The apartment overlooked the beautiful blues and greens of the ocean. The sun lingered on the horizon, as if waiting for the closing clouds. Her gaze moved from the incredible view to the condo's owner, whose desk sat against the wall opposite her beside the windows. He wore headphones and spoke into a microphone, simultaneously responding to half a dozen chat windows open on this computer. He wore nothing but sweatpants, and his exposed upper back drew her attention.

Whoever he was, he was as strong as a lion. His skin was golden, his wide back muscled, lean and defined down to the slender hips and waist. She'd never seen a man as perfectly honed as he was.

She waited until she was certain he was distracted before she crept across the apartment, keeping as close to the wall farthest from him as possible. She reached the door and undid the locks with trembling hands, wondering what kind of person kept five locks on his door. When she'd finished, she twisted the knob and pulled.

Nothing happened. She tugged harder. She rechecked all the locks and tried one more time.

"It's not gonna open."

She jumped at his low, even voice, heart racing. She turned to face him, surprised to find the man who'd almost killed her earlier. He leaned against the wall a few feet from her, arms crossed and cold blue eyes on her. He was even more striking than she remembered. His cheekbones were high, his chiseled face matching the chiseled body. From his shoulders to his chest to his flat midsection, every part of him looked as if he'd been carefully carved from stone.

"Of all the weapons under the bed, you chose that one?" he asked, looking at the scissors.

"I didn't see any others," she murmured.

"A woman always has weapons in the bedroom."

She flushed, sensing he wasn't talking about knives and guns. He studied her for a long minute. Uncomfortable, she cleared her throat.

"Are you going to ..." She drifted off and displayed her scarred forearms.

He stepped forward, taking the scissors from her in one hand and one of her wrists in the other. His fingers were long and slim, his palms round. Even his hands were muscular, and she couldn't help comparing his light touch to Talon's brutal grip. Her gaze went to his chest and thick arms. His movements were controlled, his strength restrained. She felt his body heat from the short distance between them and recognized his scent from the sheets.

"Talon?" he asked.

She nodded. He traced the long scar marking Talon's attempt to slice her arm in two from elbow to wrist. She winced and pulled away, remembering the pain too well. He didn't move away, and she looked up at last.

His direct gaze was intense as he took in her features. His gaze went lower, and she flushed again as he looked her over. It wasn't the same type of scrutiny as Talon's feral, maniacal look. This man's look was considering, as if he were trying to memorize her features in case he needed the information in the future.

"Sit your ass down," he said and nodded his head behind him towards the living room.

"I have to go," she said quickly. "I have to find my brother. He's in trouble."

"Now."

She found herself hurrying around him to the couch at his low growl and suspected he wasn't someone who ever repeated anything. Panic stirred as she recalled what his men had done at Talon's stash house. She braced herself for him to turn into Talon and hurt her.

"You're fatigued," he said.

She followed him with her eyes as he retreated towards the kitchen. Her gaze returned to the door and lingered. She must not have twisted one of the locks, even though she'd checked them all twice. When she looked to the stranger, she found his warning look on her.

"Rule one: no running. Think of yourself in the predators' wing of the zoo. You run, they kill you. You stay put, they just might ignore you. Got it?"

The comparison made her breath catch. She knew him to be merciless, and his words only reminded her how dangerous he was. From his cold features to his controlled, efficient movement, to the low, commanding tone, there was no doubt he belonged in the predators' wing of the zoo.

"I have to find my brother," she said in a small voice. "Did you find him in the stash house?"

"No," he said and then muttered something that sounded like damn Oracle before raising his voice to address her again. "But I know where he is."

Her heart leapt, and she stood, halfway to him before his sharp look reminded her he wasn't someone she wanted to approach. She retreated to the couch and sat on its arm.

"Is he okay?" she asked at his silence.

"We'll see."

He returned from the kitchen with tray holding a glass of orange juice, a plate with what looked like homemade granola bars, and a small bowl of sliced apples. He set it down on the coffee table and returned to the computer.

