you have any right to be here?” she asked Ronan.
Her glare at his still-bare chest let him know that she wanted to add, Where is your shirt? Hmm, maybe he could read her mind and get rid of her that way.
Ronan concentrated on Sierra, taking in everything about her from her shoulder-length auburn hair to her green eyes to her great breasts. She had a cute nose and a stubborn chin. She grabbed her documents from Damon’s hands with slim fingers.
Ronan wondered if
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