Lachlan Page 5

  He rose next to her, intentionally standing close. If she breathed too deeply, their bodies would touch. Predictably, she took a half-step back, putting enough space between them to eliminate that possibility, but without looking as if she was retreating. She clearly understood body language and how to use it.

  “Let’s see what Raphael says first. If he agrees to a meeting, it’ll take a few days for me to travel to Malibu and back.”

  “Shit,” she cursed. “Can’t you just—?”

  “What? You think I’d give you Erskine’s address and send you off on your own to get killed, or worse?”

  “No, no, I just forgot you’d have to go to California.”

  “I don’t think Raphael would settle for Skype. It’s a vampire thing.”

  “I know. You’re right. It’s just . . .” Julia looked down, shaking her head in disgust. “I’ve been planning this for . . . .” She sighed. “But that’s all right. It’s not as if you’re never coming back.” She raised her head to give him a close look. “Don’t forget, vampire. I did my part, and I’ll know when you get back.”

  “You think you can track me?” he asked, amused at her arrogance.

  “You better believe it.”

  “Might be fun to watch you try. But don’t worry,” he added, his voice going hard, “we made a bargain, and I keep my word.”

  “I wasn’t questioning—”

  “Yes, you were. But you’ll learn better. Come on, Fergus will walk you out.”

  “That’s not necessary.”

  “It is in my world.”

  JULIA FOLLOWED Fergus into the elevator, wondering why she felt . . . ashamed. As if she’d done something wrong, something she wasn’t proud of. So she’d reminded Lachlan of his promise. So what? She barely knew him. Why should she automatically trust that he’d keep his word? Especially once he had what he needed from Raphael. He wanted to overthrow Erskine Ross and assume leadership of Scotland’s vampires. That happened to dovetail nicely with her own plans, but she somehow doubted Lachlan would be willing to take her along when he went after Erskine. She snorted softly, drawing a glance from the otherwise silent Fergus. These McRae vampires apparently had a lot to learn about women. Or maybe they were accustomed to dealing with curvy village maidens who blushed at every kind word and appreciative glance from the big, bad vampires.

  Whatever they were used to, she wasn’t it. But they had to understand her need for vengeance. They were Highlanders, for God’s sake. Anyone who’d read Scottish history knew that Highlanders had perfected revenge to a self-destructive art. As old as Lachlan, and probably his cousins, were, they’d have lived it several times over. But if they thought she was going to sit back and watch while they took care of Erskine Ross on their own, they were sadly mistaken. Lachlan seemed willing to do more than give her Erskine’s address and walk away, as he’d said. But she needed this. Needed to be the one who shot that evil bastard in the heart, so that Masoud’s life wouldn’t end on a tragic footnote. Maybe she was selfish. Maybe this was for herself as much as Masoud, a balm to the guilt that haunted her. But whatever it was, she would have her vengeance. And not even big, bad Lachlan McRae was going to stop her.

  She gave Fergus a polite smile as the elevator moved downward. He was a good-looking guy, too, of course. What was it Cyn had called them? Sexy fuckers. She grinned privately. That was Cyn for you. Her habitual cursing had been the absolute bane of Madame Martel’s existence. She had a point about vampires, though. Lachlan’s image filled her mind. Not just his face, though he was brutally handsome, but that body . . . and what he could probably do with it. She’d bet he’d insist on taking charge in bed. Not like the ambitious and social-climbing guys she usually dated. Guys who were more concerned with pleasing her than dominating her. She was never sure if they were after her or her father’s money and connections. She sometimes thought they should just give her dad a blow job and skip her altogether.

  She sighed. Yeah, Lachlan was a fine piece of manhood, but it would be messy. Not in the body fluid way—although she was sure that would certainly be true—but in terms of messing up her plan to get Erskine. She’d dreamed and schemed about killing that bastard, and she wasn’t going to let even the sexiest vampire on earth get in the way of that.