Surprised, she watched him. He said nothing as he responded to the messages on his screen. She ate quickly, looking from his perfect body to her scarred forearms. In a few days, even the scars would heal.

She wondered what was wrong with Jonny, if she'd get to him in time to heal him from whatever drugs Talon gave him. She fidgeted then rose, too antsy to sit still when her emotions were in turmoil. She looked at the pictures on his walls, not surprised to find them bland. Images of landmark buildings, of the seven greatest wonders of the ancient world, and city scenes from around the world. Coldly impersonal, like the rest of the apartment.

"There's no life in here."

She felt his cold gaze and didn't face him, cringing instead. He hadn't hurt her like Talon, but she had the feeling she wasn't at all welcome. Even in the kitchen, the fruits and vegetables that gave a splash of color to her kitchen were hidden away. She opened one cabinet, not surprised to see white bone china. And no dust, even in the cabinet. She'd go crazy in such a place!

Pushing the cabinet closed, she jumped to find the stranger so close. He'd changed into a sweater and dark jeans and gazed down at her, disapproval in his hard features.

"Don't touch my shit," he said firmly. He was too close again. His hand grazed her as he reached around her for a set of keys she hadn't noticed on the counter. Another warm buzz traveled through her, scattering her thoughts at his nearness and scent. "C'mon."

She sprang forward, anxious to see her brother. He stopped at the door and faced her.

"Rule number one," he reminded her.

She nodded, willing to agree to anything if it meant she could see Jonny. He led her through the apartment building to an underground garage and to a sleek, black sports car with black interior.

He said nothing as they exited and drove north, towards the highway. She took in the clean car and shook her head, wondering how many hours a week he spent cleaning everything he owned to keep it all so spotless.

"Can I ask you something?" she ventured, gazing at his handsome profile.

"Depends on what it is."

"How about your name?"

"Dusty."

She stared at him. "You don't think it's ironic?" she asked. "You don't have a spot of dust anywhere in your house or car and your name's Dusty." He said nothing, void of emotion. She cursed herself quietly for saying stupid things.

"Name," Dusty said.

"Bianca Rodriguez."

"Brother's name."

"Jonathan, Jonny for short."

"Address."

"I'm staying with Jonny here in Miami at Dad's ... Jonny's apartment. Our dad died last year, and I moved-"

"Age."

"I'm twenty-five, he just turned twenty."

"Marital status."

"I was engaged for a while, but that ... well, single, both of us," she said with a frown.

"Birthdays."

"Eighteen November for me and five March for him."

"How'd your dad die?" he asked.

"Heart attack."

"What do you do for a living?"

"I'm an aspiring chef. I've been studying culinary arts for a few years and recently decided to branch out on my own."

"You're unemployed."

"I guess," she murmured. She was worried and tired already, and his latest jab didn't buoy her spirits at all. He seemed done with his interrogation of her, and she looked at him. "Do you like living in Miami?"

"I don't give a shit where I live."

"You have a nice view from your apartment."

No response.

"Am I your prisoner or are you some sort of really weird Good Samaritan that's gonna let me go when we get to where we're going?" she asked with a sigh. "I'm kinda not digging this whole put-me-in-the-bathtub-and-suck-my-blood gig."

He glanced at her.

"So, if you could tell me either way," she continued. "I don't think you want me imprisoned in your apartment. I'd use the wrong towel or leave a dish out, and then you'd be threatening to kill me again. It just won't work. It's better if you let me go."

"You're a prisoner."

"For how long?" she asked, frowning.

"Not your concern."

"What are you going to do with me?"

"Right now, I'm thinking of gagging you," he snapped.

She swallowed her other questions and twisted her hands in her lap, distraught.

Dusty almost felt bad for snapping at her, but she was driving him crazy. He glanced at her again. She was staring out the window. His gaze lingered, and he took in the beautiful doe brown eyes, deep set and large, framed by long eyelashes. Her skin was caramel, her long brown hair falling in fat ringlets around her elfin features. She was built the way a woman should be: shapely, with large breasts, plump lips, tiny waist, and rounded hips and ass. She was toned and curvy, her skin as soft as her voice.

