Danger Calls.

By Caridad Pineiro.

Prologue.

Westchester County, October 2004 T he body twitched convulsively on the floor of the cage before death stilled its movements.

Only two more rats to go and the active cell strain would be gone, leaving just the frozen samples and the journal taken from Dr.

Frederick Danvers's lab nearly a year ago. Not that either had been of much use. The journal contained no instructions on how to prepare the frozen cell samples for use in test subjects. Multiple attempts to activate the preserved strain using standard lab procedures had been dismally unsuccessful. There was little of the precious live sample left. In addition, the journal had not provided any clues as to the origin of the unusual cell strain so that more could be obtained. The project was close to failure.

A nudge with a finger to the dead rat's body-just to make sure, since one had given a rather nasty bite once. A postmortem examination would hopefully yield some knowledge. If it didn't, there was only one way left to secure what was needed to further the experiments. One very unpleasant way.

Unfortunately, such means were sometimes necessary when the possibility of reward was immense. And what greater prize could there be than the promise of immortality?

After all, who wouldn't want to live forever?

Chapter 1.

Westchester County, November 2004 D eath would not be ignored that day.

It was in the bite of the chill wind as it ripped through the bare branches of trees, wailing plaintively. It was in the somber darkness of the clouds as it began to rain, as if they, too, were weeping.

Melissa Danvers stared down at the graves of her parents. A little more than a year ago, the ground had been too hard to bury them. Now a carpet of green, dulled by the frosts of fall, covered the earth where her parents rested. But there was still no peace for Melissa. There were too many things left unsaid and unresolved.She murmured a prayer beneath her breath as the cries of the wind grew in intensity. Melissa almost didn't hear the rain turn into sleet that beat a rat-a-tat-tat against her umbrella as she concentrated on the graves. She wondered what it had been like for them in those last moments before their car left the road and hurtled down the incline. Would they be alive if she had called the police when they hadn't arrived according to schedule? Had they suffered for hours before they were found, or had their deaths been quick?

A particularly forceful gust of wind grabbed at her umbrella. Sleet stung her face and she shivered. A second later, he wrapped a strong arm around her. Looking up, she met the gaze of her family's oldest and dearest friend. Of the man who had been so many things to her-surrogate brother, fairy G.o.dfather, protector. Now, he was all the family she had left.

"You okay?" Ryder Latimer asked as he drew her close.

She leaned into the comfort of his solid presence, which blocked the buffeting winds and provided her stability, much as he had most of her life. "I'm hanging in there. And you?"

Ryder stared down at the ground. Icy rain dripped from the brim of the fedora onto his face, but he seemed not to care. He looked paler than usual and Melissa worried that this outing was taxing his strength. He had yet to fully recover from the injuries he had suffered a few months before while a.s.sisting his FBI agent lover with a criminal investigation. "Are you feeling all right?"

He nodded and, without looking at her again, said, "I should have done more."

"There's nothing either of us could have done," she replied, although her heart was heavy with remorse.

Ryder said nothing else, but she sensed that he shared her guilt. He had turned down an invitation to accompany her parents for a quiet weekend in Vermont. If he'd been driving instead of her father...She stopped herself, unwilling to begin the blame game again. Especially with Ryder, who had always been there for her. She also had to be his support now.

He handed her red roses and she laid one on each grave, pausing to pa.s.s her hand over the wet, spiky gra.s.s. Softly, beneath her breath, she said another goodbye to a mother and father she had never really known.

Ryder also laid a flower on each grave. After he was done, he took her elbow and hurried her to the limo that waited to return them to the Manhattan apartment they shared.

As she neared the car, the driver popped out of his seat and came around to open the door. She struggled with the umbrella for a moment, then slipped inside. A second later, Ryder sat in the seat opposite her and tossed off his hat.

She met his dark gaze, remembering a similar moment on the day her parents had been buried. He had been troubled then, as well. She hadn't understood why until she had opened the envelope brought to the graveside ceremony by her father's attorney.

