“You guys could rule the world, you know,” Emma commented, watching Duncan guide Sharon over to a straight-backed chair near the window.
“Who says we don’t?” he asked absently.
Emma frowned, pretty sure he was joking. “So, what’d you discover? What do they know?”
“A great number of tedious things, I’m afraid. As for the delightful Missus Coffer’s knowledge of and abhorrence for my vampire nature, however, that came directly from Max Grafton at a recent dinner party. Last night, as a matter of fact. Interesting coincidence, don’t you think? That as I was dying tragically in a fire that one assumes will be blamed on some hate group or other, Max Grafton was already poisoning the well to explain my unfortunate demise.”
“What about him?” Emma asked, pointing at the apparently sleeping Guy Coffer. “What does he know?”
“He is a pathetic excuse for a man.” Duncan glanced over his shoulder at her. “Please tell me you never entertained any romantic notions about him.”
“Ew,” Emma said, wrinkling her nose. “A politician?”
Duncan laughed. “I suspect Sharon here would have the same reaction to dating a vampire.”
Emma huffed a dismissive breath. “Shows what she knows. Ask any woman, hell, probably any man, too, on Facebook if they’d rather have a vampire or a politician as a lover. Vampires would win hands down.”
“Really?”Duncan said, looking far too interested.
“Not your concern, beautiful. You’re off the menu. Speaking of which, what’s with all these women calling to check on you . . .” Emma stopped talking, abruptly aware that Duncan might not have listened to Cynthia’s voice mail yet.
Duncan grinned as he crossed the office back toward Emma, his walk a slow, lethal stroll of grace and power. Emma’s heart kicked hard against her ribs, and she felt her mouth begin to water.
“Jealous, Emmaline?”Duncan whispered against her ear. His arm snaked around her waist, snugging her tight against his body, and she nearly groaned aloud as she felt the firm bulge of his arousal.
“Insanely, viciously, unreasonably jealous,” she hissed back. “And I know how to use a gun.”
He laughed again, then kissed her hard and fast, and pulled away. “Cynthia—and yes, I did listen to the message and she’s very eager to meet you—is a friend. She’s also mated to my Sire, Raphael, who is Lord of the Western Territories. In point of fact, you and Cynthia are not unalike. God save us all.”
“Hey!”
He kissed her again, then spun her around, slapping her ass to get her moving out of the office. “Let’s get out of here before the unfortunate Coffers awake from their naps. I have a killer to beard tonight, Emmaline, and we need to prepare.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
“Absolutely not!” Emma fumed, as she stormed across the bedroom and dropped a small gym bag near the desk. “You are not leaving me here, while you guys go out and have all the fun.”
“This is not fun, Emma,” Duncan said with that infuriating calm of his. “Max Grafton has already killed once that we know of. I’m sure I needn’t remind you that he very nearly killed again when he arranged for my residence to burn. Not to mention—”
Emma opened her mouth to argue, but Duncan forestalled her with a look, and continued, “—that there’s a vampire involved. A vampire shrewd enough to manipulate one of my own guards and escape detection while doing so.”
“You don’t know—”
“But I do know, Emma,” he said implacably. “I know vampires. I know what they’re capable of.”
“But it won’t be only vampires out there tonight,” she argued. Louis had tracked Max Grafton to his residence in nearby Virginia through a skillful, and quite illegal, tap on the senator’s personal phones. Grafton was hosting a dinner party at the Virginia house tonight. Unlike the earlier fundraiser, or the event last night where he’d spoken with Sharon Coffer, tonight was to be a very private affair for a few friends. “Even if there’s a vampire involved—”
“There is,” Duncan stated.
She ignored the interruption. “—there’s no reason to believe he’ll be there tonight. Louis hasn’t heard anything that indicates this is business. It’s just some friends, so there there’s no reason—”
“Emma.”
She regarded him warily. Emma might be all wild emotion, but Duncan didn’t get angry, or rather, he didn’t show it. He just got quieter and colder, his words more precise. And that one word, her name, had been cut with a very sharp knife.
“By now,” Duncan explained slowly, as if she was too stupid to understand, or maybe because it was the third time he’d told her this same thing, “Sharon Coffer has called Max Grafton to gossip about seeing me in her husband’s office.”
“You don’t know—” Emma started, but she stopped when Duncan gave her a flat look. She rolled her eyes and waited.
“I do know. I had Louis check the taps on Grafton’s phone, because I also knew you wouldn’t believe me.”
