Duncan

by D. B. Reynolds

  The ringing of a cell phone had her jumping from the bed to answer it before it woke Duncan. About the time her feet hit the carpet, she realized it didn’t matter. The house could come down around Duncan and he wouldn’t wake up. As a matter of fact, the house had nearly come down around him yesterday, and he’d slept right through most of it. As far as she knew, anyway. She’d have to ask him about that.

  But the damn cell phone was still ringing. Emma flipped on the bedside lamp. The light was barely enough to keep her from running into anything while she followed the ringing sound to her phone. Except it wasn’t hers. It was Duncan’s. She stared at the caller ID. Cynthia. Who the hell was Cynthia?

  Feeling somewhat guilty, she glanced over her shoulder at her sleeping lover, then answered the phone. “Hello?”

  Silence. Then, “Who the hell is this?” a woman’s voice demanded.

  Emma’s eyes narrowed in irritation. “I think that’s my line, since you called me.”

  “I didn’t call you, I called Duncan. Where the hell is he?”

  “Asleep. Which you’d know if you knew anything about him.”

  “Honey, I know more about Duncan than you do, including the fact that he’s asleep. I expected to get his voicemail, but instead I got you. So, who are you and what the hell have you done with Duncan?”

  “A lot.For hours and hours. Deal with it.” Emma disconnected, feeling both petty and very satisfied. Of course, Duncan might not see it that way.

  She jumped as the phone immediately began ringing again. Cynthia. What a surprise. Emma considered answering if only for the satisfaction of disconnecting again, but figured the bitch would just keep calling. Assuming she was a bitch. Hell, maybe this Cynthia person was Duncan’s accountant or something. Emma was beginning to second guess her rudeness when her own cell phone started ringing from somewhere on the other side of the room.

  “What is it with these phones?” she grumped and went in search of her jacket. Her phone, which had survived all of last night’s trauma with nothing but a bit of mud to show for it, should still be in the jacket’s pocket. She had a wild thought that it might be Cynthia calling her, too, but that was only the pricking of her guilty conscience. Not that Emma doubted a determined someone could find her cell number, but not that quickly. Not without even a name to go by. She finally located her clothes and dug out the phone, frowning at what she saw there. The call was coming from her office. Or rather what had been her office until Sharon fired her. Was it just yesterday? It seemed too much had happened for such a short period of time.

  She debated not picking up. After all, she didn’t owe them anything anymore. But it might be Noreen or one of the other legislative assistants. It wasn’t their fault Sharon was an ass, or that Guy Coffer couldn’t stand up to his wife. She sighed and punched the receive button.

  “Emma Duquet,” she answered cautiously.

  “Emma, I’m so glad I reached you,” a man’s voice said, far too pleasantly. A politician’s voice. It was Guy Coffer himself calling. This couldn’t be anything good.

  “Congressman Coffer,” she managed. “What can I help you with?”

  “Nothing at all, Emma. I’m actually calling to apologize for the way things were handled yesterday. I had no idea Sharon was going to let you go. Of course, I leave staff matters to her, but if I’d known . . .” His voice trailed off, because they both knew that even if he’d known, he wouldn’t have done anything.

  “That’s very kind, sir,” Emma said, taking pity on him. He wasn’t a bad man. He simply lacked certain essential anatomical parts.

  “Yes, well, I feel very guilty about how things fell out. I’ve written a letter of reference for you, and I’ve recommended you to several of my colleagues, as well. It might be best if you pick the letter up personally, however. I wouldn’t want it to get misplaced in the regular office mail.”

  Which meant if Sharon saw it, she’d drop it in the shredder so fast she’d lose a finger doing it. Emma considered the situation. She really needed that letter, and she still had her ID, since she’d never bothered to drop it off when she left. She could make a quick run up to the Hill, grab the letter and be back here in no time. Coffer would never have suggested Emma come by if there was even the slightest chance Sharon would be around, so there was no risk of a confrontation on that front.

  Emma glanced over her shoulder to where Duncan slept in perfect stillness, perfect vulnerability. Someone had tried to kill him yesterday, and probably her, too. He’d told her last night that this house was better suited to vampires, and she knew there’d be humans guarding the place during daylight, as there’d been at the old house. She frowned thoughtfully. Jackson Hissong would be around somewhere, and she was sure he’d make someone available to go with her up to Coffer’s office and back.

  But Duncan wouldn’t like it. And he’d be right.

  “I appreciate that, Congressman,” she told Coffer. “But I’m not at home. In fact, I’m on my way back to the District right now. It’ll take me a couple of hours to get there, and then into the office. I can’t ask you to wait that long.”

  “It’s no problem at all, Emma. I came in today for the peace and quiet, and I’ve got some work to do, so I don’t mind.”

  “Well, thank you, sir. That’s very kind. I’ll get there as soon as I can.”

  * * * *

  Emma walked down the nearly empty halls of the Capitol building. The office corridors were far away from the public areas of the building, and it was the weekend. No one but the occasional staffer could be seen hurrying down the usually crowded hallways.

  Emma hadn’t bothered to dress up. She didn’t plan to be here long enough for it to matter. As it was, she’d had to go by her house to change. Everything she’d had at Duncan’s old residence was gone, so she had nothing but the gray suit and silk blouse she’d been wearing when Sharon fired her yesterday. That and her three inch pumps, all of which were in desperate need of cleaning. But regardless of his promise, she’d been afraid Coffer wouldn’t wait, so she’d stopped at her house only long enough to change into a pair of faded denims and a long, cable-knit sweater, along with some flat-soled boots. The flat soles were just in case she had to make a run for it, like if Sharon happened to show up unexpectedly. Emma chuckled at the idea and pulled open the door to Guy Coffer’s congressional office.

