Duncan (27 page)

“And you shot my man,” Duncan said tightly.

“Yeah, well, shit happens. He startled me is all. Shouldn’t startle a man like that.”

“I see. So it’s his fault he got shot.”

“Well, yeah, sort of.”

Duncan studied the man, wondering if he shouldn’t return a good dose of fear to the human, if for no other reason than to punish him for being such a worm.

“Is it possible someone got to him, Sire?” Miguel asked softly.

Duncan had already considered, and rejected, the possibility that another vampire had manipulated this pitiful excuse for a man and sent him to kill Emma.

“There’s no sign of tampering. The problem is,” he admitted, “that this creature really does prey on the dead. If someone knew that, it would be simplicity itself to direct him to Emma’s and let him do what he does best. The necessary suggestion would be so mild that unless the vampire was a total idiot, the result would be all but undetectable, even to me. Especially since the human honestly believes what he’s telling us.”

Miguel frowned. “So what do we do with him? He nearly killed Baldwin.”

Duncan agreed. He couldn’t simply let the man go. He hadn’t killed anyone last night, not that Duncan knew of anyway, but it was probably only a matter of time before he did. On the other hand, it wasn’t Duncan’s responsibility to protect the human race from itself, either.

“I don’t believe our friend here fully appreciates the dangers of his chosen profession. I think a small lesson is in order, after which you can send him back into the wild and let nature take its course.”

Duncan released the human from the hold he had on his brain, and watched fear reassert itself as all the appropriate chemicals filtered back into the man’s bloodstream.

“What the fuck?” the human said, staring around with wide, terrified eyes as he took in his predicament. “Who are you people?”

Miguel bared his fangs and grinned at the struggling human. The man was still screaming when Duncan left the basement and headed for his office, wondering idly where Emma was. It was well past the one hour after sunset time they’d agreed upon. He could always call the guard he’d assigned to her and find out what she was doing. But if anything significant had happened the guard would have called
him
by now. Perhaps she’d had to work late or perhaps . . . His phone rang as he sat behind his desk. Glancing at the caller ID, he saw that it was Jackson Hissong, the human in charge of his daytime guards. Duncan frowned. It wasn’t usual for Jackson to be around this late.

“Jackson,” he said, answering. “You’re here late.”

“Yes, my lord. I’m about to head out, but the guard assigned to follow Emma Duquet today just reported in.”

“Emma?” Duncan said, alert but not yet alarmed, since there was no tension in Jackson’s voice. “Did something happen?”

“She was never in danger, my lord, but she didn’t exactly sit in her office all day, so I thought you’d want to know where she went.”

“Why, yes,” Duncan agreed. “I’d be
very
interested in knowing that, Jackson.”

* * * *

Emma waved at the guard as the gate opened and she drove onto the estate. She parked in her usual spot to the right side of the front door and got out of the car, slinging her purse and laptop over her shoulder. Still riding the high of having found Violet, she practically skipped up the stairs.

She opened the front door and stepped inside, blinking in surprise. The big house was even noisier tonight. It sounded as if they were tearing the place down from the inside out, and not trying to be neat about it, either. Ducking her head against the possibility of flying debris, she skirted a pile of . . . what
was
that anyway? Walls, maybe. Walls that had been torn apart and—

“Look out below!” the warning shout sounded from above, and Emma quick-stepped into the former library barely evading the new layer of debris which plummeted down the open stairwell and landed on the growing pile.

“Good God,” she muttered, and peered back into the entryway.

“Emma! There you are.”

Emma did a double take as Baldwin joined her in the small room. “Baldwin,” she said, examining him up and down. “You look . . . healthy.”

He laughed at her surprise. “Vampire, sweet thing. We heal like crazy, especially when someone like Duncan does the honors.”

Emma remembered Duncan opening his wrist for Baldwin to drink. “Duncan’s blood did that?”

Baldwin nodded, suddenly serious. “Duncan’s über powerful, you know.”

She nodded slowly. Baldwin had been dying on her floor last night. This was beyond powerful. This was fucking incredible. “I’m glad you’re okay,” she managed.