Emma made a face at him, irritated that he’d been right. Again. It must be tough on him, being right all the time.
Duncan’s mouth quirked up in a half smile as he continued. “Max Grafton, in turn, has contacted his vampire ally because he knows I’ll be coming for him.”
“So you know who the other vampire is?”
“I do not. Grafton’s call was to a dead drop voice mail, and we haven’t been able to track down the owner. My people have lived in the shadows for thousands of years, and we’ve gotten very good at protecting ourselves. Many of the old ones prefer the shadows even now. The point is, Emma, that the true confrontation tonight will be between me and that other vampire. No other battle will matter. And I don’t want you anywhere near when that happens. If I lose that fight, I—”
Emma’s heart was suddenly in her throat. It had never occurred to her that Duncan could lose. He was beautiful, strong, invincible. He was . . . Duncan. “Wait,” she said. “What happens if you lose?”
“If I lose, and I don’t intend to, but if I do, I need to know that you’re safe. And that means far away from me.”
Emma stared at him. She hadn’t really considered what it meant that another vampire was involved, someone who was possibly just as powerful as Duncan. Someone so set on getting rid of Duncan, someone so vicious that they’d set fire to the residence, knowing that Duncan and his vampires would be burned alive. But rather than deterring her, that knowledge made her more determined than ever to be there tonight.
“I’m going,” she said flatly. “You can leave me here, but unless you lock me up, I’ll get there by myself anyway.”
Duncan’s eyes narrowed. “I could put you to sleep,” he said softly. “You’d never know.”
Emma met his gaze evenly. “I’d know,” she assured him. “And I’d never forgive you.”
The muscle in Duncan’s jaw flexed visibly as he stared back at her. It was the only sign of whatever emotion he was feeling. “Fine,” he said at last. “But you hang back, Emma. I go in first. And if anything happens to me, you run.”
Emma nodded once in agreement, although there was no way in hell she was going to run away if Duncan needed her. She kept that thought from her mind, though, filling it instead with the lyrics of a particularly irritating song she’d heard on the radio today.
“So, when are we leaving?” she asked.
Duncan regarded her carefully, and Emma would have sworn she saw a flash of frustration in his brown eyes. So maybe the song lyrics were working to block him from hearing what she was thinking. She filed that information away for the future and gazed at him innocently. He snorted dismissively and said, “Be downstairs in ten minutes. I have to check some things with Miguel and Louis.”
He started to turn, but Emma said, “Hey!” Duncan raised an eyebrow in question. “How about a kiss for luck.”
Duncan grinned and wrapped one big hand around the back of her neck, pulling her in for a deep, satisfying, toe-curling kiss. He lifted his head at last, gliding his tongue along the seam of her lips.
“I love you, Emmaline Duquet.”
“I love you, too, Duncan. So you be careful.”
He touched his mouth to hers one more time, and then he was gone. Emma listened, but she didn’t even hear his footsteps on the stairs. She shrugged and hurried over to the duffle bag, which was the only other thing she’d picked up at her house earlier. It held her gun and ammo, and she had a feeling she was going to need them tonight.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Max Grafton’s house wasn’t so much a house as an estate. Emma had known he had money. Most senators did by the time they’d been around as long as Grafton had. But in his case, the money was in his family. Old money. Old Southern money. As someone who grew up in old Southern poverty, Emma knew exactly what a difference that kind of money meant. Still, she hadn’t been prepared for the vastness of his estate. There was the house itself, which was huge, along with a second two-story building that she guessed was where the household staff lived, because with a house as big as his, he’d definitely need live-in help. There was a pool, and a pool house big enough to house a family. And then there were the stables. Emma didn’t know much about horses, but if even half of the stalls she could see in the long horse barn contained animals, it had to be costing Grafton a small fortune to feed and maintain them.
The whole estate was too big to put a wall around, but there was a white rail fence along the road, and Grafton had walled off the main buildings and barns. A short gravel drive took them to a big iron gate with a stylized “G” worked into it. Two guards wearing black combat gear stood there, each cradling a matte black semiautomatic with obvious familiarity. Emma worried as their two matching SUVs rode up to the gate, wondering how they’d talk their way in, but she shouldn’t have. After all, she’d seen Duncan zap Sharon Coffer with a look. Ari, who was driving Duncan’s SUV, convinced the gate guard they were invited guests in less time than it probably would have taken to show their IDs if they really had been invited.
