So at 2:00 a.m., I trek wearily home. I’ve rented a condo downtown while my cottage in Mission Beach is being rebuilt. I console myself with the thought that it’s logical for me to go home because I plan to be in the office early. I want to fill my partner David in on what we’ll be doing for the next couple of days.

Tracking a niece I didn’t know I had.

A niece who may be involved in a murder.

I reach into my handbag beside me on the seat and withdraw the picture I removed from Carolyn’s album. I hold it in front of me, just below my line of sight as I drive, so I can glance at it.

There is something about the girl that fascinates me. Not just that she’s my niece, but that I feel a connection to her unlike anything I’ve ever experienced. Since becoming a vampire, I find my sentiments toward humans often seem to rage out of control. Culebra tells me it’s natural. That as long as I have ties to human family and friends, I will be sensitive to mortal concerns.

But this is more than mortal concern.

I can’t describe what I feel when I look at this girl. But it’s powerful and strong.

And it feels a lot like hope.

Tuesday

By the time I get home, I’m exhausted. The myth about vampires being creatures of the night is just that. Some things don’t change when you become a vampire. If you were a morning person before the change, you will remain a morning person. I need my eight hours, so when the alarm goes off at six, I literally have to drag myself out of bed and into the shower.

The need for that first cup of coffee is another of those constants. I don’t bother to get dressed before I plug in the pot. By the time I’ve slipped on jeans and a sweater, the coffee is ready and so am I.

I take a cup of coffee and go to stand on the balcony that spans the front of my apartment. I have a view that extends over SeaportVillage and west toward Coronado. In early morning, the bay is quiet, the motionless water shimmering like liquid gold in the sun.

I sip coffee and let the caffeine awaken sleeping brain cells. Mom is arranging for me to spend the day at her school in the guise of an extra security person hired because of Barbara Franco’s murder. There will be grief counselors on campus, also, so another unfamiliar face shouldn’t be cause for alarm. The few teachers who might recognize me know what I do for a living. It’s not too far a stretch to imagine a Bail Enforcement Agent moonlighting as a security guard.

And the irony is not lost on me that for the first time, my choice of occupation is not a matter of dissension between my parents and me. Not once last night did they mention how much they wished I’d give up this quasi-law enforcement gig and go back to teaching.

Carolyn didn’t know the particulars about Barbara’s death, but I’m assuming there will be something in the newspaper. I finish my coffee, grab my purse and start down for the parking garage. There’s a newspaper kiosk just outside the elevator door. I drop in the requisite coins, pull out the paper and fold it under my arm. I’m busy searching my purse for car keys when I run head first into the last person I expect to see-my sometimes boyfriend, Max.

So much for a vampire’s catlike reflexes. I literally bounce off his chest. He laughs and gently holds me at arm’s length.

“Hey, sunshine. Where are you off to in such a rush?”

Max is one of those big, handsome men that makes a female’s heart beat faster-human or vamp. He’s six foot three and weighs in at a well-muscled two hundred twenty-five. He’s Latino, with eyes the color of the ocean. The combination of suntanned skin, dark hair, and those glorious eyes takes my breath away.

This morning he’s wearing shorts and a muscle shirt that emphasize most of his best features.

Most. Not all.

He’s holding my arms and smiling down at me. I gather my wits together enough to cleverly ask, “Where did you come from?”

“Originally?” he says. “Or just now?”

I shake my head. “You know what I mean. When did you get back from DC?”

He makes a move to turn me back toward the elevator. “I’ll be happy to fill you in. But let’s go upstairs. It’s been way too long since we’ve seen each other and I’ve missed you. A lot. Want to see?”

I’ve missed him, too. It’s been a long time since we’ve been together-really together. Since I became a vampire, in fact. First it was because feeding and sex are so intertwined, I was afraid to let myself go there with Max.

He doesn’t know what I am, of course. No human does.

And then I got involved in a thing with Avery, the vampire who mentored me.

That didn’t work out so very well. In fact, because of that relationship my home got burned to the ground and my partner almost killed. Not things I’m proud of. But during all that time, Max was working undercover as the driver for a Mexican drug lord. That case came to a close and he was sent to Washington to clean up the details. He’s been gone the last two months.

But now, here he is.

I stare into his wonderful face, heat rippling my skin with such a strong flush of sexual desire I almost succumb to the temptation to take him back upstairs. I think I’ve learned to separate feeding from sex in the time we’ve been apart, but unfortunately, I don’t have time to test the theory. I’m due at Mom’s school at eight, and I need to get David working on a trace.

Reluctantly, I extricate myself from his hands. “I can’t. Not now. I have to go to the office. Come with me. There’s something I want to tell David and you should hear it, too. In fact, you may be able to help.”

The corners of his mouth turn down. “Great. Spending the morning with you and David. Just what I fantasized about all the way from Washington.”

He takes my hand and follows me to my car. I use the remote to open the doors. When we’re both inside and heading out of the parking garage, he asks, “Help you with what?”

“Wait until we get to the office,” I reply. “I’ll tell you and David both at the same time. Fill me in on your case. What’s going on?”

He shrugs. “It’s a wrap. Martinez’s currency exchange houses in Mexico are history. The dozen or so businesses he used on this side of the border will be next. Martinez will have to find a new way to launder his drug money.”

Martinez is the head of the Mexican mob-the guy Max worked undercover for as his driver. I sneak a sideways look at his face. “But Martinez hasn’t been arrested yet, right?”

Max catches the real question I’m asking. He reaches over and caresses my shoulder. “I’m not in any danger. At least not yet. Martinez wouldn’t be crazy enough to come after me here, even if he figures out who I am. He may be a greedy, ruthless bastard but he’s not suicidal. He’ll lay low for a while. In fact, we have intel that he and his family are in Columbia. At the hacienda of one of his suppliers.”

“When do you expect to go after him?”

“As soon as we have extradition ironed out. So far, the Federales have agreed to cooperate. For the time being, it’s best to let Martinez think he’s in the clear. That it was just minions like me who got picked up. When the time is right, we want to catch him by surprise.”

He sounds very matter-of-fact and unconcerned, but I know as long as Martinez is loose, Max is not completely safe. Sooner or later it’s bound to get back to Martinez that the driver he thinks is in jail is actually a federal agent putting together the case against him.

But right now I’m pulling into the parking lot in front of my office so the conversation is put on hold. The office is on

Pacific Coast Highway

, in a low-slung, concrete building that used to belong to the Star-Kist people when tuna fishing was a thriving industry in San Diego. The building stood vacant for over fifteen years, prime waterfront real estate. A consortium of businessmen, my father among them, worked out a deal to convert the property to office space. He cut David and me a deal, and we got first pick of the renovated spaces-a corner office with a deck over the water. To top it off, we have designated parking spots, a luxury unheard of this close to SeaportVillage and the marina.