LachLan

by D

  “What’s your point?” he growled.

  She made a frustrated noise. “Julia and Cyn were best friends.”

  “That’s an exaggeration,” Julia corrected. “We’re close but—”

  “Closer than I ever was, anyway,” Catriona interrupted. “I haven’t talked to her in years, and even then, you guys were upper-classmen. You had—”

  “Class ladies,” Julia corrected primly, then she and his cousin both laughed at some inside joke. Great. Just what he needed.

  “Catriona.” One word, but it said everything that needed saying.

  She made a face. “Fine, Mr. Grumpy. Julia can do what you want.”

  Lachlan let a smile play around his lips as he caught the delicate blond’s gaze. Her cool façade was firmly in place, but a pink flush on her fair skin gave her away. She’d caught the unintentional double meaning behind Cat’s announcement, same as he had. He blinked lazily, and she looked away, her blush spreading to the glimpse of delicate skin visible in the open vee of her black silk blouse. He’d bet the tops of her breasts were flushed, too. He lifted his eyes and gave her a knowing look.

  Catriona squeezed his forearm, having been around her male cousins enough to figure out what he was thinking. “Julia thought you were a terrorist,” she confided, shifting his attention.

  But only for a moment. He swung his gaze back to Julia, one eyebrow raised in question.

  “You have to admit, you do make an entrance,” Julia accused.

  “So does fucking Prince Charlie, but you wouldn’t call him a terrorist.”

  “You’re not exactly a prince,” she said, fighting a smile.

  “You don’t think so?” he argued, finding himself intrigued. She gave off an ice princess vibe, but there was a real person beneath those sophisticated, blond looks.

  “Prince of what?” She gave him a speculative look.

  He laughed, then turned to Catriona. “Does she know?”

  “Uh, well. I was just getting to that when you walked in.”

  “Know what?” Julia persisted.

  Lachlan gave his cousin a pointed look. She cleared her throat and said, “You know how I was talking about Cyn having a big vampire for a lover—”

  “Mate,” he corrected.

  Catriona stopped and stared at him. “What?”

  “She’s Raphael’s mate, not just his lover.”

  His attention swung back to find Julia studying him intently, those blue eyes more intrigued than anything else. “And you’re the vampire cousin,” she deduced.

  “One of many, but yes.” He said it matter-of-factly, but was still surprised by her reaction. Or lack of one.

  “Yes,” she repeated. Her voice matched his tone, but she couldn’t conceal the sharpening of her gaze or the slight increase in her heartbeat that indicated more than a casual interest.

  “Definitely not a terrorist,” he added, not quite knowing what drove him to push her.

  She sat forward. “You think vampires are immune to that sort of thing?”

  He could have told her that vampires didn’t need to terrorize humans, that they could persuade humans to do whatever they wanted, to give them whatever they needed. But that wouldn’t have been the whole truth. Because a lot of vampires engaged in violence, simply because they could.

  She continued before he could say anything. “I can name a very powerful vampire who’s the worse kind of criminal, stealing whatever he wants and killing anyone who gets in his way.” There was real pain in her voice this time. They’d finally struck at the heart of the matter. At least, for her.

  Catriona stood abruptly, her chair tipping slightly in her hurry to leave. “Okaaay,” she said with false cheer. “I’ve made the intros, so my job is done. You kids try to avoid bloodshed now, all right?” She leaned over and kissed Lachlan’s cheek, then waved her fingers at Julia. “Cheers for now. Maybe we’ll catch up later.”

  Lachlan and Julia both watched Catriona leave, almost as if they wanted to avoid dealing with each other. Which certainly wasn’t true on his part—he was more than intrigued by this Julia Harper, with her delicate blond looks and steely will. He wanted to know why she was here, and why the hell she thought he could help her. Because it was obvious to him that she hadn’t agreed to this meet out of the goodness of her heart. He turned around, hitching his chair closer to her side of the table. “What did she mean by that?” he asked.