  The elevator door opened, and Fergus stepped out, his gaze sweeping the lobby quickly before he reached back to hold the door open for her. The vampire bellman, or whatever he really was, took over then, giving a nod as Fergus faded back into the elevator and the door closed.

  “I’m Lennon, my lady,” the vampire said easily.

  “And I’m Julia Harper, no title necessary. So ‘Lennon,’ was your mum a Beatles fan?”

  He gave her an amused look. “Lennon McRae, Ms. Harper. Born long before the Beatle version.”

  Julia’s face heated with embarrassment. “That was stupid of me. I apologize.”

  “No need. I get it more than you might think. Here we go.” He opened the front exit door to a wash of cold, wet London air, just as a dark sedan pulled up to the curb.

  LACHLAN STEPPED out onto the balcony to watch Julia leave. He’d called Lennon, wanting him to be ready for her. The vamp was another McRae cousin, albeit a generation or two removed. He was perfect for bellman duties whenever Lachlan came to London, because he looked to be no more than in his early twenties, and with a face that screamed his innocence. All of it was a lie, of course.

  He heard Lennon’s voice as the door opened, and a black sedan pulled to the curb. Julia must have ordered a private car service. She appeared a moment later, but hesitated on the sidewalk in front of the hotel, her head turned to say something to Lennon.

  Everything happened at light speed after that. Front and back doors on the sedan opened and two men jumped out, both reaching for Julia at the same time, one on each arm. Lennon gripped one of the men by his hair and yanked him away, as Lachlan leapt from his balcony. He was forced to drop the distance in two stages, too high up to be certain of a safe landing. But he moved so fast that it hardly mattered. He hit the ground just as Julia produced a short baton from somewhere, gave a sharp jerk to snap it open, and began beating her second attacker with it. Lachlan grabbed the guy she was beating and threw him against the building. Bones crunched and the guy’s head cracked against the wall loud enough to be heard over the first assailant’s yells, as Julia and Lennon both laid into him. Lennon, aware of Lachlan’s arrival, was taking his time and giving his fists a workout, while Julia joined in with her baton.

  Lachlan had thought to grab the driver, but the man had gunned away from the curb when he saw Lachlan land, and was already well down the block, with no thought for his comrades. Lachlan could have caught him anyway, but it was a busy street with too many witnesses, and there was no need. The attacker he’d thrown into the building was dead, gray brain matter already leaking to the sidewalk, but the other was still alive, and one was all he needed . . . assuming he could stop Julia and Lennon from beating the man to death, that is.

  “Enough!” Lachlan ordered, putting a punch of power behind it to be sure both Lennon and Julia obeyed. They turned as one to stare at him, breathing hard and looking more than a little pissed that he’d stopped them. “We need answers,” he explained. “And the other is dead.” He spoke with no inflection at all, as if a man’s death meant nothing. Which it didn’t, in this case. Whatever his reasons for trying to kidnap Julia, they hadn’t been altruistic. He’d made his play and lost. “Lennon, you know what to do. Fergus is on his way down. He’ll deal with the police. Julia, let’s go.”

  “Go where?” she demanded. “I have to wait for the police.” One hand was still fisted around the baton, her eyes bright and her chest heaving with effort. She was both gorgeous and incredibly fuckable at that moment. Lachlan’s cock twitched, but this wasn’t the time or place.

  “You’re not waiting for
anyone.” He slid his hand over her arm. “I don’t want you involved in this.”

  “But I am involved,” she protested, but she didn’t fight his hold. It would have been pointless, and she was smart enough to realize it. “What if they were kidnappers? My father needs to be warned.”

  “And what if you’re wrong? What if Erskine knows what you’re up to and decided to stop you before you started? That’s something we should know, don’t you think?”

  He turned her down the next street, where the Range Rover was waiting for him. He and his cousins never used garages if they could help it. He dug the key fob out of his pocket and unlocked the doors. “Get in.” When it looked as if she was going to argue with him, he opened the passenger door and said, “Don’t fight me on this, Julia. You won’t win. Now get in the fucking car. Please.”

