Lachlan

by D. B. Reynolds

  “So you say. But I’ve been thinking about this. He’s awfully set on getting to you, and that doesn’t compute if all he’s worried about is what you know about his business with Masoud, and whom you might have told. He must have spies in the US who could get that information with a lot less drama. So it’s something else.”

  “What?” she demanded.

  “What if Masoud had something incriminating on Erskine? Something even worse than the money he embezzled. And what if he thinks your boyfriend shared it with you? Or maybe Masoud had a secret of his own, something Erskine’s desperate to find out?”

  “But I don’t know anything.”

  “You don’t know that you know anything. There’s a difference. You need to let Munro see those files, Julia.”

  She sighed. He was fucking relentless. Not that it surprised her. Neither he nor his cousins would have survived if he wasn’t. “Fine. As soon as we get someplace with Wi-Fi, you can send them to Munro.”

  He grinned. “That wasn’t so difficult was it?”

  “Not for you.”

  He sobered and said softly, “I’ve never told anyone that story.”

  Julia stilled. “What story?” she whispered.

  “About that first night. About how it felt, how it still feels, to be responsible for so many lives, for their hopes.”

  She looked at him, caught his gold-rimmed glance at her. “Why tell me?” she asked, as he slowed for the A9 split, and they turned toward the northwest and Inverness. It was a moment before he answered.

  “I don’t know,” he admitted. “I’ll let you know when I do.”

  Well, that was frustrating, she thought. On the other hand, did she really want to know? Hadn’t she just been warning herself against getting too close to this dangerous man? This vampire?

  “Do you spend most of your time in Inverness?” she asked, intentionally changing the subject. “I know you said it wasn’t your favorite place to live, but the city has to have advantages.”

  “True enough. I prefer the forest, but the Inverness house is comfortable and it’s secure, which is more important.”

  “Do you live alone?”

  “No such thing when you lead a clan. Especially not when that clan’s mostly vampires. Vampire instinct is to live in groups for a lot of reasons, some of which are social. Those date back hundreds of years to when we hid what we were and tried to blend in with human society. That’s not the case anymore, but the tendency survived. On the other hand, security is still a major consideration. All my vampires, whether fighters or other staff, live on the grounds. It’s safer for them. A lot of the humans who guard the estate during the day live on site, too. Those who have families live in the city, but the ones who don’t have their own building on-site.”

  Julia didn’t know what else to say. She was intensely curious about the Inverness house—which sounded more like an estate—and she was even more interested in the house—or was it a fortress—in the forest. But she didn’t want to sound like she was sizing him up as a potential suitor, so she didn’t pursue the subject. That made the remaining drive to Inverness a quiet one, but the silence wasn’t the awkward kind. It was oddly comfortable, even though they’d barely known each other a week. Okay, sure, a lot had happened in that week. They’d fought off a kidnapping—two, if you counted this last attack. They’d killed a few vampires together. Oh, yeah, and they’d had hot, hot sex. What was the line from her favorite movie? They’d “lived a lifetime’s worth,” in the few days they had together. She frowned inwardly. She sure as hell hoped they had a happier ending than the movie did.

  She looked up when Lachlan turned off A9 and headed down what she could only call a dark country road. Huge trees hung over the narrow lane, which was barely big enough for two cars, and then only if they both edged off the pavement. It was midnight black under the trees, without so much as a stray moonbeam breaking through to lighten the shadows. It could have been creepy, but with a big bad vampire sitting next to her, it was fantastic. For a woman who’d grown up around the world, she sure hadn’t done much traveling lately. Maybe she needed to start getting out of her cubicle more often.

  “Is this still Inverness?” she asked very softly, not wanting to break the spell.

  “Aye, we’re only eight or nine miles out of the city center.”

  They emerged from the tree cover at that point, the road continuing down a long, gentle slope. In the near distance, a river sparkled under the moonlight of a now-visible, clear sky, and by the side of it was a large estate house lit up with warm, welcoming light.

  “Beautiful,” she murmured to herself, but, of course, Lachlan heard it.

  “It didn’t used to be. The land was always pretty, but the house had been left empty for decades.”

  “Did you do the work yourself?”

  He laughed. “Not hardly. I’ve many talents, but construction isn’t one of them. We lived in it as we found it for quite a while. But as our finances improved, we hired local craftsmen to begin updating it, and adding a few modifications of our own design. It’s a job to renovate these old places, but it’s quite comfortable now.”

  They pulled to a stop next to an arched walkway that stretched along the front of the house, reminding Julia more of Spanish architecture than anything she’d seen in Scotland so far. The walls were pale, the roof a darker tile, and as soon as their Rover pulled to a stop, several well-armed figures emerged from the shadows. One of them stepped into the light, and Julia recognized Lachlan’s cousin Fergus as they exited the vehicle.

  “Cousin.” The two vampires grinned hugely as they hugged, pounding each other’s backs so hard that Julia could hear the concussion as their fists hit. Not wanting to participate in the thumping version of a greeting, she stood by her open door until they’d disengaged, before stepping forward.

  “Ms. Harper.” Fergus’s greeting was excessively polite, which made Julia suspect he didn’t approve of her being there. Too bad for him.