  “She said many things,” his cool blond answered breezily, clearly avoiding the question. “To which are you referring?”

  Lachlan gave her a speculative look. If this was all part of some game on Catriona’s part, he was going to lock her in the dungeon for a year. He smiled. “What exactly can you do for me, Julia?” he drawled lazily.

  “In your dreams,” she drawled right back at him.

  He was amused by the attitude, and frankly, liked the fact that she didn’t wilt in his presence the way most women did. There was iron inside that slender frame. But he was beginning to doubt she knew anything that could help him, and he didn’t have the luxury of time. He went to push his chair back, but her next words stopped him.

  “If you want to meet Cynthia Leigh—” She held up a hand when he opened his mouth to correct her. “Fine, fine . . . you don’t need a meet, you just want her phone number. But I assume you’d also like her to answer when you call,” she added with smug sweetness.

  He stared at her. “And you can make that happen, because you’re her best friend.”

  She shrugged. “Not her best friend, but one she’ll pick up the phone for.”

  Lachlan studied her. She could probably deliver on her promise. She didn’t strike him as a woman who played games, something else he appreciated. And then there was his attraction to her. Not only physical, although God knew his body wanted her. But it was more than that. She was smart and confident and wasn’t intimidated by what he admitted was his less than charming personality, at least when he met new people. But he didn’t have the luxury of courting a woman right now, no matter how much he wanted her. Too many vampires had put their faith in him, taken serious risks to support him.

  She tilted her head and gave him a tiny smile, as if waiting for an agreement she already knew was coming. Fuck it, he thought. She could provide the inside track to Raphael that he needed, and if it brought them closer together? Well, hell, he wasn’t a damn monk. Catriona had delivered the access he needed. And if it came in a tidy package of long legs and flushed breasts, not to mention a pair of plump lips that just begged to be bitten, then he’d just have to take one for the team, he thought, with a very private laugh.

  “And what price would you ask for a simple phone call?” he asked calmly.

  She gave him a teasingly prim glance. “By price, I assume you don’t mean anything so crude as currency.”

  “Oh, aye, mustn’t be crude,” he agreed. “But you’re right. I’m thinking your price will be something other.”

  She nodded in agreement, suddenly all business. “We shouldn’t discuss it here. You never know who’s listening.”

  “Maybe you don’t,” he muttered, but continued before she could react. “I have a room.”

  “I’d rather my place.” The way she said it, the look she gave him, told him she thought he had some dank flat off a dark alley. The idea amused him.

  “I’m sure you would,” he replied. “And I’m guessing you have a plush office somewhere nearby, but I don’t like office buildings. Too much security these days, eyes and ears everywhere.”

  “I meant my apartment. I don’t have an office in London.” Her gaze sharpened. “Why would you think I do?”

  “Instinct. I figure you for some embassy type, possibly a lawyer, but definitely on the bureaucratic side. I can’t see you with a 9mm on your hip.”

  She
gave him a curious look. “Why not?”

  “No gun with you.”

  “How do you know I didn’t leave it at my supposed office? Or maybe it’s in my purse.”

  He leaned in. “First,” he said quietly, “you Americans love your guns far too much to leave them in the office. And second, I’m a vampire. If you had a gun on you, I’d smell it.”

  She blinked, showing genuine surprise. “Even in a crowded place like this?”

  “Even so, especially when you’re sitting right next to me.”

  She breathed a soundless, “Oh,” then asked, “Okay. How far is your room? And how do I know I can trust you?”

  “Not far, but we won’t be walking. I have a car waiting. As for trusting . . .” He stood and held out a hand. “You’ve no way of knowing, but life’s more exciting that way.”

  She stared up at him, their eyes locked in a silent test of wills. Lachlan didn’t so much as blink. He was a vampire, over 170 years old. A few minutes meant nothing in the scope of his lifetime.

  Finally, she drew a long breath and stood, ignoring his hand. The small rebellion made him want to smile, but he kept his face blank and gestured with one arm toward the door. “Lead on, princess.”