  Lachlan thought it was probably the “please” that did it. She had no trouble bashing a guy on the head with that vicious baton of hers, but one must observe the courtesies. Women were such a strange and wonderful mystery.

  “Where are we going?” she asked tightly, as he pulled into traffic. A lot had happened since the sun went down, but it wasn’t all that late. There were still plenty of cars on the road, which now served his purposes just fine.

  He didn’t answer her question directly. “Where are you staying?”

  “You’re taking me home?” She seemed surprised.

  “Depends on where you live. Is it secure?”

  “Yes. It’s my father’s place in Kensington. It’s a newer building, with a 24-hour concierge and the latest security tech. And there’s a company I can call if I need more.”

  “Why would you need more than that?”

  “I don’t. It’s my dad’s idea. It’s just the two of us, and he worries about me.”

  “Hmm.”

  “What does that mean?” she groused.

  He glanced at her sideways, then back to the road. “It means ‘hmm,’” he replied mildly. “What’s the address? I’ll take you there.”

  “Tell me where you’re going instead. Where’d Lennon take that other man? The one you didn’t kill, that is.”

  “You have a problem with killing men who try to kidnap you?”

  “Not at all. I’m just not accustomed to handling the dead bodies myself.”

  “Good thing you didn’t have to, then.”

  “What about the one who survived? Where’s Lennon taking him?”

  “To someplace it’s better you don’t know about.”

  She didn’t settle for that. He hadn’t thought she would. “Does that mean you’re going to interrogate him?” she asked, pushing.

  “Something like that.”

  “Something like that,” she said mimicking his much deeper voice. “Look, I’m the one they wanted. I should be there. I want to be there.”

  “No, you don’t. What I’m planning isn’t entirely legal.” Lachlan could feel her staring at him.

  “You think I can’t handle it.” It was a statement, not a question, but he answered anyway.

  “I don’t know what you can or can’t handle. But in this case, there’s no reason you need to do either. I’ll give you whatever I get from him, but I need to know if it’s connected in any way to Erskine. And the human police won’t get that out of him, because they won’t know to ask.” Privately, he thought it unlikely, since the kidnappers had been human, but Erskine had used humans in the past when it suited his purposes.

  She exhaled deeply. “All right. Will I see you tomorrow?”

  “Depends on your friend Leighton. If it’s daylight when you hear from her, leave a message, and I’ll call back after dark.”

  “Okay.”

  She sounded resigned, maybe even a little sad. He glanced over. “You okay?”

  “Sure. I’m always okay.”

  Lachlan scowled. In his experience, people who said they were okay were usually far from it. But he didn’t have the luxury of psychoanalyzing Julia Harper right now. The night only lasted so long, and he still had to question the damn kidnapper and dispose of the two bodies. Because there would be a second body. Lachlan wouldn’t let the man live, no matter how willingly he gave up everything he knew. One might think a big city like London would offer lots of places to dump a dead thug, but it wasn’t that easy. These days, London’s city police were much more tuned in than they used to be when it came to vampire activities. It was always better to go farther afield, out into greater London or one of the suburbs where personal crime was so prevalent that the authorities didn’t even try to keep up.

  But first, he had to make sure Julia was home and safe. Making a final turn, he pulled up in front of a tall, modern building in Kensington. Both the concierge and security guard in the lobby took note of his arrival, and at least two cameras were recording the glass-fronted entrance. He’d have to remember those cameras for future visits. Vampires had come a long way from the days of skulking through alleys for victims, but that didn’t mean they wanted their every step to be noted. Like most of his brethren, he preferred to stick to the shadows.

  He became aware that Julia was staring at him. “How’d you know my address?” she asked.

  It took Lachlan a second or two to figure out what the problem was, but then he cursed his own lack of attention. He’d taken the location from her thoughts when she’d been answering his questions about where she lived. Shit. He hadn’t meant to do that. Or at least he hadn’t meant to let her know he’d done it. His telepathic ability was strong, but he usually controlled it better than that. Obviously, he’d been more distracted than he realized.

