by D
Lachlan watched as Julia made her way down the aisle to the back of the compartment, dropping her briefcase on a couch-length seat along the way. There was a galley of sorts on the left, and on the right, a door which she opened to reveal a second shorter aisle. When she disappeared into the next compartment, he followed, making enough noise that she would know he was there.
She glanced back and pointed at the first door on his left. “Bathroom’s in there.” She kept walking until she reached a second door. “Fully equipped office. Phone, fax, computer . . . I rarely use it, so I’m not sure what else is in there. And this. . . .” She opened a door at the end of the hall. “This is the bedroom.”
Lachlan walked close enough to look over her shoulder, but didn’t enter the room. “That sure looks big enough for two, princess,” he murmured quietly, placing his mouth against her ear. And it really did. He’d anticipated some back-of-the-jet platform that would leave his feet hanging over the edge. But this was a full-size king, complete with expensive linens and bedside tables.
“In your dreams,” she muttered, then dropped her overnight bag near the door and walked past him back to the seating area.
He laughed and followed, to find her pouring herself a glass of wine. “You know, if you weren’t such a control freak, we’d have a steward to handle this,” she said.
“That wine bottle too heavy for you?”
She gave him the finger and sat on the couch where she’d left her briefcase. Lachlan grinned and sat in the seat facing hers. There was a stationary table between them, making this one of the conversation groupings, especially given its proximity to the bar.
“You don’t want a drink?” she asked, placing her own glass in a deep niche, clearly designed to hold such things while in flight.
He shook his head. “I didn’t expect you to be a nervous flyer.”
She glared at him, then shrugged. “I’m not. I just sleep better if I have a little something. Especially out here,” she added, with a doubtful look at the sofa.
“I told you, once I’m out, I’m dead to the world. There’s no reason—”
“Forget it. I don’t care how dead you are. I’m not sharing a bed with you.”
Lachlan bit his cheek to keep from grinning, or mentioning that when she finally did share a bed with him—and he’d decided she would—he’d be very much awake for the experience. Julia didn’t seem to understand that the more she resisted the attraction between them, the more she resisted even the possibility of it, the more determined he was to make it happen. He was a vampire. A predator. When his prey ran, instinct told him to chase.
The pilot’s voice came over the intercom as the jet began to move, advising that take-off was imminent, and asking them to fasten seatbelts.
Lachlan waited until after takeoff to broach the subject of Erskine’s financials. It was obviously a touchy subject for her, rooted as it was in the death of her friend—boyfriend? Maybe. Though she insisted not. But although he was curious about the relationship, it wasn’t significant to their current joint undertaking.
“There’s something we need to discuss,” he said, after watching Julia sip her wine and stare at the same page of her book for more than ten minutes without moving her eyes.
She looked up, eyebrows raised in question, her pouty lips curved into a slight frown.
It was a good look for her, though he doubted she wanted to hear that. “When you mentioned your friend who discovered Erskine’s money laundering—”
Her eyes clouded with sadness, making him add a plus sign in the boyfriend column.
“—you said he’d found a trail of suspicious transactions. You also said he was a math genius, a detail guy, right?”
She nodded, her solemn gaze never leaving his face.
“He must have kept records of everything he did.”
“Of course,” she said, sounding puzzled.
“And since he’d found something shady—possibly even illegal, depending on the jurisdiction—he wouldn’t have trusted the firm’s records to remain untouched. Especially since he knew someone inside the bank was involved.”
She nodded, her expression no longer confused, but wary. She knew what he was talking about, knew where he was going with it, so Lachlan cut to the chase, as the Americans would say.
“He made a backup copy, Julia. Whether it’s paper or digital, he kept personal records of everything, so the bank couldn’t erase it.”
“And if he did?” she said defiantly.
“I need those records.”
She made a scoffing noise. “Look, I know about your Stanford MBA. . .” She smiled sweetly at Lachlan’s look of surprise. “You’re not the only one who investigates the people you do business with.”
He shrugged. It wasn’t as if he was hiding the damn thing. “Your point?”
“You’re right, Masoud did make a backup. It was why he called me. That and—” She cut herself off before confiding Masoud’s declaration of love. She’d always known he loved her. She’d loved him, too. She still did. Just not the way he’d loved her. That wasn’t something she wanted to share, however. “He told me where they were, and said I had to get to them before anyone else did.”
“And did you?”
“Yes. There was a file, but most of the data was on a pair of thumb drives. I’ve studied them over and over, but I just don’t see the same thing he did. I can’t find it.” She looked up. “I doubt you will either.”
Lachlan couldn’t decide if he should be insulted, even though she was probably right. But in the end, it didn’t matter, because he wasn’t going to be the one looking at the damn files. “Your Masoud wasn’t the only mathematical genius in the world. Give me the drives, or copies. I have someone who can make sense of them. Do you have access to them from the plane?”