  “My name is Julia,” she corrected firmly as she passed him.

  He smiled at the rise he’d gotten out of her. She was far too controlled for his taste, but he was beginning to suspect that was only the surface. How much heat was hidden behind that cool façade? And what would it be like if he stoked that fire?

  JULIA WALKED AHEAD of Lachlan, out of the bar and through the small lobby of the Goring hotel. She was exquisitely aware of the big vampire behind her, could feel his eyes on her back . . . and lower. If it had been any other man, she’d have turned and given him a look guaranteed to freeze his balls. But for some reason, Lachlan McRae made her want to add an extra swivel to her hips. What the hell was happening to her? Sure, there’d been that odd sizzle of heat when their hands first touched, but that was just static electricity or something. Wasn’t it? He was a beautiful male specimen . . . Good God, Julia, listen to yourself! Beautiful male specimen? Who talked like that? He was a gorgeous hunk of sexy man, that’s what he was. And once he’d gotten over the whole terrorist misunderstanding, he’d been charming in a dark, broody way. A way she found entirely too attractive. Especially given the spark of intellect in eyes that were strikingly pretty in such a masculine face—hazel, but the kind that would change color with the light. She reminded herself that intellect was way more important to her than looks, but put it all together, and . . . well, hell.

  Of course, he was a vampire. She couldn’t be attracted to a vampire, could she? Sure, she’d heard plenty from Cyn about how close she and Raphael were, how violently protective he was. Then there were the fan magazine reports she’d read as part of her research for this trip. Reports of vampires’ charisma and spectacular sexual prowess. She’d hadn’t believed any of those, figured they were exaggerations by people who’d never met a vampire in their lives, other than the ones they read about.

  But having met Lachlan. . . . . Given her family’s wealth and the resulting business and political connections, she’d met a lot of powerful men in her life, and not only the rich ones. Money brought influence, but power was something else. It came from inside a person. And Lachlan McRae had it. His power slid over her like that first, unexpected, pulse of electricity, a subtle pull that made her want to find out more about him, to get close enough to wrap herself in the sheer heat of him. She didn’t know any other way to describe it. It wasn’t sex. Okay, maybe some of it was sex, but it was also . . . safety. She’d seen the way he’d held Catriona, surrounding her in his arms, letting her know that she was loved, despite his gruff teasing, and without squeezing the air out of her, despite his overwhelming physical strength. How would it be to have a lover like Lachlan? A big, dangerous vampire watching over her, making her safe, making himself safe for her. The seductiveness of it nearly took her breath away, because Julia knew too well how cruel the world could be. How the people you loved could be there one day and gone the next. No warning, no good-byes. Just gone forever, the way her mom and brother had been. A careless driver had wiped away their lives in an instant, then ended up burned to death in his own car, which had crashed into a ditch a couple of towns farther along the same road.

  She shoved those thoughts away, forcing herself to remember who she was—the woman life had taught her to become, the woman she’d made of herself.

  No man could protect her. They couldn’t even protect themselves. People died. Even rich and powerful people—like her own family, or like Masoud—people who thought their money or position bought them security. She didn’t want or need someone else to worry about her, someone for her to worry about. She had to protect herself. And she would. She might look like a good wind would blow her away, but the truth was far different. Lachlan had been right about her job, even though he didn’t see, couldn’t know, the truth of it.

  Sure, she was nothing but an analyst now. A data troll for the CIA, who spent her work hours in a cubicle reading intelligence reports and looking at grainy photos until her eyes watered. But when she’d first been recruited, they’d wanted her for more. Her intellect and adaptability, her language skills, which included Arabic, had all made her a candidate for field work. She’d even trained on the CIA’s infamous “farm.” Few people meeting her for the first time ever guessed at the strength hiding inside her slight frame.

  And no one had been more surprised than she’d been when they’d abruptly pulled her out of field training and stuck her in a cubicle. Their reasons had all been terribly logical, but she’d known the truth. Her father had paid off the right politician to make sure his baby girl remained safe. She couldn’t even blame him for doing it. Half their small family had been killed on that highway in Florida. Julia and her dad had both lost too much to risk losing each other.