  “I recognized the building from your description,” he lied. “There aren’t that many newer tower developments in Kensington.”

  She gave him a look he couldn’t read. Well, he could have, but he wasn’t going to eavesdrop on her thoughts again.

  “I guess.” She sounded both tired and resigned. “I’ll call you—”

  He was already out of the vehicle and moving around to open her door. After all his talk about her safety, did she really think he was going to drop her at the curb like a bad date?

  She gave him a surprised look. “The guard—”

  “I’m sure he’s a great guy and very diligent,” he interrupted.

  She sighed impatiently and muttered, “You’re worse than my father.” But she didn’t say anything more until the security guard had the door open for them. “Thank you, Gerald.”

  “Everything okay, Ms. Harper?” the guard asked, not even trying to conceal his scrutiny of Lachlan.

  “Just fine,” she said quietly, then gestured. “This is Lachlan McRae. He’s a friend.” She gave a little wave to the concierge who’d remained behind his desk. “Welcome back, Mickey,” she called. “It’s good to see you again. Mr. McRae will be in town for a bit, so you should put him on my approved visitors’ list.”

  “Will do, Ms. Harper.”

  Lachlan was taking in several things at once. First, Julia was clearly accustomed to dealing with a serious level of security at her residence. Or at least, her father’s residence. The fact that she’d gone to that fancy French school with Catriona told him her family had money, and she’d also hinted at living in more than one country growing up.

  But while she seemed to know both the guard and concierge well, they were strangers to him—strangers whose loyalty, as far as he knew, could be bought. Then there was the lobby itself. He noted the number and placement of doors and windows, and the bank of two elevators, neither of which required a key to enter. But none of that kept him from taking note of Julia’s comment to the concierge, putting him on her visitors’ list. He hmm’d silently, not wanting another interrogation as to the meaning of his non-verbal observations.

  The elevator doors opened as soon as the guard pressed the call but
ton. He would have joined them inside, but Lachlan lifted a hand to stop him. “I’ve got this,” he said, touching the words with just enough power that the man gave him a respectful nod and stepped back.

  “What’d you do to Gerald?” Julia asked quietly, as the elevator started upward.

  “Just assured him you were safe with me.”

  “And am I?”

  He gave her a sideways glance, but she wasn’t looking at him. “Depends on your definition of safe.”

  Her breath came out in a soft rush, and her heart kicked a beat, which she probably didn’t remember he could hear. But she didn’t say anything. Not until the doors opened to a wide, marbled hallway on the penthouse floor. Directly opposite the elevator was a mahogany wood table that looked expensive, topped by an arrangement of fresh white flowers with just enough scent to be elegant, but not overwhelming. Roughly twelve yards to either side of the table were matching sets of heavy, double doors in an identical dark wood.

  “This way,” Julia breathed, then walked over to the leftward doors and slipped her hand into a niche containing a very sophisticated, full palm, biometric lock.

  Lachlan glanced at the set of doors at the opposite end of the corridor, and found a more typical keyed deadbolt.

  Julia noticed his glance and said, “I told you. My father worries.”

  He tipped his head toward the neighboring unit. “Who lives over there?”

  “Some Russian oligarch or other. He’s rarely in London. At least I haven’t seen him, but I’m not here that often, either.” She pulled out her hand and tapped in a code. The lock made a discreet burr of sound, but the door remained shut until she gripped the handle and pressed the old-fashioned thumb latch. “Come on in,” she said, as she pushed the door wider and walked inside.

  “You didn’t mention tonight’s attack to Gerald or Mickey downstairs,” he said, “even though you seem friendly with both. Why not? Don’t you think it’s something they should know?” He strolled into the penthouse behind her, noting the immediate drop in air temperature. The place had an empty feel to it, as if no one was living there.