Words bounced around in his head.

Hollywood.

Actress.

Kimberly.

His eyes snapped to the picture. And then he saw it. Saw her. The woman with the green eyes like a cat. The actress on the posters in the cell. Though her hair color was different, her eyes were unmistakable.

Kimberly.

It wasn’t I’m not in Berlin or I’m not Amberly.

I’m not Kimberly was what Isabelle had tried to tell her kidnapper. Kimberly had been the target, not Isabelle.

“Let’s go, buddy,” his vampire escort said from behind him and gave him a shove toward the door.

Luther obeyed automatically and stepped outside, where another vampire stood guard. Behind him the door closed. The cool night air whirled around him, and he slipped on his jacket. He turned left and walked to the next corner. Hesitating, he stopped there.

No wonder he’d thought he knew Katie when he’d encountered her in the corridor at the university. She was Kimberly Fairfax, the actress whose posters had been plastered over the other V-CON’s cell. The posters Summerland had torn down.

Katie was the intended victim. She’d been the target, and most likely still was.

Goddamn it! This wasn’t his fight. He was leaving tonight. Samson had made it clear that their next encounter would be a bloody one. Next time he would strike first and ask questions later.

Luther pulled the lapels of his jacket up, firm in his resolve to leave, when a woman’s voice drifted to him from the entrance to Scanguards’ headquarters.

“But I have to speak to Samson. It’s important.”

Luther glanced over his shoulder. Katie. Or Kimberly. Whatever her name was.

“Sorry, Ma’am, but I have orders to deny access to any non-Scanguards associates tonight.” The vampire blocked the entrance with his bulky body.

“Please, I’m Haven’s sister. Let me see him.”

“No family members on the premises tonight. Besides, Haven isn’t in right now.”

Katie cursed. “Then Blake. I’ll talk to Blake.”

The vampire didn’t move.

“Damn it, why are you so stubborn? I have vital information about the abduction. I have to get it to Samson or Blake. I have to show them this.”

For the first time Luther noticed the letters in her hand, which she now waved at the guard.

“Do you have a cell phone, Ma’am?” the guard asked calmly.

“Yes, why?”

“I suggest you use it and call Blake. But I can’t let you in tonight. We’re on lockdown.”

Katie gritted her teeth. “Fine!” Then she walked a few yards in Luther’s direction and stopped at the curb, her face turned away from him.

Luther remained in the shadow of the adjacent building, undetected, and watched her as she pulled her cell from her pocket.

With his vampire hearing, he had no problem picking up every single word she spoke into the phone.

“Blake, damn it, why are you not picking up your phone?” She sighed. “It’s Katie. I found something. You have to check the video footage of Isabelle’s abduction. Read her lips. She’s telling the kidnapper that she’s not Kimberly. Blake, the kidnapper wanted me, not Isabelle. He got the wrong person.” She lifted her hand, holding the letters as if wanting to show them to Blake through her cell phone. “I think I know who it is. I’ve been getting letters. Some obsessed fan. They are different from the usual fan mail I still get. I think he was threatening me. Threatening to come for me. Blake, please, you need to check this out. The letters were posted somewhere in the Sierras. He isn’t far away. He could have found out about the performance tonight. Please, call me as soon as you get this message. You need to see these letters.”

She disconnected the call.

Posted somewhere in the Sierras.

The words echoed in Luther’s head. The Sierras, where the vampire prison was located.

Shit!

9

Katie shivered. She’d thrown only a cardigan over her T-shirt before leaving her house and jumping back into her car, too excited about what she’d found to look for a thicker jacket in one of her many closets. Besides, she’d not expected to be denied entry into Scanguards, and to have to stand in the cold, arguing with a security guard.

Wrapping her arms around herself to ward off the cold, she ran back one block to where she’d parked her car in a quiet alley. Having spent half her life in Southern California, she had yet to get used to the cool winters in San Francisco, so unlike the balmy weather down south.

Her hand trembled slightly as she dug into her handbag, where she’d shoved the letters back, and pulled out her car key. She turned to the driver’s door of her Audi, when a movement in her peripheral vision made her snap her head to the side.