“Wait, how do you know this? You said Raphael’s holding company is privately owned. How do you know who owns what as part of it?”
Munro shrugged. “The corporation is privately owned, but the shareholders have to pay taxes and file returns.” He grimaced. “I’m sorry to tell you this, but your taxing authority, what you call the IRS, is as porous as a sponge.”
“My God,” she murmured. “You could go to jail.”
“Pffft. Only if they catch me.”
Lachlan raised a skeptical eyebrow at his cousin’s arrogance, but figured if the American government ever came calling, Munro could simply disappear. Legally, he didn’t exist, since he’d been born nearly two centuries ago.
“The shares in Raphael’s corporation are part of the Harris family trust which eventually passed into your mother, Marilyn’s, estate, and from her . . .” Munro paused, as if aware he was treading on delicate ground. “To you,” he finished softly.
“My father manages that trust,” Julia said softly. “I never knew . . . . I see the annual reports, but the trust includes something like a hundred separate investments. I’m ashamed to say that I focus on the bottom line. I trust my dad and our financial adviser to handle the rest.”
Fergus had been sitting quietly, taking in all this new information, but now he said, “What you’re saying, Munro, is that there’s a . . . personal relationship between Raphael and Julia’s mother’s family, and presumeably some loyalty attached to it. But if that’s true, if Raphael was so close to the family, why didn’t he hunt down Erskine a long time ago?”
“Because everyone involved—except the cops who took the bribes—thought the killer was dead,” Munro explained, speaking carefully, as if he thought Fergus was a bit slow. “Raphael must never have seen the photo. And why would he? They had the driver’s dead body.”
Fergus gave his cousin a middle finger salute. “You’re saying the accident was just that. An accident. Then why go after Julia now?”
“Too many coincidences,” Lachlan spoke up. “First, she shows up as Masoud’s executor, which is unusual enough. He cut out his family in favor of letting her handle his affairs, which put her in charge of all his files, including the ones about Erskine’s finances. But then, she joins forces with me, smoothing the way to Raphael, to whom we immediately pay a visit.”
“Exactly,” Munro agreed. “Erskine would have known the identities of the people he killed back then, though he’d likely have forgotten it by now. But once he had his hackers start looking, they’d have turned up the connection to Julia . . . who just happens to be visiting Raphael with our dear cousin in tow. As Lachlan said, that’s too many coincidences for a paranoid bastard like Erskine to handle. Too many reasons to want Julia out of the picture—beginning with what she might know about his shady financial dealings, and ending, in a very real sense, with the possibility that Raphael will discover who killed his old friend’s granddaughter and her son, and wreak his own form of justice against Erskine.”
“And we all know what Raphael’s idea of justice is,” Lachlan commented, thinking of the powerful vampire’s visit to France, in the aftermath of assassination attempts by two separate French vampire lords, and the resulting decimation of that country’s strongest vampires.
Julia sat silently for a moment, then looked at Lachlan in alarm. “My dad could be in danger, too.”
“I don’t think so, not after all this time. But you should call, just to be safe. Where is he?”
Her soft mouth curved into a rueful smile. “I don’t know. I usually don’t. But he always has his phone on, and he always answers when I call.”
“This has been a lot for you to take in,” he murmured, hugging her close enough to kiss the soft skin of her temple.
“Do you think Cyn knew about Raphael and my family?”
Lachlan took the non sequitur as an indication of her exhaustion, but he answered anyway. “No. I think she’d have said something if she knew. You two are close.”
She gave him a narrow look. “Are you snooping in heads where you don’t belong, Mr. Vampire?”
“No.” Which was the truth, since he had little control over what she was broadcasting and could hardly help hearing it. “But I’ve been alive a long time and observed a lot of human interaction. You two have the kind of bond that survives.”
She nodded. “I need to call my dad now. I won’t be able to sleep until I do.”
Lachlan nodded. “But you’ll do it from our room.”
OUR ROOM. JULIA liked the sound of that way too much. It made them sound like a real couple. She knew the moment Lachlan started down the hallway behind her. She didn’t even have to look back. It was as if something connected them on a different level. Was there a vampire version of Bluetooth? Because that’s what it felt like.
He didn’t make any noise, despite the hardwood floors, but she knew he was there. His size and strength made her feel safer simply by being in the house. Not only because he’d protect her, but because he was a vampire. Odd that she’d never thought of this before. She’d always known her mother and brother’s deaths had affected her. She’d told Lachlan as much. But she hadn’t mentioned her reluctance to let anyone into her life, much less to love them. She’d never wanted the pain that losing them would cause. Because everyone died. Everyone went away.
But not Lachlan. He was tougher and stronger than anyone she’d ever met. He was also immortal, or so close to it, it didn’t matter. She’d seen how quickly his vampires could heal, and that was on top of what Cyn had told her. Her friend had seen a lot of fighting during the four years she’d been with Raphael, a lot of horrible injuries healed.
Julia wasn’t naïve enough to believe in absolutes. She knew Lachlan could die, too. But his chances were a hell of a lot better than most.