He grinned. “Me, too.”

“I, um . . .” Emma searched for something to say. “I parked out front. Should I move around back?”

“Nah. Give me your keys. I’ll do it.”

“You sure?”

“Sure thing. You’re working with Louis, right? I’ll bring the keys up, but the big man wants to see you first. He put out the word and didn’t seem too happy about it either”

“He didn’t?” Emma asked, more curious than worried.

Baldwin gave her a sympathetic look. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. He likes you, so it won’t be too bad. You got those keys?”

She dug out her keys and handed them over. “Thanks,” she said faintly.

He took the keys, giving her a wink before disappearing outside. Emma stood in the relative safety of the former library for a moment, mulling over Baldwin’s warning. So, Duncan was unhappy with her? Okay, so she hadn’t gone to work and rushed right back here, like a good little worker bee. And maybe she was a little late, and maybe he’d been worried, but she
had
called. And she’d found Violet Slayton, which was huge, if only anyone would listen. Wasn’t this what she was supposed to be doing? Wasn’t that what this was all
about
?

Mentally squaring her shoulders, and kind of pissed that her good news was being trampled on by Duncan’s ego, she took a single step out of the former library, looked up carefully, then dashed up the stairs.

Duncan was on the phone when she stuck her head around the half-open door of his office. She had already started to step back into the hallway, when he caught her eye and pointed at the chair in front of his desk. Not that she had to obey him, but it would have been too cowardly to pretend that she hadn’t seen nor understood his gesture. And what was she worried about anyway? She sat on the designated chair and wished she’d changed clothes before coming here. At least then she could have slumped casually instead of sitting up straight in her pencil skirt and heels like little Miss Priss.

Duncan ignored her once she was in the chair. He was sitting sideways to the desk and speaking to someone about what sounded like the house renovations. Something about the basement and a vault and the water table. She yawned pointedly. A point which Duncan obviously got and didn’t appreciate, if the look he gave her was any indication. Gee. Too bad.

Emma was feeling more belligerent with every moment she waited for Duncan to get off the phone. Who did he think he was anyway? She didn’t work for him. Here she’d managed to find their biggest break yet, and she was being made to feel like a misbehaving school girl. And all because she’d taken the initiative instead of waiting hours for Duncan’s permission. Like she needed that? She’d built up a fine, righteous anger by the time Duncan disconnected and tossed the phone to his desk. He stood and strolled over to the door, closing it quietly.

Emma followed him with her eyes as far as she could, but refused to feed his ego by twisting around in the chair to watch him close the door at her back. She was exquisitely aware of him, though, especially when he came up right behind her and said, “How was your day, Emma?”

“Busy,” she said briskly. “How was—” She jumped as he placed his hands on her shoulders, slid them down her arms and covered her hands, trapping her in the chair.

Duncan leaned in close, his lips nibbling at her ear before he said softly, “Busy doing what?”

Emma sat perfectly still. She could feel the strength of his hands over hers, the muscles in his arms and chest as he surrounded her. His hair was loose, and it brushed against her cheek like strands of warm silk. He was the sexiest, most gorgeous man she had ever met, and if they’d had an extra hour late last night, they’d have been fucking like bunnies. But there was something about him tonight that made her primitive, animal brain sit up and scream
danger!

“Duncan?” she said.

“Yes, Emma?”

“Are you upset with me?”

His lips touched her temple in a soft kiss. “Why would I be upset?” he murmured. His lips roamed down along her jaw, skimming the edge of her mouth before moving back up to the soft skin beneath her ear.

Emma was having trouble breathing, and her heart was pounding so hard she was pretty sure he could see it thumping up and down beneath her clothes. As if he’d heard her thought, Duncan lifted one of his hands from hers and slid his fingers beneath the collar of her shirt and along her clavicle, teasing downward until his touch grazed the top of her breasts. Emma closed her eyes and let her head fall back against his chest.

“Tell me, Emma,” Duncan said, his voice a midnight whisper against her ear, promising all sorts of sinful delights. “Did you enjoy your visit to Alexandria?”

Emma froze. “What?”

