Free Falling from the Light (The Night Runner Series Book 3) by Regan Summers Page A

another,” he said.
    “Urgh. As if I could fit it.” I pushed my plate aside so that I wouldn’t embarrass myself by licking the aioli, and leaned forward.
    It was nearly night and vampires swarmed the lobby. Those entering through the shelter of a valet tunnel were greeted by a team of hotel employees, all dressed in black pants and white shirts like Chev. I didn’t get owning your own place and wearing a uniform, but it made the staff appear to be everywhere. Good for making people feel like they were being waited on hand and foot, better as a deterrent if anyone was considering misbehaving. Guests arrived in intervals, or maybe actually by appointment since sitting in a car in the sun, waiting for the line to creak along, would suck. The groups swirling through the lobby were more colorful and unique. Oddly, there were almost no lone vampires, just a few darting to and from the concierge desks. The low totem pole guys who couldn’t sit around plotting and basking in luxury all day.
    Mal had Soraya, and in Santiago he’d had a little band that he’d trusted. But the rest of the time he was surrounded by Bronson’s people. How hard was it to walk alone when everybody else was part of a bonded group? It must be like high school, but where the cliques were killers in addition to being dicks.
    “How well do you know all the people here?” I asked. He glanced up, surprised. He glanced out at the floor, his gaze taking in and measuring the groups lined up and posing as they arrived.
    “I know the ones I need to know.” He leaned back, the energy that had momentarily tightened returning to a smooth flow. “When working with a crowd, it’s a matter of gathering good intelligence ahead of time and keeping up on the latest news before you walk in the door. Once you’re with them, it’s still just a collection of individuals.”
    “And disguises. You can’t be the only one who’s masquerading as someone else.”
    “No, but that’s not specific to vampires.”
    Point taken.
    He raised an eyebrow. “Petr should have done better in selecting a name for you. You don’t look like an Andrea. How do you like the car?”
    “It’s glorious. A tad conspicuous. Is that for a reason?”
    “So your bodyguards have a decent target. They already reported that you’re driving evasively.”
    “Efficiently.” I raised a finger and followed it with an eyebrow. “I drive efficiently. If they can’t keep up with a boat the size and color of the actual sky, that’s a them problem.”
    His lips quirked. “You don’t like it? We’ll get you something smaller. What was the car you had in Santiago?”
    “A bag of bones with a lawn mower engine and no dignity. That’s a cheap shot, Malcolm Kelly! That car was the low point of my life.” Actually, Santiago had featured a number of low points. And scary points. I rubbed at my wrist. It still ached on occasion.
    “Hey. That’s all done.” He pulled me closer and rested his cheek against my head.
    I nestled in. “You’re better at moving on than I am.”
    “The effect of a long existence. We learn to ignore unpleasant things once they’re done.”
    It was a skill I was starting to admire. I was okay, apart from the occasional nightmare. I rarely remembered them, but they bothered him. Those he wasn’t ignoring. Maybe life wasn’t all sunshine and roses, but if bad dreams were the worst thing about my relationship with a vampire, I guess that wasn’t so bad. Things would be better the sooner we left this place, though, and that meant getting to work.
    The entire table, other than my empty plate, was covered. Black and white photocopies of maps. Handwritten notes and drawings. My eye snagged on the sketch he’d placed on the far corner, as far from me as possible. A bone-thin figure drawn in charcoal, lying in a bed staring up with blank eyes. A glass of water and pill bottles on the side table. Not dead but no sunshine and roses there, either.
    “Who’s your