He caught up to her, a wall of muscle against her back as he placed his hands on her hips and turned her into the bedroom. “You should get comfortable before you call anyone,” he said, closing the door behind him. She heard the heavy sound of the vault door locks sliding into place.
“Why?” She walked over to place her computer and files on the table before turning to face him. Her heart ached predictably at the sight of him. How the hell had he gotten so deep inside her heart so fast? She swallowed a sigh. It felt too much like surrender, and just because he couldn’t die, that didn’t mean he wouldn’t break her heart.
He crossed the room and put his arms around her, pulling her against that magnificent chest. “Come here, princess.” He held her silently for a moment. “It will be as painful for your father as it was for you to discover your family’s killer is alive. And you’re the one who’s tasked with delivering that news. You’ll have to bear his pain on top of your own. So yeah, I think you should take off your shoes and get comfortable on the bed, so I can be there beside you when you call.”
She let the sigh come then. There was no fighting it. The heart wanted what the heart wanted, and apparently her heart wanted Lachlan McRae. Stupid bloody thing.
“All right. But I’m not taking off my clothes. I can’t talk to my dad naked.” She felt his mouth curve in a smile against the top of her head, heard it in his voice when he responded.
“Can I at least be naked?”
“Oh my God, no. Go away.”
“No. I won’t do that, but I’ll be all proper-like.”
She didn’t believe him, but she kicked off her shoes and socks, and unbuttoned her jeans, then slid under the covers, holding up the quilt for him when he joined her. He pushed it away with muttered complaints of how “bloody hot” he’d be with “covers and clothes, too.” But he still put his arm around her and tucked her close to his body, while she opened her contacts and called her father’s number.
“Hey, baby,” her dad answered on the first ring, as he always did when she called, no matte
r how early or late it was. Until she’d met Lachlan, her father’s voice had been the sound of home, whether they were in the same city or thousands of miles apart. He still sounded like home. But so did Lachlan.
“Hi, Dad. Where are you?” It was an inside joke between them, the first question she always asked.
“I’m in London. I thought you’d be here, too.”
“I left for Scotland a few days ago.”
“Paid a visit to Malibu, too, I hear.”
She almost asked how he knew, thinking immediately of his friendship with Raphael. But then she realized the pilots would have checked in with him to make sure he didn’t need the plane when she’d wanted to use it.
“Yes. A quick trip to visit Cyn and Raphael. We weren’t there long.”
“We, is it?”
Shit. She’d known there wasn’t much chance of him missing that. “Sort of,” she admitted, her voice wavering, which earned her a pinch from Lachlan, who, naturally, could hear both sides of the conversation. She wondered if that was the real reason he’d wanted to be so close, then chastised herself with the next breath. Fuck, but she was a paranoid wretch. “Listen, Daddy—”
“Uh oh, when you break out the ‘daddy,’ I know I’m in trouble.”
“Not this time.”
He was silent for a moment, as if listening not only to what she’d said, but how she’d said it. He’d always known when she had bad news to deliver, although usually it had been nothing worse than trouble at school or a scratched car.
“Tell me what is, Julia.”
She closed her eyes for a moment, trying to find the right words, as Lachlan’s arm tightened around her shoulders and his lips brushed the side of her head. “You know why I was in London.”
“To deal with Masoud’s estate,” he said, sounding puzzled.
“Right. But in the process, I uncovered something he was involved in, and I had to figure out what to do with it, and . . . .” She sighed. “There’s no easy way to say this. The man who killed Mom and Mattie . . . . He isn’t dead, Daddy. He’s a vampire, and he’s still alive.”
Silence, then a soft question. “How do you know this?”
“I saw his picture, and, well, he’s been trying to kill me.”
“What?” That wasn’t soft at all. It was an explosion of anger. “Did you call our London security firm? Do they have a team on you? Never mind, I’ll call them. Where are you, and how soon can you get back to London? Jesus, Julia, you can’t be running around Scotland with some crazed fucking vampire trying to kill you. I won’t lose you, too. I can’t.”
It was the “fucking” that told her how upset he was. That and the pain in his voice at the end. But despite that, despite her own pain as she relived the first months after her mom and Mattie had been killed, what she noticed most was that he was more concerned about her safety than the news that Erskine Ross was alive. “I’m safe, Dad. Lachlan is with me, and he has his own security—”
“Lachlan who?”
“Lachlan McRae. His cousin Catriona introduced us when we met for a drink in London. She and I went to school together in France. He’s . . . a vampire, which is why we were in Malibu. We went there to see Cyn, but also Raphael.”
More silence. “Did you tell Raphael about the killer being alive and coming after you?”
“No. I didn’t know then. We just worked it out tonight, when I saw his picture.”
“What’s his name?” he asked in a hard voice that she rarely heard from him.
“Daddy—”
“Don’t ‘daddy’ me, Julia. Not on this. What’s his name?”
“Are you going to call Raphael if I tell you?”
It was a loaded question, revealing that she knew about the family connection to Raphael, and there was a simmering undercurrent to her father’s silence as he absorbed this new bit of information. “You and your vampire friend have been busy,” he said finally. “What’s he after?”