  So she’d accepted the transfer and spent her days safely ensconced in an office. But she’d never stopped training, never stopped keeping herself strong and capable. And now, it had paid off. Because she had a purpose. It was vengeance for Masoud that got her out of bed in the morning these days, vengeance that kept her awake late into the night searching for his killer.

  So yeah. She’d get Cyn on the phone for Cat’s vampire cousin. And then she’d extract her price. Lachlan McRae didn’t know it yet, but he was her ticket to a very dead Erskine Ross.

  She was still contemplating that, telling herself it was far too early to feel even the first, tiny twinge of the satisfaction she’d know when Erskine was dead, when a big, black Range Rover slid up to the curb, surprising her into taking a step back, right into Lachlan. Damn, but his body was big. And she did love big men. As a tall woman—she was a hair under five feet ten inches—it was difficult to find men who made her feel feminine and delicate, despite her very slender build. She’d spent most of her prep school years mourning the absence of boys tall enough to date. Of course, the school she’d attended with Cyn and Cat had been all girls, so there hadn’t been too many boys to worry over. Just the occasional French lad they’d come across after sneaking out of the dorm, looking for evidence that the real world still existed outside the ivy-covered walls of their prep school prison.

  “That’s our ride,” a deep voice murmured in her ear.

  She stifled her jerk of surprise, but couldn’t do anything about the shiver that slid over her skin in response to his voice. He might use it mostly to grumble and growl, but it was a wonderful voice. Deep and masculine, with a velvet undertone that was like a sensuous caress. Lachlan McRae was probably the kind of man who could make a woman feel all sorts of things.

  In front of her, someone opened the back door of the SUV. Wondering if she was being reckless in going alone to Lachlan’s place tonight, but committed to her pursuit of Erskine, she climbed into the v
ehicle and settled herself into the backseat with prep school grace. At least until Lachlan shoved in behind her, his broad shoulders taking up far more than his share of space. She gave him a scowling glance and scooted all the way to the far door, but he wasn’t paying attention to her, occupied instead with something his driver was saying. They were speaking English, but with such a heavy Scottish accent that she could only catch the occasional word. Odd, because that accent had been completely missing when Lachlan had spoken with her and Cat earlier. If anything, he’d sounded American, with just a touch of England. She made a mental note to do a deep dive on Lachlan McRae when she got back to her apartment. There was obviously more to him than he wanted the world to know.

  His hotel wasn’t far, but traffic was so congested that they probably could have walked faster. She didn’t have to wonder why he’d insisted on driving, though. The Range Rover might appear to be a normal vehicle, but to someone who knew what to look for, it was obvious that it had been enhanced for security. She’d have bet money that the body was armored and the windows bulletproof. And that made her wonder about his enemies. What was there about Lachlan McRae that had people trying to kill him? There were the usual suspects of money and power. Those always drew enemies. Or maybe it was just a general vampire thing. Not all humans were happy to welcome vampires into their midst.

  She was startled when the Rover finally stopped at Claridge’s. He was a vampire, for fuck’s sake. Shouldn’t he be staying at some small boutique hotel with dark lights and velvet walls? She did a mental eye roll. She knew better than that, but Claridge’s still seemed awfully busy for a guy who wanted to keep a low profile.

  Lachlan stepped out when the valet pulled open the door, then waited, holding out a hand to help her. It might have seemed polite, gentlemanly even, if not for the knowing smirk flirting around his lips. He somehow knew she’d been surprised by the hotel. She frowned slightly, thinking about vampire telepathy. Cyn had warned her that some vamps had remarkably strong telepathic abilities. Was Lachlan one of those? She made a mental note to research techniques for keeping her thoughts private. There might not be much in mainstream journals, but she’d bet the government had invested in more than a few studies. It was all a matter of knowing where to look.