WILLIAMS REACHES FOR HIS WALLET, SLAPS A twenty on the bar.

He turns on the bar stool and looks me over. "You look well," he says.

Small talk? And out loud? I know he's doing it for Sandra's benefit, to diffuse the tension, but the time for bullshit between us is long past. He's here. If he insists on talking, we will. But what I have to say to him is better said in private.

We have unfinished business.

He eyes flick to Sandra. "Do you mind if we go in back?"

I see the uneasiness in her eyes. I can't read a werewolf's mind and vice versa, but I imagine she's wondering what she'll tell Culebra if we trash the place.

"Don't worry," I say. "We'll play nice."

If we don't, and Culebra did set this up, anything that happens is his responsibility.

Sandra looks from me to Williams and back again and finally jerks her thumb in the direction of the back. Her expression says she 'd rather risk us destroying the place than be alone with me.

A worm of irritation crawls over my skin. First Culebra with his mysterious vacation bullshit, and now Sandra and her revisionist history.

"When I'm done, we'll talk," I tell her.

She doesn't answer.

Williams pays no attention to the friction between Sandra and me. His thoughts reflect bored indifference. He figures I 've alienated yet another acquaintance as I have him. He shakes his head in our direction and hoists himself from the barstool.

My indignation ratchets up another notch, but I follow him to the back.

Williams picks the first room. It's a feeding room so there's a bed and a couple of chairs. He glances around, then shuts the door behind us.

Warren Williams is an old-soul vamp, and the ex-police chief of San Diego. When I first met him, he was a friend of Avery 's, and eventually that led to him becoming an enemy of mine. Time and circumstances altered our relationship from adversary to mentor to meddler. I dislike him intensely. He manipulated the situation that led to my family moving out of the country. I allowed it because I feared what I am might put them in danger, but I haven't forgiven the manipulation.

This is the first time Williams and I have come face -to-face since I learned that he was behind my parent's inheritance-a winery in France. Avery's winery in France.

Williams is watching me, on high alert. He may be bigger than I am and older by about two hundred years, but he 's tasted my wrath before and isn't letting his guard down.

"You shouldn't have interfered with my family," I say.

His expression remains cautious, his thoughts cloaked.

"You had no right."

A tight smile. "That's a matter of opinion."

"Whose? Yours? You continue to operate under the delusion that you know what's best for me. For me. It didn't work before, it's not working now. It's never going to work."

Williams' cool gray eyes don't flicker or look away. "That's only because you continue to operate under the delusion that you can take care of yourself without-"

Whatever he intended to say, he bites it off. "You are changing, Anna. You must feel it. Your power is increasing; your appetites will, too. It's inevitable."

"Once again," I reply, bitterness rising like bile, "you underestimate me. I'm doing just fine on my own. I come here when I need to. I have someone in my life. We're developing a real relationship."

"Lance? He's a model, for Christ's sake," Williams blurts, cutting me off. "He's not strong enough or bright enough to hold your attention past the fifteen minutes it takes to make you come. A big cock-"

The punch catches him square on the mouth. It spins him back and around and he trips on the corner of the bed. He wasn 't expecting the attack but a vampire's reflexes are quick. He recovers his balance, whirls toward me and lunges.

My reflexes are just as quick. I sidestep and he slams into the wall, knocking one of the chairs aside. The plaster crumbles where his fist makes contact.

There's a yelp from outside. "What are you two doing?" Sandra yells.

Neither of us answers. Williams is angry, his mind a tornado of conflicting emotions he 's unable to conceal. He wants to kill me, but he can't. He needs my help and it's eating a hole in his gut. But there's a promise and a warning jumbled in there, too. A promise that when I'm no longer needed, we'll do this dance again.

It's that promise that calms him. His hands are still balled into fists, but his shoulders lose some of their rigidity. He knows I 'm aware of his thoughts and he waits for my reaction.

I have none. The feel of my fist connecting with his jaw gave me tremendous satisfaction. I 'm not afraid of Williams, I'm not afraid to finish this anytime he wants.

I return his stare. What are you doing here?

I have come to warn you.

He says it like he's doing me a favor. After what happened a few minutes ago, it makes me laugh.

This is serious, Anna.

It always is. You weren't surprised when I walked in. You and Culebra set this up?

Williams is massaging his right hand-the one that hit the wall-with his left. I doubt he's aware he's doing it, but it gives me a great deal of pleasure to know he's hurt. When he picks up on that, he drops his hands to his sides.

I asked you if Culebra brought you here?

He kicks one of the chairs away from the wall and drops into it. Culebra doesn't bring me anywhere. I asked him to arrange a meeting with you. I told him it was important. I told him you wouldn't return my calls. Yesterday he called me and said to be here this morning. That you'd show up to see Sandra.

Son of a bitch. But why such an elaborate charade? Why not just tell me to meet him here?

Williams' smile is derisive, mocking, as he reads my reaction. He knows you, Anna. You'd walk in, take one look at me and walk back out. I don't know what's going on between you and Sandra, but obviously he used that to get you here. What did he say?

Don't come? And what did you do? You came anyway. Right on schedule. Right after he asked you to stay away. Jesus, Anna, you are so fucking predictable.

Predictable? If I were so predictable, I'd give in to the anger scorching through the tissue of my control and have Williams' head through the wall. Culebra tricked me. He sent me here to see Williams and made sure he was elsewhere when I found out so I couldn't take it out on him. Did he really leave town? Or is he hiding out somewhere, waiting for me to go back to San Diego?

I don't know whether to feel angry or hurt. Instead, I suck in a breath and let it out slowly before saying, "What is so fucking important?

Oh yeah. I forgot. You came with a warning. Deliver it and get out."

A flash of dark rage sparks the depths of his eyes. For an instant, I read that he doesn't want to tell me-that he would love to let me become the next victim.

Victim? Of what?

His anger still seethes, fighting to surface. He looks down and away, swallowing back his emotions, regaining control. When he looks at me again, his eyes are flat, hard, expressionless.

He says, "Someone is killing vampires."

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