With vivid recall, that day came alive again as they sat in silence while the limo pulled away.

The envelope had been old, its age apparent from the brittleness and rich yellow color of the heavy parchment. There was a patina on the envelope's surface, as if it had been handled often.

Ryder had clearly known what it held. He'd told her it was her destiny, but nothing could have prepared her for what was contained in the neat, precise words of the letter: a legacy from an ancestor dead for well over a century.

On that day, she'd had to deal with her parents' deaths. But then again, virtually everyone everywhere had to confront death and accept the inevitability that one day, death would come for them, as well.

Only fate sometimes interceded in ways hard to imagine.

On that day, Melissa had been forced to realize that fate had changed not only what she believed about death, but the very nature of her existence. She could no longer just be a physician dedicated to saving lives. Fate had charged her with being the companion and physician to Ryder Latimer, a one-hundred-and-forty-year-old vampire.After the shock of it, she realized every Danvers before her had answered the call. Honor demanded she do no less. Since Ryder had always been there for her, for her family, she had felt compelled to repay him for being her champion.

In the time since then, she'd slowly learned just what her duty to Ryder entailed and how difficult it was. Handling things that couldn't wait until the sun was weak enough for Ryder to emerge. Obtaining the blood necessary for his feedings. Giving him medical a.s.sistance when the sun, garlic or a lack of blood taxed his system.

In the last few months, it had been an even more exacting burden. After his injuries, he'd been too sick to tolerate even the weakest of sunlight, which had made him a virtual prisoner in their apartment. He'd required extra blood and medicine in an effort to help his recovery. His lover, Diana Reyes, had a.s.sisted Melissa on many an occasion, but she lacked the medical skills to deal with Ryder's more complex needs. That was solely up to Melissa and it kept her almost constantly on edge. Both mental and physical exhaustion had become part of her daily routine.

For a brief moment, the burdens of her life had been eased by a chance encounter with Diana's younger brother Sebastian. In just one night, he'd provided her a glimpse into the kind of life she had come to think wasn't possible-one where she wasn't alone.

But one night was all it had been. With daylight, Melissa had been troubled by the idea of sharing the secret of Ryder's existence and the commitment to keep him safe. And by the idea of sharing herself.

Ryder, she thought and looked at him again. He had closed his eyes and seemed to be resting. Although he was normally pale by human standards, his skin seemed almost bloodless today. She worried again that he had pushed himself too hard. As if sensing her prolonged perusal, Ryder opened his eyes and met her gaze.

"I'm okay," he said, and Melissa wondered if mind reading was one of his vampiric abilities. Or did he just know her that well?

"You don't look okay."

"I'm doing fine-"

She cut him off with an angry slash of her hand. "You're not fine. It's been over two months, and you're still weak. I'm worried."

"You shouldn't be. I'm healing slowly, but I am getting better," Ryder insisted.

Melissa couldn't argue that he appeared stronger and was doing more every day. But he still wasn't healthy enough for her taste.

"Your strength and energy levels-"

"I've never been hurt this badly before, except for..." His voice trailed off, broadcasting his reservations.

With a wave of her hand, she urged Ryder to clarify.

He dragged his fingers through his dark hair, his frustration obvious. "Except for when I was first turned. Your great-great- grandfather, William, tended to me until I seemed to get better."

"Seemed to? It's like being pregnant, Ryder. Either you are or-"

"I got toothy," he said harshly and locked his gaze with hers. "I got hungry and I got wild and the fangs emerged. You don't want to know what I was like then."

His hands were clenched tightly by his side. Melissa reached out and grasped one fist. "I know what you were like then, from reading the first journals. But now..." She hesitated, unsure of how to continue without treading on very treacherous ground.

The journals her ancestors had kept could be an amazing source of information regarding Ryder's vampirism. She'd managed to go through about a dozen before one of them had been stolen from her office.

"One of the journals is missing and you're uncomfortable that I've asked you to approach Sebastian for help?" Ryder questioned. "Am I that easy to read?" she wondered aloud.