She nodded. “Who do you know who’s that good?”
Well, now he might have to be insulted. Her question was loaded with such skepticism, as if it was utterly unthinkable for him to know such an accomplished person. But he wanted those records.
“My cousin.”
“Another cousin? How many do you have?”
“More than you, I’d wager. But as it turns out, you’ve met Munro.”
Her eyes widened in surprise. “Munro? He seemed . . .”
“Normal? Dull?”
“No,” she said impatiently. “He was just so . . . martial.”
Laughlin laughed. “Martial,” he repeated. “That’s a good one. Yes, he can fight. But he’s also a fucking genius. He’ll make sense of your friend’s data.”
She studied him for a moment. “I need to be sure you’ll help me, not just take the records and disappear.”
He wasn’t a patient man. It usually wasn’t necessary. But he forced himself to reason with her. “I thought we agreed,” he said with deliberate slowness, “that we were on the same side when it came to getting rid of Erskine Ross. We both want him dead, right?”
“Why do you need the records then? You think I’m lying?”
“No.” He dragged the word out, practically grinding his teeth in frustration. “I think those records can help us shake Erskine up a bit, make him easier to kill when the time comes.”
She studied him some more, then blinked slowly. “After we return to London.”
“Aye, but you’re wasting time. Munro’s a genius, but even he’ll need time to figure out what’s going on.”
She scowled, studying him closely. “I have to think about this.”
Lachlan exhaled noisily. “Whatever you say,” he conceded, then lifted his head as he sensed the sun breaking the horizon. Damn long distance flights. They were convenient, but they sure fucked with a vampire’s instincts. “The sun’s near. I’ll see you in a very few hours.” He stood and made for the luxurious bedro
om in the next compartment. Stopping at the open door, he called, “Join me, if you dare, princess. You’ll be perfectly safe.”
IF SHE DARED? DID he think she was afraid of him? Bastard was way too sure of himself. So what if he was in there, taking off his clothes, sliding into bed. She wasn’t going to think about that, wasn’t going to imagine his muscles flexing on that broad chest and those beautiful arms, wasn’t going to replay the soft whisper of his skin against the sheets. Would he sleep naked? Probably not, she decided. Not today anyway. He wasn’t a man who trusted easily, and he was in a strange place, with someone he barely knew, and no control over where the airplane would go. She lifted the shade on the closest window and saw the barest glimmer of light on the horizon. Odd how he’d known the sun was near, even with all the shades pulled down. Must be a vampire thing.
Stop. The word filled her thoughts, as she ordered herself to cease this foolish daydreaming and do something useful. She hadn’t told Lachlan, but she had Masoud’s files on her laptop. She wasn’t stupid, so they were encrypted and under password, but she could certainly access them. And now she had a few hours ahead of her with nothing else to do. Maybe she should have one more go at them. She wasn’t a financial wizard, but maybe this time they’d make sense. And if not . . . she’d have to trust Lachlan and his cousin. The idea didn’t set easily on her mind, but she was stunned to realize that it wasn’t as foreign as it would have been only three days ago. Some part of her, some instinct or hindbrain response, was ready to trust the vampire. What the hell?
Shaking her head, she opened her laptop and pulled up the files, then sat there staring at row after row of dates and numbers in at least five different currencies on the first page alone. She swallowed her groan and started reading, but an hour later, she jerked out of sleep to find her fingers still on the keyboard and a cluster of meaningless text on the screen. Hell, it wasn’t even text, just a jumble of letters. Was there such a thing as sleep typing? What the hell had she been trying to say? And to whom? Notes to herself, to Munro?
Realizing it didn’t matter because it made no sense, she shut the laptop and set it aside, then did the best she could to make a bed of her couch. Stretching out on the cushy seat, she covered herself with a blanket, punched a pillow into shape under her head, closed her eyes, and let sleep take her.
She woke to the sound of her own cry of surprise, and just in time to catch herself from falling beneath the table. She sat up, rubbing her arm which had slammed into the wooden edge. That was going to bruise, she thought, pissed off and feeling stupid. The damn couch wasn’t wide enough for decent sleep. She should have made Lachlan sleep out here, while she took the bed. On the other hand, he was about three times her size, so if she couldn’t make it work, he sure as hell wouldn’t be able to. But he’d said vampires were dead to the world when they slept, right? Did that mean they didn’t move? Didn’t roll, or toss and turn?
Hmmm. Her brain flashed on an image of Lachlan again, sleeping half-naked in the big bed. “Stop,” she whispered out loud this time. “I’ll just move to one of the seats, instead. Take a sleeping pill and put it in full recline.” She realized she was talking to herself and shook her head, obviously more tired than she thought. Pulling her briefcase closer, she rummaged in an inside pocket for the small bottle of pills she always brought along when she traveled, especially internationally. When she didn’t find what she was looking for, she ran her fingers over the bottom and side seams, as if the bottle could hide there, then checked all the other pockets to be sure.
