Runaway Vampire (Argeneau, #23)(12)

Dante smiled at her widely. “It is working.”

“I see that,” she said dryly.

“May I use it?” he asked.

Mary nodded and then watched as he began punching in numbers, his gaze shifting between the road and the phone.

“That’s kind of dangerous,” she pointed out. “Why don’t you let me put the number in for you?”

“Thank you,” Dante murmured, passing the phone over.

Mary took the phone and then glanced to him expectantly. “What’s the number?”

“4 . . . 1 . . . 6,” he began, and then paused.

“Okay,” Mary said, thinking he was waiting to give her the chance to punch in the numbers, but they were still there from his attempt.

Dante frowned. “416 . . .” He released an impatient sound, and then admitted, “I need to be looking at the phone screen to remember.”

Mary smiled faintly, completely understanding. For some reason it was always easier for her to remember numbers with the number pad in front of her too.

“You must drive,” Dante announced now. “I have to call the Enforcer House.”

“Who?” she asked with confusion.

He waved away her question. “The authorities. Come, you must drive.”

Mary instinctively glanced to the rear camera view. The van was still tight on their tail. She shook her head. “They’ll attack the minute you pull over for us to switch places.”

“Si. So we cannot stop. You sit in my lap and I will slip out and leave the seat to you,” he said as if that was the most reasonable suggestion in the world.

Mary pursed her lips and shook her head. “Sonny, I wouldn’t sit in your lap even if you were wearing a Santa suit.”

Dante frowned with confusion. “Santa?”

Mary raised her eyebrows. “Don’t you have Santa in Italy? A big bearded guy in a red suit? Comes down the chimney and fills kids’ stockings with candies and toys?”

“Oh,” he smiled. “For us it is Befana.”

“Befana?” she echoed, trying to emulate his pronunciation.

“Si.” He smiled faintly. “She is the old woman who comes down the chimney and delivers gifts to the children of Italy who have been good that year. However, she comes on January fifth, Epiphany Eve, not Christmas Eve.”

“Hmm,” Mary murmured, her gaze sliding between the rear camera view and the steering wheel. She really did want to drive. It was her RV after all, and while Dante wasn’t doing too bad a job, it was obvious he’d never driven an RV before. He kept trying to make the vehicle go faster than it was able too, causing the engine to whine. If he kept it up, they could blow the engine and she didn’t want that. There was no way she was sitting in his naked lap though.

“What if I just hold the wheel while you get up, then slip onto the seat and take over?” she suggested. It shouldn’t be too tricky a maneuver. She just had to keep the wheel straight as she sat down, and even if she moved it a little they should be all right. There were no cars directly beside or in front of them at the moment.

He shook his head. “We will slow down the minute I take my foot off the gas,” he pointed out. “And that might be all the encouragement they need to force us off the road, witnesses or no.”

Mary scowled at this argument and glanced toward the back of the RV, trying to think of some way to avoid his suggestion. There was a broom in one of the cupboards, as well as a mop. Perhaps she could push down on the gas pedal with that while he vacated the seat and . . . She stood up, intending to go fetch either the mop or broom, and then gasped in surprise when Dante suddenly reached out to snake one arm around her and drag her into his lap. She landed sideways with a squawk and immediately tried to struggle up off of him, then froze as the RV swerved slightly.

“Sit still,” Dante commanded firmly as if she hadn’t already caught on to the fact that she would have to unless she wanted yet another accident that night. After straightening out the vehicle, Dante released a breath, then glanced to her face and offered a charming smile. “All is well. Just turn in my lap to face front and place your foot over mine on the gas pedal.”

“I don’t think . . .” Mary began weakly, only to fall silent as he removed his left hand from the steering wheel to rub her back in what she supposed was meant to be a soothing manner, but really did not have a soothing effect on her.

“It is all right. We are halfway there,” he cooed, his voice coaxing. “Just turn to face forward for me, yes?”

Mary closed her eyes briefly, but then released a small sigh, firmed her mouth and carefully shifted in his lap until she sat facing forward. She was immediately sorry she had. This new position left her completely enveloped by the man, his arms on either side of her, his body behind and beneath her and his clean, wholesome scent encasing her like a sausage in a bun.

Speaking of sausage, what the hell was that poking her in the bottom? Surely it wasn’t—Good Lord, it was!

“This is good, yes?” Dante asked, his words a breathy whisper that stirred the hair by her ear and Mary swallowed against the response her body was having and gave her head a firm shake. This was not good. Although she didn’t get the chance to say so before he added, “We are almost there.”

She nearly asked, almost where? But managed to bite back the question.