Runaway Vampire by Lynsay Sands

course, none of them showed a view of the roof of the RV. Fortunately, none of them showed a naked-ass man rolling away from the RV after tumbling from the roof either, she thought and tossed a scowl toward the colorful afghan that was now pooled on the floor in front of the passenger seat.
    â€œDown Bailey,” she ordered firmly when the dog jumped up onto the seat to peer curiously out the window after their absent guest. The dog jumped down at once to sit on the afghan and Mary shook her head, thinking with irritation that she really should have made him put on some damned clothes. He was obviously crazy and incapable of looking after himself. Why hadn’t she insisted he go to the bedroom and get some of her husband’s clothes and put them on, she asked herself grimly. But knew the answer was that she’d been reluctant to see anyone in her Joe’s clothes. She hadn’t even been ready to remove them from the RV and give them to charity, as she should have. It had been a year, and she still hadn’t removed a single item of his from either their home or the RV. She’d clung on to them as if keeping them meant he wasn’t really gone and that he would walk through the door one day with hugs and kisses and flowers.
    Her gaze lifted to the ceiling of the RV as the sounds of movement overhead reached her ears. Dante was moving along the roof of the RV. Dear God, she had a naked-ass man on her roof! That thought kept screaming through her head as her gaze continually shot from road, to mirror, to mirror, to camera screen, but it went suddenly silent when she spotted the lights of the gas station ahead.

Five
    â€œD amn,” Mary breathed, knowing there was nothing else but for her to pull into the damned station. She couldn’t afford not to unless she wanted to be stuck on the side of the highway, as helpless as Jonah in—what in this case would be—a beached whale. So she had to stop, and with a naked-ass man on her roof.
    Mary muttered under her breath and slowed the RV to turn in. She was more than relieved when she saw that there were presently no other vehicles in the station. She would only have a shocked and probably hysterical attendant to deal with then, she thought with a grimace.
    â€œMy apologies, Mary. You will have to pump the gas. I must remain up here to watch for our hunters so that I may control them if they pull in after us.”
    Mary rolled her eyes as that announcement floated through her open window. Not because she had topump gas. She’d pumped her own gas all the way south and had intended to all the way back. What caused the eye rolling was his claim that he had to control their hunters. Really? Did he believe he could? Or that she’d believe he could? Dante was pretty but crazy and that was just sad, she decided, maneuvering the RV as close to the pumps as she could get. It seemed a terrible shame that God had made such a perfect specimen and forgotten to ensure his brain worked properly as well.
    â€œDear God, I have a naked-ass man on my roof,” Mary muttered the thought aloud this time as she put the RV in park and turned it off. Saying it aloud did not help. Shaking her head, she slid out of her seat and moved to the door. Bailey immediately tried to follow, but Mary gave her a firm, “Stay,” and managed to slide out without the dog escaping.
    Closing the door with a firm snap, she glanced toward the gas station, expecting to see the attendant either plastered to the plate glass window, gaping like a fish out of water, or on the phone to the police. But the young man inside the building was looking down at something on the counter and didn’t seem to have even noticed their arrival.
    Grateful for small mercies, Mary walked hopefully to the pump, but of course it was prepay. The pumps were prepay in Canada too. You either paid at the pump with a credit or debit card, or you prepaid. At home she would have just used her