“Who?”
“This new vampire who’s worked his way into your life and dragged you to Malibu.”
“He didn’t drag me anywhere, and before you ask, he has his own money. He’s not after mine.” Lachlan’s chest heaved in an annoyed breath.
“What’s he want then?” her father demanded.
“Me. I know it’s hard to believe, but—”
“Stop. You know I don’t think that, baby. And, yes, I am going to call Raphael.”
“Please don’t.”
“Why? That murdering asshole killed your mother and Mattie and didn’t even have the decency to stop and check on them. And now you tell me he faked his death. I want him dead. He deserves to be dead.”
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, feeling every bit of pain that Lachlan had predicted for her.
As if he knew what she was feeling, Lachlan pulled her so close that she was half on his lap and reached to take the phone. “Let me, princess,” he whispered, but she shook her head violently and held on. This was her responsibility, not his.
“I want him dead, too,” she told her father. “We both want him dead. Lachlan, too. But if you tell Raphael, he’ll come over here and—”
“And make sure he’s dead, that’s what,” her father interrupted. “Raphael’s more powerful than you know.”
“No, Daddy, I do know. Because Lachlan’s powerful, too, and he’s going to kill Erskine—” She stopped, but it was too late. It didn’t matter that she hadn’t told her dad Erskine’s last name. Raphael would know.
“I’m calling Raphael, and then I’m coming up there, Julia. Where are you staying?”
“Please don’t—”
“You’re my daughter. The only family I have left. We’re in this together, remember?”
“Dad. Please. Call Raphael first. Just ask him about Lachlan. He’s a good guy, and he’ll keep me safe. Raphael will tell you.”
“I’m calling now. What the hell time is it?” She could hear him moving things around as he checked the time in Malibu, while she did the same, pulling up the conversion app she had already set on her phone.
“It’s already past sunrise in Malibu,” she provided. “You’ll have to leave a message.”
“Damn. I’ve always hated that about doing business with him. Why don’t you want me to come up to Scotland with you?”
Julia was taken aback by the unexpected question and surprised into telling him the truth. Or at least part of it. “It’s dangerous up here. Lachlan’s taking care of me, but there’s no need for both of us to be—”
“Let me get this straight. You’re saying it’s okay for you to risk your life, but not me?”
Lachlan was shaking his head, not at what her dad said, but what she’d said first. She glared at him. She was struggling here, doing the best she could.
“You know I didn’t mean that. But why give Erskine—” No point in keeping his name a secret anymore, since she’d already blurted it out. “—another target? Lachlan thinks that’s the reason he’s after me, because he’s afraid I’ll tell Raphael. Of course, he doesn’t know that I had no idea you did business with vampires. But it’s too late for that, anyway. Lachlan’s going to kill him before Raphael can get here.”
“You’re going to kill him?” He was either truly startled or doing a good job of faking it. Either way, she wasn’t buying it.
“Come on, Dad. That’s why you were going to Raphael. So he’d kill him. Well, there’s no need. Lachlan’s already here. And if you tell Raphael that, he’ll understand what it means.”
“Julia. This is a lot to take in. The news about that bastard being alive, the fact that he’s after you . . . give me a day to digest it all. I’ll call you as soon as I talk to Raphael. In the meantime, I’m sending some security up—”
“No, no.” She didn’t n
eed to see Lachlan’s shaking head to know that would never work. “I told you. Lachlan has his own guards, vampire and human. They have their routines. They know each other well. New guys coming up from London would only screw things up. “You go ahead and call Raphael, and I’ll wait to hear from you.”
“Promise.”
“Of course.”
“All right. Love you, baby.”
“I love you, too. Go back to sleep.”
When she disconnected, Lachlan was shaking his head and making a tsking sound of disapproval. “You lied to your daddy.”
“I did not!”
“You told him you’d wait for his call.”
“And I will. But I didn’t say I’d sit here doing nothing in the meantime. And I didn’t say you would, either.”
“Hmm. You’re much more devious than you look, princess. Should be interesting.”
Julia pondered that. Should be interesting . . . fighting Erskine with her? Spending a few months together? Longer? Why did this have to be so complicated? And why was she worrying about relationship stuff, when they had a battle to plan?
“What’s the plan for Erskine, then? Are you still going after him tomorrow night?”
“Definitely. He won’t wait, and I’d rather take the war to him than sit here and wait for him to attack.”
“I won’t get in the way,” she warned, “but I’m not going to wait in the car, either. I’m going in.”
“I made a promise, and I’ll keep it. But you’ll go in on my terms, and not with the first wave.”
She sat up and studied him closely. “Okay. But I’m trusting you. Don’t let me down.”
He cupped her face in his big hands, rubbing one thumb over her lips. “Never.” He kissed her, as if to seal his promise, then said, “You hungry?”
“Why do you keep trying to feed me? Do you think I’m too skinny?”
He laughed. “I think you’re perfect, but you’ve had a rough day, and I can’t just come out and tell you what I’d really like to do.”
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