He hadn't thought twice about Toni's message that he'd delivered the package from the stash house to his condo until he walked in and discovered the vamp he expected was a woman. She didn't have Jenn's drop dead, gorgeous beauty or Sofi's classic, cool beauty. Bianca was the epitome of adorable, her dark eyes sparkling and warm, and her sweet glow innocent and fresh. She didn't realize her natural effect on men, what with the sultry sway of her hips and ass and her large, dark eyes.

He hadn't paid much attention to any woman in many, many years, but couldn't help thinking her one of the most attractive he'd ever met. If shit was about to hit the fan like he suspected, he'd rather not spend his last days alone. Then again, if his shithead friends in Europe answered their phones, he wouldn't.

Sofi wanted her watched for some reason. After the trip to the hospital, he'd drop her off for the Oracle to deal with and go back to work, where maybe he could shake his sense of doom by killing some vamps.

"Oh, my god!" Bianca exclaimed.

He glanced out the window and realized he'd pulled in the entrance for the emergency room and morgue. Bianca gazed at him, pale and stricken. Her hands trembled.

"He's not dead," he assured her.

Her gaze remained on him, disbelieving. He resisted the urge to reach out to her as he did Sofi when the Oracle cried after a particularly brutal session with Darian's bad memories. He wondered if Bianca's thick curls were as soft as Sofi or Jenn's hair. His phone rang, and he snatched it from the dashboard. He grated his teeth to see Darian's number on the screen. He answered.

"Dusty, I'm-" Darian started. Dusty knew at once by Darian's tone that whatever the Grey God wanted to do, it would get him in trouble.

"No," Dusty said.

"But I met this girl and she-"

"Hell, no."

"Dusty-"

"My house, my rules, no compromise," Dusty reminded him. "Get your ass to the range and learn to shoot. I'm activating your GPS. If you're not there in half an hour, I'm coming to find you." Darian gave another of his annoyed sighs and hung up.

Bianca was staring at him. He ignored her and parked, leading her into the hospital. He hung back as she approached the first nurse's station they came to, aware of the effect he had on humans. Those around him moved away, and those on a path towards his side of the hall changed their minds and turned around. He looked at his watch, aware he had a morning packed with activities to follow up on.

His phone rang again, and he answered, trailing Bianca to an elevator.

"Hey, boss," Toni said. "I took a look at the logistics info you showed me. Hector in Missouri is gonna help me straighten it out. We should have it done by noon. Also, ikira said you needed help managing your schedule, so I'm forwarding you your agenda for today. I'll take a couple of the meetings, and I tasked Jenn to start forwarding intelligence reports to me as well. Are you groovy with all that?"

"Yep," he said, pleased. "Do what you need to. Sasha's files are on the shared drive. You can dig through those as well. He was more anal than me, so I know everything is in order."

"It gets kinda crazy around here, doesn't it?"

"Definitely," Dusty said with a trace of a smile. "If the inmates try to run the asylum, give me a call." He hung up.

"What exactly do you do for a living?" Bianca asked, her eyes wide.

"You're not ready for that." He tucked the phone away and met her gaze, watching the emotions that crossed her face. Red crept up her features, and she looked away. She still looked fatigued, with dark circles under her eyes and skin pale beneath the caramel.

He sensed the presence of the vamp before they exited the elevator. The sense grew stronger as she led them down the hall past a waiting room and nurse's station towards the quiet hallway lined by patients' rooms, each housing four to five patients. She slowed to look at the room numbers.

The hairs on the back of his neck rose as she stopped in front of one and pushed the door open.

"Jonny?" she called, entering the well-lit room. Dusty followed her, a familiar tension filling him as he looked at the lone person in the room.

"Hey, B," her brother responded in a groggy voice.