“Well, fuck.” Had she left it behind? Impossible. She never took it out of . . . . “Oh, shit.” She knew where it was. In the overnight bag she’d dumped in the bedroom, thinking she wouldn’t need it until they were closer to L.A. She sighed. She wanted those pills. It was either that or arrive in California looking like a baggy-eyed rag doll. Maybe not that bad, but exhausted wasn’t a good look for her. She thought some more, lips pursed in irritation. Damn vampire. This was all his fault. If he hadn’t taken the bed . . . . Okay, so she’d insisted, but he could have put up a fight at least. Of course, Cyn had told her about the vamps’ sensitivity to sunlight, so he probably preferred to sleep in a securely dark room.
Wait a minute, what about that whole dead to the world thing? She could slip inside the bedroom just enough to grab her bag, then leave. He’d never know the difference, and there were no windows that opened on the hallway back there, so no risk, either.
She thought about it another minute or so, but couldn’t see any downside to her plan. Standing, she tip-toed down the aisle, for some reason, then into the short hallway, careful to close the compartment door behind her. Covering the short distance to the bedroom in the near dark, with only the dim light from the bathroom to guide her, she stopped and put her ear against the bedroom door. Hearing nothing, she turned the knob and pushed it open.
It was perfectly dark inside, with not even the usual power lights from electronic devices to break the blackness. There should have been a digital clock on the bedside table, so he must have unplugged it, or shoved it into a drawer. Maybe he didn’t like the red glow of the numbers. She was with him on that. They’d always seemed rather hellish to her, and she wondered why they didn’t go with something soothing at least. Green maybe, or a soft white. But she didn’t worry about that for long, because her eyes adjusted to the little bit of light leaking in from the hall, and she found Lachlan.
He looked impossibly bigger stretched out on the bed. He wasn’t under the covers, and despite her rather vivid imaginings, he wasn’t half-naked, either. He was fully dressed, on his back and . . . Jesus, was he breathing?
Julia rushed over to the bed and was reaching for him just as his chest rose in a deep breath. It was so sudden and unexpected that she jumped back, feeling foolish all over again. What was with her today? She was twitching like a mare in heat. And why the fuck had she used that analogy? Just because he was beautiful and utterly masculine, and she hadn’t had so much as a kiss in months .
“Get yourself in order, Jules,” she muttered, then stood straight as she studied the vampire’s long form. He truly was dead to the world. Otherwise, she was certain he’d have woken by now. She started to turn, to grab her bag and leave, but then her gaze lifted to take in the huge bed. It had been custom-made for her dad, and was wider than a normal king-size. Lachlan had chosen to sleep on the one side, rather than in the middle, and his still form didn’t come close to taking up even half of the available space. He wasn’t even under the covers, but had stretched out on top, without even a blanket. He’d removed his jacket and boots, but that seemed to be it.
Julia eyed the other half of the bed. He’d said she could use it. And he certainly wouldn’t be disturbed by her presence. He wouldn’t even know she was there, as long as she woke before he did. And since she didn’t sleep all that well on planes—the constant noise of the engines buzzed against her subconscious—she’d be long gone before he woke. She’d even skip the sleeping pill. Even without it, she could get at least a couple of hours before they landed, and she’d set her cell phone alarm to wake her just in case.
Moving around the bed, she toed off her shoes and unzipped her jeans, but left them on. She was tempted to loosen her bra, but decided that might be stretching her luck, and so left the damn thing fastened. Then she pulled back the covers, put her head on the pillow, and went out like a light.
LACHLAN OPENED his eyes to the darkness of an unfamiliar room and . . . a soft feminine breath. He drew in the scent of Julia’s perfume and smiled. So his princess had taken him up on his dare. He lay perfectly still for a few minutes, wanting to be certain she remained asleep. He could have slipped into her mind and made sure of it, even given her sweet dreams to keep her company. Or something erotic, instead. But he wouldn’t do either of those things. He considered himself an honorable man. One who’d done horrible things when necessary to protect his clan, bu
t honorable, nonetheless.
Still, that didn’t stop him from rolling over, his pupils dilating as they adjusted to the dark, glowing softly like those of the wolves that used to run the hills of Scotland. She slept curled on her side, her soft breath stirring a lock of hair over the hand she had under her cheek. He reached out and brushed the hair back along her ear, then stroked her cheek with a gentle touch. Her skin was as soft as he’d known it would be, warm velvet against his fingertip. She stirred slightly, a smile curving her full lips while she rolled almost to her back, as if welcoming a lover. Lachlan froze for a moment, not wanting her to wake to find him hovering, but then she moaned again, and the scent of feminine arousal filled the air.