Haven grinned. “Oh those, yeah, we made a few mistakes with them.” He paused. “Want one?”

Cain lifted his hands. “You’ve gotta be kidding me! I’m not going to let those little buggers wreak havoc in my house.”

Haven shrugged and chuckled. “It was worth a try.”

“Maybe the baby will enjoy playing with them.”

Yvette smiled. “Does she have a name yet?”

Cain shook his head. “There was no time. You’re her parents now. You decide.”

“Thank you, Cain.”

He was about to turn toward the door, when Yvette’s voice held him back. “One more question: who suggested that we should raise her?”

“Maya.”

Another sob tore from Yvette’s chest, as she repeated the name. “Maya.”

21

The nearly three-hour ride on the motorcycle seemed to take forever, when it should have gone by in a flash. Eddie had looked up the address and left as soon as the sun had set over the Pacific. He could have taken the blackout SUV and left during daylight, but he needed to feel the wind blow past his body. It gave him a sense of freedom that being cooped up in a car couldn’t provide. Not that it made his thoughts any clearer. They were still as muddled as ever. If not more.

When he’d seen Thomas fight for the life of the pregnant woman and her child, his heart had gone out to him. He’d felt Thomas’s pain physically. Thomas had known her and Sergio, and even though they hadn’t been close friends, Eddie had felt the compassion that had poured from Thomas’s heart. Thomas had felt responsible for what had happened.

The drive home on his motorcycle, with Thomas hugging him from behind, had been pure torture. He’d wanted to lean into him, to let him know that whatever pain Thomas felt, Eddie would comfort him. But when he’d felt the hard outline of Thomas’s erection press against his butt, he’d panicked and raced home as fast as the machine between his legs was capable of. He wanted to be Thomas’s friend, but he couldn’t give him more than that. Thomas had to understand that. There could never be more between them, because the things Eddie felt right now could only be short-lived. Some temporary confusion on his part.

Eddie pulled to a stop in front of a large windowless bunker-like, two-story building. It lay hidden away at the end of a dirt path somewhere east of Sacramento, bordering on the foothills of the Sierras. He switched off the engine and dismounted, ridding himself of the helmet and attaching it to the handlebar.

The building looked uninhabited and dark. Not a single light on the outside drew any attention to it. Looking around to see if anybody else was in the vicinity, yet noticing nobody, Eddie walked toward the entrance door. It was a simple, gray metal door without inscription. As if the only people coming here knew what lay behind these walls.

The door buzzed, and Eddie pulled it open. His visit had been announced, and he was sure there were cameras mounted along the building perimeter for the people inside to be alerted to any guests or intruders.

As he walked along the dark corridor and heard the door snap in behind him, Eddie inhaled.

It smelled clean and sterile, and not musty like he had expected. He reached another door and again a buzzer sounded, allowing him to enter.

He stepped into a brightly lit room and squinted for a moment, allowing his eyes to adjust to the abundance of light. The room was a reception area with a counter and several uncomfortable-looking chairs. Clearly, this place wasn’t built for comfort or luxury. No penitentiary was.

The vampire male behind the counter nodded to him. “Name?”

“Eddie Martens.”

He looked down on the clipboard in front of him and ticked something off. “You’re late.”

“The traffic—”

“Sign in here.” The clerk handed him the clipboard and pointed to a line.

Eddie signed his name then handed the board and the pen back to the curt vampire.

“You’ll have fifteen minutes with the prisoner.” The vampire pointed to a gray door.

Eddie walked to it and opened it. He entered, the door closing behind him with a loud thud.

Surprise made him catapult back against the door. He’d expected to be led down another corridor, but instead he found himself in a bare room with two chairs. One was occupied.

“Eddie!” Luther jumped up, seemingly surprised and pleased at the same time. “They didn’t tell me who my visitor was.”

Eddie lifted his hand, stopping Luther from coming any closer. “Luther.”

He ran his eyes over him. Wearing a gray prison jumpsuit, Luther’s face looked washed out, lifeless. As if he’d lost his will to live. The light that he’d seen flicker in his eyes the moment Eddie had entered, seemed to have faded again.