The next morning, Danica and Asher Talos walked into the L.A. headquarters of Bank of America to finalize the process their accountant had begun online. All liquid assets were transferred to a Cayman Island account, real estate holdings were sorted into piles to sell back to the bank, put up for sale or set aside for later.

"I'm sorry to hear we'll be losing your business," the bank president, Mr. Vargas, said, standing to shake their hands. "I thought we'd be seeing more of you in the area, not less."

"Well," Danica nearly shrugged, but a sideways glance at Asher and his quick head shake, and she thought better of it. "Our plans are really none of your business." She checked Asher again; a nod--that was better.

"Oh, well, I, uh," Mr. Vargas struggled. It wasn't a good day by any means, losing some millions of assets, and her overt rudeness caught him as a parting low blow. "I hope you've enjoyed your time with us. And, uh, I wish you success in…where was it you said you were going?"

"We didn't," Asher said, evenly. "Shall we?" He extended an arm to Danica.

"Mr. Vargas," Danica bowed her head slightly to the bank man but pointedly ignored his outstretched hand. Papers tucked against her with one arm, she exited with Asher into the bright sunlight outside, leaving the stunned bank president to sit heavily back in his large leather chair. It was not going to be a good day at all.

"We got it," 'Danica' said when the call to Gidge connected. Disgusted with the sound of her voice, she ripped at the speech modifier attached to her throat. They'd had to pass a voice scan, which Gidge had discovered was attached to the account; vampires were nothing if not extremely anal about protecting their investments. Luckily, a retinal scan hadn't been needed--not that vamps, with their permanently static irises, would have been able to make a retinal map in the first place.

"You've got a flight to catch in two hours. I'd head to the airport now, if I were you."

"Zoe?"

"She's fine. She'll meet you there." Gidge cut off the call, and Abby sighed, tucking the cell phone into the small purse she'd worn to complement the outfit. It was a button-down blue-black dress, light material, hugging her figure but not tightly. In short, not Abby at all.

"I can't believe your ex used to dress like this, King. I can't believe you talked me into wearing this either."

'Asher' ran his hands over his smooth chin and down his throat to remove the modification device there. When he spoke, he was undeniably King again. "It was just a precaution."

"Anyone watching would know we weren't vamps."

"Yeah, but we had to fool the voice print and typical human common sense. People like Danica and Asher look the way they sound. If it didn't match up, we might have had trouble."

"You were looking for an excuse to get me in a dress."

"Thought never crossed my mind," he said, absently, still rubbing at his face. He looked a damn sight younger without the beard and mustache. "I just wasn't sure how much contact they had with the bank."

"I'm surprised there weren't any familiars there."

"There were."

Abby froze. "What?"

"None I recognized," King mused, mostly to himself, "but they were there. Nothing they could do while we were there. For all they know, we were sent by their masters to do what we did. But they'll be burning up wires tonight."

"Then why the hell did we go in there?" Abby couldn't smother her irritation; this work was dangerous enough without taking foolish chances.

"Relax. Gidge has locked the IP addresses on the computers, and he'll scan e-mails to see who's been naughty and who's been nice. We'll collect them later."

"It's still a stupid risk."

"Maybe."

"Maybe? Maybe nothing, King. We didn't need the money that badly."

He arched an eyebrow at her. "Would you rather they had it?"

"No, but we didn't need to…"

"Fine," he grumbled, shoving his hands gracelessly into the depths of the expensive suit pants we wore. "Fine, we didn't need to. Drop it, Whistler." Abby let go of his arm as he pulled ahead, walking to the end of the block and hailing a cab at the corner. She walked up to him slowly, teetering a bit in the heels she'd worn to complete their ruse, a perfect match of unsteady body to match wobbly mind. What was that? We didn't need to, he'd said.

It clicked after a second, when King glanced briefly away from the cars going by and over at her. We didn't need to, she realized. He needed to. Frustration boiled alongside pity; while she could understand his need to close that part of his past, it was still a stupid risk, just to have some sort of final revenge or indignity heaped upon the vampire who'd held him captive all those years. Still, when she reached him at the corner, and he looked everywhere over her body except her eyes, she couldn't prevent pity from winning out. Impulsively, and for the first time in any kind of public, she reached up and kissed him on the cheek.

Goggling at her, King stepped back, his face wild with shock. "What was that for?"

"You're an idiot, you know that?" She linked her arm with his again and put her high-heeled legs to good use. A cab stopped promptly, more than willing to pick them up despite the suicidal dodging and weaving he had to do to get over to them.

"LAX," Abby directed, sliding into the backseat and pretending to take no notice as the cabbie adjusted the rear view to get a better view of the car's rear than anything behind it. King jumped in beside her, self-consciously adjusting his suit. At least, she thought, she wasn't the only one uncomfortable with this role play.