Nothing happened. Amaury waited several seconds, but the expected sound of the garage door lifting didn’t come. Impatiently, he went back into the garage and pressed the button again. Nothing.
Then he noticed the sign next to the switch.
Fellow Agents,
Please do not use garage door opener. Garage door is jammed and has been bolted. Repair is scheduled for Thursday.
Amaury pulled out his cell and dialed Oliver’s number.
“I’m outside, Amaury. Can you let me in?” Oliver’s voice answered immediately.
“That’s a problem. The garage door is broken.”
“Oh, boy!”
Yes, oh, boy.
He and his fellow vampires wouldn’t be able to board the van in the safety of the garage, away from the burning rays of the sun. This day sucked—major.
His colleagues liked the news even less than he did when he explained the situation to them.
“You can’t be serious,” Yvette grumbled, pulling herself straight in her corner of the couch. “I’m not going outside while it’s daylight. Pick me up at night. I’m staying here.” She crossed her arms over her ample chest and pouted her lips.
“I’d like to see you try,” Zane provoked her. “Already now you’re thirsty. How long do you think you can hold out without blood? Or are you planning on sucking on one of us?”
“Fuck you!” Yvette hissed.
Amaury growled. He was sick of the bickering. No matter what anybody said, he and his colleagues wouldn’t be able to remain in the house for long.
“Staying here is not an option. There’s a broker’s Open House starting at nine thirty. The listing agent is going to be here by nine o’clock. We can’t stay,” Amaury informed them.
“We can wipe his memory when he gets here and do the same with any of the buyers who’re coming. They’ll never remember we were here,” Yvette suggested.
Amaury let out a mirthless laugh. “I guess you don’t go to a lot of Open Houses, Yvette, otherwise you’d know that the first thing the broker will do is open the curtains and let the light in. You don’t show a house in the dark.”
Yvette’s mouth turned into a thin line. He knew how she hated to be outsmarted.
“Amaury is right. We can’t stay,” Gabriel’s calm voice responded. “It’s just a short dash. Yes, we’ll have some burns, but we’ll survive. When did you all turn into wimps?”
“Can’t we fix the garage door?” Yvette asked.
“I don’t know about you, but I’m not an electrician,” Quinn remarked without malice.
“We’ll stick with Amaury’s plan, and that’s that.” Gabriel put his foot down.
At least one person was on Amaury’s side. He knew his plan wasn’t great, but the alternative was worse. Even if they prevented the broker from opening the curtains by using mind control on him, somebody else might slip through the cracks. Staying here was too risky.
Amaury turned to Oliver. “Back up the van as close to the front door as you can, then open the back doors.”
“There are rose bushes blocking the entryway,” he advised.
“I don’t care. Drive over them.” He could send somebody later to take care of the damage and have everything rectified before the listing agent arrived. “Call my cell when you’re ready.”
Oliver turned to leave.
“I could slap you for getting us into this situation. I should have known you’d screw up.” Yvette jumped up from the couch and trained a sour look on Amaury.
“Oh, go ahead. Take a swing if it makes you feel better. As if I give a shit.”
He shrugged his shoulders as he listened to the front door opening and then closing again. He knew Yvette all too well. She was all talk and no action. Soon she’d run out of steam and deflate again. It wasn’t worth wasting his breath on it.
The kick to his stomach had Amaury revise his opinion of her. He doubled over. She’d obviously perfected her karate moves and decided to hand out the beating he’d been due for years.
“Bitch!” He didn’t have enough breath for a wittier response while his body dealt with the unexpected assault.
“Yvette, that’s enough,” Gabriel reprimanded. “We all know what this is about.”
Amaury pulled himself straight. His stomach muscles readjusted. Her kick had nothing to do with the present and everything to do with the past.
He made a mental note never to fuck a colleague again, no matter how desperate he got. It was definitely better to stick to nameless, faceless women whose memories he could erase and who he would never see again.