Ryder chuckled and said, "A big hint, Danvers. Poker is not your game."

Melissa shook her head in amus.e.m.e.nt, then brought up the argument they'd had often since someone had broken into her office a few days ago and stolen one of the Danvers's memoirs. "We can keep the journals safe by ourselves. We don't need to ask anyone else for help."

Ryder shook his head. "No, we can't. At a minimum, we should ask Diana for her advice. As for Sebastian, his skills would be invaluable."

Though she was uneasy about bringing Sebastian back into her life, she knew Ryder was right. Those journals were too important to risk. They needed copies-encrypted, impossible-to-steal copies. Because Melissa was convinced there was information in her ancestor's notes that could help her heal Ryder faster.

Her father had concocted a mix to counteract the effects of too much sun and other poisons on Ryder's system. What was left of the mixture had saved Ryder's life two months ago. And with today's medical advances, she hoped she could make a difference.

Perhaps even find a cure.

Then Ryder might not need her as his constant companion. She could have a life with...Sebastian again came to mind, as he did too often lately.

"I stopped hoping for a cure a long time ago," Ryder said quietly, again reading her thoughts. "I don't want you to have your hopes dashed, as well."

But they've already been destroyed. She suddenly wanted to lash out at him. Ever since she'd discovered her duty, as next in the Danvers line, her hopes and dreams had virtually disappeared. Somehow she'd persevered, creating the illusion of normalcy in much the same way Ryder adopted the semblance of humanity. The sham had worked for a little while. But now there were recent happenings in both their lives that suddenly made her wonder What if?

For starters, Ryder was in love with a human and, from what she could see, the feeling was very mutual. Of course his relationship with Diana hadn't progressed to the living-together stage. The marriage thing seemed out of the question. But what if Diana was here to stay? Would that free Melissa of her duty?

And if it didn't, and Melissa somehow suspected that it didn't, what about her life? What about the possibility of love?

Only, she reminded herself, no one had mentioned love that night, only s.e.x. Which, with Sebastian, had been...She wouldn't call it a mistake, but it had certainly been unplanned. Spontaneous. Well, at least the first time. The second and third...Being a modern, mature, s.e.x and the City kind of girl, she knew that one night with a man did not a romance make. But in the very few and very infrequent free moments since then, she'd wondered whether a second or third or fourth date with Sebastian might change things.

After the craziness of such thoughts, logic would return and she would acknowledge that what had happened that night had been simple transference. Or at least that's what one of her psychiatrist friends would call it. She'd taken the caring shown by Sebastian toward his sister and toward Ryder and transferred it to herself. With her parents' recent deaths and Ryder seriously injured, she'd been vulnerable, starved for affection. It had resulted in a very pleasant interlude.

But that was all it had been or ever could be. In addition to the constraints of being both a doctor and Ryder's companion, she wasn't ready to trust her heart to anyone. She might not ever be ready.

It's not as if she'd learned how to trust-how to love-from her parents. They had been emotionally distant, at best. Her mother had been a physically frail creature, needing most of her husband's attention and having little patience for the inquisitive and energetic child Melissa had been. Her father's time had been taken up by his medical practice. And, of course, as she had learned at his death, by Ryder and his demands.Later, medical school and her residency had curbed what was left of her personal life. Her few encounters during that time had intentionally lacked emotional investment. Since becoming Ryder's companion, her social life had become nonexistent.

Except, of course, for Sebastian.

But if she was ever to have any life at all, Melissa had to take control of things. To have control, she needed more information than what was currently at her disposal.

She wrapped her arms around herself, more than a little uneasy about the path she was about to embark upon. She wasn't someone who normally challenged the status quo, but maybe a year with a vampire-and that one night with Sebastian-had left her feeling a little rebellious. For too long, she had followed without question. Guarded her heart to avoid being rejected. In spite of her protests against seeking help to safeguard the journals, she had no doubt the possibility of a normal life was worth the risk.

