Kerrelyn Sparks - How to Marry a Millionaire Vampire

In an instant, he pushed the door open and swooshed to the end of the block. As he zoomed around the corner, he saw the two mortals just starting to react. They ran toward the open door, their pistols drawn. Roman had moved so fast, they hadn't even seen him. He rounded another corner to the street in front of the clinic. There he hid behind a parked delivery van and watched the scene unfold.

Three black sedans blocked the street. Three, no, four men were there—two acting as sentries while the other two smashed their way through the glass storefront. Bloody hell . Who were these men who wanted Shanna dead?

His arms tightened around her. "Hang on, sweetness. We're going for a ride." He focused on the roof of the ten-story building behind him. A second later, they were there, and he was looking down on the group of thugs.

Shards of glass littered the sidewalk, crunching beneath the shoes of Shanna's would-be killers.

Only jagged stalagmites remained of the clinic windows. One of the thugs reached a gloved hand through the broken glass door and unlocked it. The others drew pistols from their coats and entered the clinic.

The door banged shut behind them, causing a shower of glass bits to rain down onto the sidewalk.

The mini-blinds swung back and forth with a metallic rustling sound. Soon the scrape and crash of furniture could also be heard.

"Who are these men?" he whispered, but received no answer. Shanna lay still across his shoulder.

And he felt stupid, standing there holding a woman's purse.

He spotted some plastic patio furniture on the roof—two green chairs, a small table, and a chaise lounge left in a flat, horizontal position. As he lowered the dentist onto the chaise, his hand glided down her body and knocked into something hard in her pocket. Felt like a cell phone.

He set her purse down and removed the phone from her pocket. He'd call Laszlo and have him return with the car. It was possible to contact other vampires mentally, but telepathic communication didn't always guarantee privacy. Roman was in a dilemma he didn't want accidentally overheard by another vampire. He was short one fang and had just kidnapped a mortal dentist in worse trouble than he.

He zipped back to the building's ledge and peered over. The thugs were leaving the clinic, six of them now, since the four in front of the clinic had been joined by the two from the back. They gestured angrily. Their muttered curses filtered up through the air to his extra-sensitive hearing. Russian. And they were built like defensive linemen. Roman glanced over his shoulder at Shanna.

She'd have a tough time surviving with these gorillas on her trail.

Abruptly, the men halted. Their voices hushed. Out of the shadows, a figure emerged. Damn, so there was a total of seven thugs. How had he missed this one? He could always sense the flowing blood and heated body of a mortal, but this one had completely escaped his notice.

The other six men slowly gravitated toward one another, as if they felt safer in a huddle. Six against one. How could six hefty thugs be afraid of one man? The dark figure moved to the front of the clinic. Stripes of light shot through the ravaged blinds and lit his face.

Bloody hell ! Roman stepped back. No wonder he hadn't sensed the seventh man. He was Ivan

Petrovsky, coven master of Russian vampires. And one of Roman's oldest enemies.

For the past fifty years, Petrovsky had divided his time between Russia and New York, keeping tight control over Russian vampires worldwide. Roman and his friends always kept themselves up to date on this old enemy. According to the latest reports, Petrovksy was making good money as a paid assassin.

Hiring oneself out as a killer was an age-old tradition among the more violent vampires. Murdering mortals was easy, even enjoyable for them, so why not get paid for the pleasure of going out to eat?

The logic obviously appealed to Petrovsky, and he was making his living doing a job he could really love. And no doubt, he excelled at it.

Roman had heard that Petrovsky's preferred employer was the Russian mafia. That would explain the six Russian-speaking, gun-toting mortals in his company. God's blood. The Russian mafia wanted Shanna dead.

Did the Russians know Petrovksy was a vampire? Or did they merely think he was a hired assassin from the Old Country who preferred to work at night? Either way, they clearly feared him.

They had reason to. No mortal would stand a chance against him. Not even a gutsy young woman with a Beretta hidden in her sequined Marilyn Monroe handbag.

A moan drew his attention to the gutsy young woman. She was wakening. God's blood, if the Russians had hired Ivan Petrovsky to kill Shanna, she wouldn't live through another night.

Unless… unless she was under the protection of another vampire. A vampire with enough power and resources to take on the entire coven of Russian vampires. A vampire with a security force already in place. A vampire who had fought Petrovsky before and survived. A vampire who badly needed a dentist.

Roman approached her quietly. With a groan, she lifted a hand to her brow. Her struggles against his mind control had probably given her a headache. Still, just the fact that she could resist him was amazing. And since he couldn't control her, he had no idea what she would do or say next. It made her a dangerous commodity to deal with. It made her… fascinating.

Her unbuttoned lab coat had fallen open, revealing a baby-pink T-shirt molded perfectly to her breasts. With each breath of air, her chest expanded. His jeans grew tighter. Her heated blood pumped through her veins, drawing him closer with each pulse. His gaze swept down to her tight, hip-hugging black pants. She was so beautiful, and she'd be so delicious. In more ways than one.

God's blood. He wanted to keep her. She believed he was innocent. She believed he was worth saving. But what if she found out the truth? If she discovered he was demon, she'd want to kill him.

He'd learned that too well with Eliza.

Roman straightened. He couldn't make himself vulnerable like that again. But would this one betray him? She seemed different somehow. She'd begged him to save himself. Her heart was pure.

She moaned again. God's blood, she was the vulnerable one. How could he leave her to that monster Petrovsky? Roman was the only one in New York who could protect her. His gaze wandered down her body and back to her pretty face. Oh, he could protect her, all right. But as long as his body howled with hunger and thrummed with desire, there was no way he could guarantee she'd be safe.

Not from him.

Shanna rubbed her brow. In the distance, she heard honking cars and the wail of an ambulance siren. No need for those in the afterlife. She was definitely still alive. But where?

She opened her eyes and beheld a night sky, stars partially hidden with mist. A breeze ruffled her hair against her cheek. She looked to her right. A rooftop? She was stretched out on patio furniture.

How did she get here? She looked to her left.

Him . The psycho customer with the wolf tooth. He must have brought her here, and he was coming toward her right now. She scrambled to get off the chaise lounge and gasped when the flimsy furniture started to tip.

"Careful." He was there immediately, startling her when he grabbed her arms. How did he reach her so quickly?

The pain in her head dropped a few degrees colder. His grip on her was firm. Possessive. "Let me go."

"Fine." He released her and straightened to his full height.

Shanna gulped. She hadn't realized he was so tall. And big.

"You may thank me later for saving your life."

That voice again. Low and sexy. So beguiling, but she wasn't in the mood to trust anyone right now.