  “Fergus,” she said just as politely.

  “Where’s Munro?” Lachlan asked, interrupting the awkward exchange. “We have those financials for him.”

  “Buried in his computer, where else?”

  “Julia?” Lachlan made it clear that the next move was hers.

  She locked gazes with him for a moment, noticing his eyes were an ordinary brown, with no sign of the gold that sometimes lit up like a small forge. A tiny voice in the back of her brain still wondered if she was being played. If she’d let herself be seduced into giving him what he wanted. It wasn’t as if Munro was the only person she knew who could make sense of it for her. Even her dad could have made an educated guess at what was going on. But then he’d have insisted on turning the files over to the authorities, and done everything in his power to keep her out of it. Just as her CIA bosses would have done, if she’d turned them over to them. They would have been handed over to another division, and she’d never have seen them again, much less known how the situation turned out.

  Lachlan and his cousin were her only chance of being a part of Erskine’s destruction in a way that he’d know she’d done it, and why. Her need to do that, to personally avenge Masoud’s death, was something no one else could fully understand. Possibly because she’d never told anyone the whole truth about the complex tangle of love and guilt that drove her. She’d hinted at it with Lachlan, but even he’d drawn the wrong conclusion, and she’d let him believe it. She was no longer sure why she’d done that. Maybe she’d simply been living the lie for so long that she didn’t know how to unravel it anymore.

  All those thoughts flashed in the few seconds it took her to fish the flash drive out of her laptop case and hand it over to Lachlan. He slid his hand over hers, caressing her fingers as he took the drive, and then immediately handed it off to Fergus.

  “Get this to Munro, ple
ase. He’ll know what it’s for.”

  Fergus took it with a sharp nod, then strode into the house and disappeared. The other vampires had already faded back into the shadows, presumably taking up their guard positions after making sure of Lachlan’s safety.

  “Come on, princess,” Lachlan said, grasping her hand. “It’s been a long night.”

  She permitted herself to be pulled against his side, happy to have him there, feeling a little awkward at being the only human with so many vampires lurking about. Hadn’t Lachlan said there were mates and human guards on the estate? Were they all sleeping already?

  “You hungry?” he asked as they entered what might be called a great room in the US. The ceiling soared high, the floor was covered in beautiful rugs, and pieces of oversized furniture hugged the walls. In between, openings to other rooms arched nearly as high as the ceiling. It was an impressive room, except for one thing. There were few windows, and those were tall and narrow, reminding her of the kind of vertical aperture you’d see on an old castle. Vampires, she thought to herself. Lachlan had said none of his human staff lived in this main house, so the odd windows made sense. Not much to see at night, she supposed, and electronic surveillance would provide a much better view of hostile visitors than any window could.

  As they crossed the great room, she caught a glimpse through one of the arched exits of a large room that had to be the place where Lachlan’s vampires hung out. There was a huge, big screen TV on one wall, surrounded by furniture that was clearly suited for big men. In fairness, she admitted it would suit big women, too, but she hadn’t seen any of those. In fact, female vamps seemed in short supply. The only one she’d seen among Raphael’s people had been a pretty doll of a woman with spikey blond hair, who Cyn had insisted was a deadly killer.

  “Do you have any women among your vampires?” she asked Lachlan as he guided her toward a second broad arch, beyond which she could see a beautiful, modern kitchen.

  “No,” he responded. “There aren’t that many female vampires, especially among the fighters. That’s not to say there aren’t any at all, or that they have no power. There are still two or three very powerful female lords on the continent.”

  “Still?”

  He gave her a puzzled look that quickly cleared into understanding. “Right. You wouldn’t know this, but one of the oldest females, a French vampire lord, tried to assassinate Raphael not long ago. It didn’t work out well for her. Obviously.”

  “Cyn didn’t mention anything like that.”

  “She wouldn’t. These things are always kept quiet, but rumor is the French bitch was vastly outclassed against Raphael and tried to substitute trickery for power. There’s a reason vampires don’t do things that way, which is why she’s now dead and dusted, while he’s very much alive and still ruling his territory.”

  “What about you?” she asked, pulling him to a stop and looking up with a worried expression.

  “What about me?”

  “You’re talking about killing Erskine and taking his territory. It didn’t hit me until now what that meant. Do you have enough power to ‘outclass’ Erskine?”

  He gave her a crooked grin and pulled her against his body. “You worried about me again?”

  She went to punch his gut, but ended up caressing rock-hard abs instead. He really did have a spectacular body. “Just want to be sure you can hold up your end of our bargain.”

  His hand slid down her back, fingers flirting with the swell of her butt. “I can hold up, love,” he said, with an obvious double meaning. He patted her butt, there and gone so quickly she didn’t have time to protest. “You hungry?” he asked, taking her hand again and pulling her into the kitchen.

  Julia thought about it and realized she was. She couldn’t remember the last full meal she’d eaten. Apparently, she wouldn’t have to stress over her weight as long as she hung around with vampires. Not that she stressed overmuch anyway. “I am,” she agreed.

  “Graeme,” he called as they entered the kitchen to find a stocky man in a white apron standing over a steaming stove.