“And Violet Slayton, that was very clever of you, except—”

“Except what?” She snapped upright, her body abruptly torn between the desire still thrumming along her nerves and anger that he somehow knew every step she’d taken today. She tried to pull away from him and found herself lifted out of the chair, the hold on her arms careful but unbreakable as he spun her around and glared at her. His brown eyes were no longer just warm; they were burning hot, with that bronze glow lighting them from within.

“Except that Tammy Dietrich works for Max Grafton,” he growled. “The same Max Grafton who we
know
was connected to Victor and his filthy parties.”

Emma hadn’t known about Dietrich’s connection to Grafton. Her own checking hadn’t turned up any obvious link between them, but if there was one, it was significant. He was right about that much. Not that she was going to admit it. “That doesn’t mean anything,” she argued defiantly. “A guy like Grafton has tons of lawyers doing work for him. She could—”

“She’s his fucking sister, Emma. And he’s her
only
client. What does that tell you?”

“Wait,” Emma said, trying to focus when Duncan was still holding her as close as a lover, even though he was well beyond upset with her. Something didn’t add up about all of this. If she could only—

It suddenly clicked. “How did you know about Dietrich? I didn’t even know about her until earlier today when I went through the mourner’s book and called . . . Are you tapping my phone? Is that it?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Then how—”

“I didn’t need to tap your damn phone. I had a guard on you.”

“You had me
followed?”
She pushed against his chest, but he still wouldn’t let go.

“Of course, I did. Someone nearly killed you last night,” he growled.

“You don’t know that,” she insisted. “He didn’t pull the gun until I—”

“Jesus Christ, Emma,” he exploded. “Do you have to be dead and bleeding before you’ll let me help you?”

Emma stared at him in shock. She’d never seen Duncan lose his cool like this. Not when they’d found Lacey’s body, not even when his own man was bleeding out on the floor of her house. “You
have
helped me,” she said quietly. “I wouldn’t have survived any of this without you.”

Duncan sighed and loosened his grip at last, rubbing the knuckles of one hand over her cheek. “I don’t want to lose you, Emmaline. Not like that.”

“You’re not going to lose me.” She rested her forehead against his cheek, breathing in the scent of him. “Besides,” she added softly, and looked up to meet his eyes. “You owe me hours of incredibly hot sex.”

Duncan grew still, his gaze hot and intent, but not with anger this time. “What I promised was hours of making love, not simply sex,” he murmured, brushing his lips over hers, before his teeth closed gently on her lower lip. “There is a difference, darlin’.”

Then he kissed her, and Emma discovered there was indeed a difference. His mouth was soft at first, his lips barely brushing hers, as if seeking entry. Her lips parted on a sigh, and he moved in for the kill, his mouth coming down hard and demanding as his arms tightened around her.

Emma met his demand with a ferocity all her own, her tongue meeting his in a twisting dance for dominance as she raised her arms around his neck and raked her fingers beneath his long hair and up against his scalp. He bit her lip again, harder this time, and laughed against her mouth when she bit him back with a low growl.

“Vicious woman,” he murmured, pulling her shirt out of her tight skirt and running his hands up her bare back to her bra, which opened to a deft twist of his fingers.

Emma groaned as her breasts were freed from their confinement, rubbing herself against his chest, relishing the hard planes of muscle against her sensitive nipples. She grabbed the bottom of his sweater and yanked upward, wanting some skin. He swore softly, but let go of her long enough to tug the sweater over his head and toss it aside. Emma shrugged out of her jacket and shirt all at once, letting them fall behind her as her bra slid down her arms.

“Beautiful,” Duncan whispered, and covered her breasts with his big hands, his thumbs stroking her nipples until they were firm and dark and begging to be suckled.

But Duncan had other plans. Emma whimpered when he abandoned her breasts, his hands reaching instead for her butt as he pressed her up against his erection, squeezing the globes of her ass as he pumped against her. His mouth was all over her neck, licking and sucking until she thought she’d go mad. What was it she’d thought of calling him the other night? A pussy tease? Clit tease? Whatever it was, he was still doing it—and still trying to drive her crazy.

“Duncan,” she panted.