THE PERFECT TEN (Boxed Set)

latest in low-observable technology.”
    Dear Jesus, stealth technology? Wasn’t that restricted to military use? “This is a stealth helicopter? We’re invisible?”
    “Nothing is invisible, especially to the naked eye. But the craft is designed to minimize its radar signature and hide its heat signature. Once we’re away, we’ll be very hard to track.”
    “Yeah? Well, it’s the getting away part that has me concerned right now. They’ll be able to see us, won’t they? And hear us?”
    “Not to worry. I left them a little something to keep them preoccupied.”
    “Clear,” came Eli’s voice in her ear.
    She glanced out the window to see the lights of the city on the horizon, a scant three miles away. They were indeed clear of the cavern.
    “Time to give our visitors their present.”
    On cue, a spectacular explosion erupted perhaps a thousand yards away, tearing the west-facing, ivy-covered stone wall right out of Delano’s house. Flames leapt high into the air. In the orange illumination provided by the fire, debris drifted gracefully to the ground.
    Ainsley gasped, recognizing the corner of the house that had just been destroyed. “Your lab! Del, they blew up your lab!”
    “No, they didn’t. I did.”
    Just then, Eli nailed the accelerator, or whatever the equivalent of an accelerator was in a big-assed stealth helicopter, and they screamed off. In what seemed like a matter of seconds, they were racing along at what felt like an altitude of mere inches above the surface of the glittering river that bisected St. Cloud.
    He’d blown up his own lab? “Delano Bowen, you’ve got some explaining to do.”
    “More than you know. But I’m afraid it’s going to have to wait.”
    “No!” Her voice rose on a note of hysteria, which she clamped down on immediately. She hadn’t done all those years in as an OR nurse in a major trauma center for nothing. “You’re not putting this off,” she said, and this time her tone was calm, authoritative. “I want to know what’s going on here, and I want to know it now.”
    “I’d love to oblige, but I’m afraid it’s impossible just at the moment. See that on the eastern horizon?” He released his safety harness, removed his flight helmet and crawled out of the cockpit.
    Her heart leapt into her throat, scattering her composure. Were they being pursued? Was he going to man some hidden high-tech defense system? She craned her neck to scan the eastern horizon for hostile aircraft, but the pre-dawn sky was empty.
    “I don’t understand. What am I supposed to see?”
    “The sun,” he said dryly. “It’s about to rise. Which means I need to seek shelter.”
    She felt her heart thudding in her chest, hard enough that she could count each and every painful contraction. Time seemed to bow and wobble, and the very air between her and the rest of the world turned liquid, heavy, oppressive.
    Omigod, omigod, omigod, omigod, omigod.
    She sucked in a shallow breath. Then another, deeper one. On the exhalation: “You’re a vampire.”
    “I’m afraid so. Though I had hoped to break the news in more favorable circumstances. “
    “Did you? Did you really?” It was a struggle to keep her tone of voice out of the fishwife register. “Or did you plan to keep me in the dark indefinitely?”
    His brows came together. “Look, I’d really like to have this out with you, but in five minutes, I’m either going to be dead to the world or just plain dead. I strongly prefer the former. So if you’ll excuse me…”
    With that, he brushed past her to flip open the top to what she’d taken for some kind of cargo storage box. Then he climbed inside its satin-lined cavity and sketched her a casual, self-mocking salute. “Until tonight.”
    Then he lay down and pulled the lid shut.
    The lid!
    To. His. Fucking. Coffin!
     
    Montreal at night. One of his favorite spots on earth. Delano gazed out over the sea of lights spread virtually at his feet, and waited. And waited still longer. But for once, the pulse of the city failed to steal into him to quicken his own heartbeat.
    Instead, he felt … nothing.
    Dammit. It was a sorry vampire whose blood was not stirred by the prospect of all that vibrant life down there on the streets.
    Of course, it was a sorrier vampire still who had to be carted into his penthouse, in full daylight, delivered up like an inanimate piece of furniture.
    Or a numb, cold piece of statuary.
    His brows drew together in a frown. What was this