  The man turned with a welcoming smile. “My lord! Welcome home.” Graeme had a full head of black hair, a round, pleasant face, and the well-fleshed body of a man who loved food.

  Lachlan tugged her forward. “This is Julia Harper. Julia, Graeme Steward, the best chef in Scotland. Or so I’m told. Mostly by him.”

  “Och, don’t be telling lies tae th’ bonnie lassie. I’ve ne’er said any sich thing. Bit if ithers say it, weel, wha am ah tae argue.

  “We have quite a few humans living on the estate,” Lachlan reminded her. “Graeme keeps them all happy.”

  “Ah do that. How about you, Ms. Julia.” He indicated Lachlan. “Haes he fed ye today?”

  Julia’s first instinct was to insist she didn’t need Lachlan to feed her, she was quite capable of feeding herself. But she stifled that response and took the comment as it was meant. “Yes, but it’s been a while since . . .” She couldn’t remember the last meal she’d eaten. On the jet maybe? “I am hungry, Graeme. If you have the making for a sandwich, I can—”

  “Uh oh. Now, you’ve done it,” Lachlan muttered.

  Graeme gave her a skeptical look. “Ah’m sure you’re a fine cook, bit there’s one chef in this kitchen, ‘n’ it’s me,” he said firmly, then added, “Now, I’d be happy tae make the sandwich up, ‘n’ send it tae Laird Lachlan’s suite for ye.”

  “That would be most welcome,” she said, smiling, because in truth, she wasn’t a fine cook. Wasn’t even a marginally good one. Mostly because she didn’t find it worthwhile to cook for herself.

  “I’ll get on that,” he said, then tipped his finger to his forehead in a salute to Lachlan and turned back to his stove, in clear dismissal.

  Lachlan put an arm around her and hustled her in front of him and out of the kitchen.

  “Is his food as good as his ego?” she muttered, letting him nudge her into a long hallway.

  “You tell me. I’m not qualified to say.”

  “Right. Where are we going?”

  “This way,” he said, which didn’t tell her much.

  They passed a lone door on the right, which was more like something seen in a bank, or maybe a research facility where they handled dangerous things. It was sealed around the edges and there was no knob, just a very sophisticated-looking lock, which she recognized as biometric. Although it was much more complicated than the one on her London apartment.

  “Basement vault,” Lachlan said, as if that explained everything.

  Remembering what he’d told her about vampires’ daytime vaults, she assumed that was where Lachlan’s various vampires slept. The basement location was self-explanatory, and no one was getting through that damn door. They kept walking until they reached the end of the hall. There was another door on the right, this one perfectly ordinary, but on the left was a second vault-like door with another biometric lock. Lachlan slid his full hand into the reader, and the lock clicked. Reaching back, he took her hand again, then pushed the heavy door open, pulled her into the room, and closed the door firmly.

  Julia stood for a moment, taking it all in. Lachlan’s suite, she assumed, was twice the size of her own bedroom in London—a room she’d always thought was too big. Of course, she didn’t have an enormous four-poster bed, or yet another stone fireplace that had probably seen animals roasted whole back in the day. She turned and gave him a skeptical look.

  “We do have guest quarters, if you’d prefer,” he said, with a half-grin that told her he didn’t think she would. She was tempted by that confident grin to take him up on his offer. She had a feeling Lachlan McRae was altogether too accustomed to getting what he wanted. But since she really didn’t want to spend the night in a lonely guest bed, she’d be punishing herself along with him, and she’d never been one for self-flagellat
ion.

  “This is fine,” she said pleasantly, then added. “But where are you sleeping?”

  “Aye. Good one.”

  Julia wandered farther into the room, admiring beautifully carved furniture of a gorgeous mahogany with deep-red low lights. The four-poster didn’t have a canopy, for which she was grateful. Every time she saw one of those, all she could think of was the dust it must accumulate and where that dust ended up. Yuck. The bedding, on the other hand, was a bold and beautiful blue, matched by heavy drapes on all the windows. Curious about the grounds, she walked over to one of the windows and pulled the drape back . . . only to find a wall. She turned a found him watching her.

  “I’m a vampire,” he said, by way of explanation. “There are shutters that close down all the other windows automatically, synced to a GPS that knows the solar calendar. But there are no windows past that first door to the basement vault.”

  “How do they like sleeping in the basement?”

  “Don’t worry. It’s very comfortable, and they each have a private room.”

  “Then why are you up here, instead?”

  He shrugged. “I like it, and I’m just as well protected.”

  Julia knew there was probably more to it than that, but figured that story could wait. “I like it, too,” she agreed. “It makes a statement. What’s with the giant fireplace?”

  “It gets cold here,” he protested.

  Julia laughed. “I don’t smell smoke. Is it wood-burning?”

  He walked over and pressed a small switch on the wall. The electric igniter clicked briefly, and fire flared around a huge set of ceramic logs that were as close to real as she’d ever seen. Flames filled the big fireplace, giving off almost too much heat. As if he’d noticed her reaction, he did something at the switch and lowered the fire to a level that warmed the room without cooking the inhabitants.