Frowning, Della shot up from the chair and left. She stopped about fifty feet from the porch, holding her breath and not moving a muscle. Hoping Burnett wasn't still listening, she tuned her own vampire hearing and waited to discover what the hell was up. The afternoon sun spilled over the trees, casting shadows on the ground as she stood frozen in one spot.

"I'm trusting you to keep Della safe," Burnett said.

Della inwardly growled at Burnett's chauvinistic approach and fought the need to rush back in there and give him some lip. I'm the one who's gonna have to protect his butt!

"I do not believe this is the gang we're looking for." Burnett's voice carried well. "Or I wouldn't be sending you two. This is just a clearance check. But that doesn't mean this group isn't dangerous."

"Don't worry," Steve's deep voice answered. "I'll keep her in my sight at all times."

Like hell you will. She already had a plan of doing a little side trip, and she didn't need Steve tagging along.

* * *

At six that evening they arrived at the cabin the FRU had rented them right outside the vampire compound. To call the place a dump would have been like calling one of those roach-coach vans fine dining.

Of course, she and Steve were supposed to look like a couple of supernatural teen runaways. She supposed it would have looked suspicious if they'd rented anything with even part of a star attached to its reputation. But damn, this was supposed to have been a fun trip.

She wasn't a prima donna, but sleeping on a mattress that was more dust mites than filling, with sheets that looked as if they hadn't been changed in a year or so wasn't her idea of fun. The bed's covers were half on and half off the mattress, and the pillow sported an indented greasy spot in the center as if someone with not-so-clean hair had slept there.

Or maybe died there.

As disgusting as that thought was, one even worse hit. Someone had probably done the humpty dance on that bed.

Yuck.

She could probably get a disease sleeping on it.

Walking back into the tiny living area, she found Steve staring at the sofa with about as much distaste as she had while gaping at the bed.

"Come to think about it, I'll take the sofa," she said. "And I don't want to hear any shit. There ain't no one going to get past me."

They had flown here. Not on a jet. Him as a Peregrine falcon-which meant he was fast-and her as a, well, a vampire-which meant she was faster. Vamps and shape-shifters being the only two species who could really fly. Well, an occasional witch, but Miranda, her Wiccan roommate, swore they really didn't travel around on brooms.

However, Steve and Della's mode of transportation also meant they really hadn't spoken since they'd left Shadow Falls, with the exception of when they'd first walked into the cabin and he'd insisted she take the bed. And why? Because if someone came through the door he would stop them.

That downright pissed her off. She almost called him on being a complete chauvinistic pig, but then realized that if she wanted to sneak out later, she wouldn't want him traipsing into the living room before morning and finding her gone.

Since he came across as the type with manners, and morals and stuff, who wouldn't come into a girl's bedroom-at least not without an invitation-she'd kept her mouth shut.

Face it, she'd take the odds of him finding her gone to the odds of those mattress germs finding her body, hands down.

Steve cut his soft brown eyes to her and a knowing smile spread his lips. He ran a hand through his brown hair, which he wore a tad longer than most guys. The strands fell right back into place, looking instantly styled. She doubted he went to some professional salon to get that look, but it almost appeared like he did.

His smile widened and he tucked one hand into his jeans pocket. The stance made the muscles in that arm bulge. "So what you're saying is that the bed is worse than the sofa?"

"I didn't say that." She tried not to laugh, but something close to it slipped out of her mouth. She tried not to stare at his crooked smile and what it did to his lips and eyes. Or how his muscled arms looked like a safe place to fall. She'd give anything, even half a bra size to make him ... ugly. And unlike her two roommates at Shadow Falls, she didn't have much bra size to offer.

She continued to stare at him. She could have dealt with an ugly guy much better than one who looked like he'd just walked off of some men's soap advertisement. And hell, she thought, breathing in his aroma, you'd think after spending the last two hours as a bird, he wouldn't smell like he used some spicy-smelling men's soap, but he did.

He smelled ... awesome, and that ticked her off, too.

If she were a witch like her bigger-boobed roommate, Miranda, she'd change him into a repulsive fowl/foul-smelling guy. And she'd also make him less ... nice. She didn't like nice.

The only nice person Della had grown fond of was Kylie. And she was so nice, even Della couldn't hate her. Well, right now, Della did hate her. Hated her for leaving. And if she didn't get her butt back to Shadow Falls soon, Della was going to drag her friend back kicking and screaming. Sure, Kylie had gone to meet her newly discovered grandfather and learn more about her species, but plain and simple, she belonged at Shadow Falls. Someone had to keep Della and Miranda from killing each other. And no one was better at that than Kylie.

"We could both sleep on the sofa," Steve said, and damn if he didn't sound serious.

"Not even in your dreams, bird boy!" she snapped.