Even if that help-that risk-came from Sebastian.

When she spoke, the strength of her conviction was clear. "I'll go to Sebastian tomorrow, but for the other...I'm not asking permission, Ryder. I plan on scouring those journals for any hint of a cure. With or without your help."

"And nothing-"

"Nothing, not even getting toothy, is going to stop me."

Chapter 2.

S ebastian Reyes had a problem. Or rather, his new client had one. They had gotten the SQL Slammer virus because someone in their IT department forgot to shut down Port 1434. He entered the user name and pa.s.sword he had been provided, cleared his client's firewall and remotely accessed their network. With a few keystrokes, he had a patch going to fix the issue.

He grabbed three squeeze stress b.a.l.l.s and pushed away from his desk, where his computer was monitoring the progress. He tossed the first stress ball high into the air, followed it with the others, juggling them to pa.s.s the time while his computer ground away. As he walked around, stress squeezies flying through the air, Sebastian occasionally shot a look at the monitor where a large dialogue box announced how much of the patch was finished.

Not much longer, he realized, pleased his new computer and server setup were working so well. Even though the dotcom bust had finally reached the company for which he had been working, resulting in its bankruptcy, he'd recently sold one of his computer games. And he'd turned the frequent requests from former clients-such as the frantic call regarding the virus-into a consulting business for those who needed their networks operating, and the private things on their systems remaining private. So instead of doing the nine-to-five office routine, he worked out of the apartment he shared with his FBI agent sister, Diana, writing new games and monitoring for performance and security issues. Plus he got to do other fun things, like hacking into the systems of clients and other consultants to make sure everything was in working order. Nonconformist that he was, he loved the hacking best.

All in all, he couldn't complain. At twenty-eight, he was making a decent living with less stress, and he was his own boss. He smiled, tossed the b.a.l.l.s around, then stopped his juggling as he noticed the patch was complete.

Sebastian laid the squeeze b.a.l.l.s on the desktop and ended the remote session just as the doorbell rang.

He opened the door and stopped short.

Melissa Danvers.

Dr. Melissa Danvers, vampire keeper, still looking as stunning today as she had nearly three months ago when she'd first dropped that bombsh.e.l.l on him. He'd thought it a shame someone so very beautiful was a crackpot, until his sister confirmed that Ryder Latimer was a vampire.

"Hi. You're the last thing I expected to see," he said, wondering what she was doing on his doorstep, but pleased nonetheless. She held her Coach purse before her and nervously fingered the straps, looking decidedly prim, proper and uneasy. But that uneasiness couldn't dim her beauty. For months, he'd tried to convince himself his recollections of her had been suspect, colored by the tension and danger of the night they had shared.

They hadn't. Wheat-blond hair framed an oval-shaped face that was cla.s.sically beautiful. From the straight, slightly pug nose to a heart-shape mouth with lips...

Don't think about those lips, he warned himself. Just keep it simple. Meet her gaze directly and firmly and...

Only the blue of her changeling eyes was a stormy gray tonight-the color of trouble. So he shouldn't have been surprised when she said, "I have a problem."

"A problem?" Panic raced through him. There was only one problem he could think of that would bring her to his door. They'd taken precautions when they'd made love that night, but of course, nothing was foolproof. His gut tightened with concern. He was barely capable of taking care of himself, much less a child or a wife. His father would have...

He refused to think about the chastis.e.m.e.nt that would have been sure to come from his father, if he'd still been alive. Sebastian was no longer the hesitant little boy always striving for his Papi's acceptance. He was a grown man, and he knew what he had to do.

He motioned Melissa into the apartment, then closed the door behind her and strove for a totally-in-control kind of voice.

"Wrong. No problema. Whatever you need, Melissa. Are you Catholic?"

A shocked expression crossed her patrician features. "Forthright, aren't you? And no, I'm Episcopalian."

He squared his shoulders and, with what he hoped seemed like bravado, nodded. "I'm a responsible kind of guy. And you're smart. Attractive. And-"