  The outermost area was empty. She hadn’t expected the receptionists to be here on a Saturday, but the inner offices were quiet, too. She frowned. That was more unusual, but it all depended on the Congressman’s schedule of meetings and what legislation was up when. Two days ago, Emma could have rattled off that information without thinking, but the knowledge seemed to have deserted her the minute she no longer needed it.

  She reached Coffer’s office door and knocked quietly. “Congressman Coffer?”

  She’d barely lifted her knuckles from the solid wood before the door was yanked open and the wicked witch herself stood there glaring hatefully.

  “Emma,” Sharon Coffer sneered. “I’ll take your ID now.”

  Emma rolled her eyes. She should have known. Guy Coffer didn’t take a pee without checking with Sharon first. “Really, Sharon,” she drawled. “If all you wanted was the ID, you could have called yourself. I’d have been happy to mail it to you.”

  “I don’t care about the stupid ID. I wanted to prove to myself once and for all that I was right about you. You just couldn’t pass up a chance to get my husband alone.”

  “Oh, please.” Emma groaned. “Why would I want to share Guy with you, when I can have him all to myself?” She hooked a thumb over her shoulder to where Duncan was strolling in from the outer office.

  “Sorry, Emma darlin’,” he said, giving her a playful wink. “But parking is terrible here. I should really write to my congressman about it.”

  Sharon Coffer’s eyes opened up like a cartoon character’s and she hissed like a cat. “This creature is your boyfriend?”

  “Yes,” Emma said pr
oudly, “although there isn’t anything boyish about him” She reached up to stroke a hand down Duncan’s leather jacketed arm. “Isn’t he beautiful?”

  “He’s a monster!”

  Emma cocked her head at the other woman, finding it interesting that Sharon had known Duncan was a vampire without being told. Emma hadn’t met that many vampires, but of those she had, Duncan was the most human looking. She’d never have suspected him of being a vampire—in fact, she hadn’t when she’d first met him. And yet Sharon Coffer didn’t only suspect, she knew. Emma was beginning to get a bad feeling about this. Violet hadn’t identified Guy Coffer as one of Victor’s perverted partners. But then she hadn’t known most of the men involved by name, and Guy Coffer wasn’t someone whose face was on the nightly news. Then there was the unknown woman who’d been there the night Lacey died, the woman who’d been yelling at everyone as if she had a right to do so. Emma felt a thrill of fear. Thank God she’d waited until Duncan could come with her tonight. Speaking of which . . .

  “Duncan,” she said, letting her alarm show.

  “There’s nothing to worry about, Emmaline,” he assured her, taking her hand and lifting it to his lips briefly. He’d caught the same oddity about Sharon’s reaction that she had, of course. In fact, he’d probably made the connection before she did.

  Duncan stepped in front of Emma, but didn’t say a word to Sharon. He just stared down at the Congressman’s wife, his head tilted curiously, studying her like she was some sort of peculiar bug. She stared back at him, her initially defiant stance softening as her eyes glazed over and her arms fell loosely to her sides. They remained that way for a few minutes, and then Duncan took Sharon’s arm and turned her around, guiding her back into the Congressman’s office. Emma followed, jerking to a stop when she saw Guy Coffer sitting there. Or maybe lying there was a better description. His head was cheek down on the desk, his eyes closed as if sleeping.

  “Is he okay?” Emma whispered, not wanting to disturb Duncan’s concentration.

  likThere’s no need to whisper,” Duncan said in his usual voice. “And, yes, the Congressman is fine. It was simply easier to deal with them one at a time.”

  “You guys could rule the world, you know,” Emma commented, watching Duncan guide Sharon over to a straight-backed chair near the window.

  “Who says we don’t?” he asked absently.

  Emma frowned, pretty sure he was joking. “So, what’d you discover? What do they know?”

  “A great number of tedious things, I’m afraid. As for the delightful Missus Coffer’s knowledge of and abhorrence for my vampire nature, however, that came directly from Max Grafton at a recent dinner party. Last night, as a matter of fact. Interesting coincidence, don’t you think? That as I was dying tragically in a fire that one assumes will be blamed on some hate group or other, Max Grafton was already poisoning the well to explain my unfortunate demise.”

  “What about him?” Emma asked, pointing at the apparently sleeping Guy Coffer. “What does he know?”

  “He is a pathetic excuse for a man.” Duncan glanced over his shoulder at her. “Please tell me you never entertained any romantic notions about him.”

  “Ew,” Emma said, wrinkling her nose. “A politician?”

  Duncan laughed. “I suspect Sharon here would have the same reaction to dating a vampire.”

  Emma huffed a dismissive breath. “Shows what she knows. Ask any woman, hell, probably any man, too, on Facebook if they’d rather have a vampire or a politician as a lover. Vampires would win hands down.”

  “Really?”Duncan said, looking far too interested.

  “Not your concern, beautiful. You’re off the menu. Speaking of which, what’s with all these women calling to check on you . . .” Emma stopped talking, abruptly aware that Duncan might not have listened to Cynthia’s voice mail yet.

  Duncan grinned as he crossed the office back toward Emma, his walk a slow, lethal stroll of grace and power. Emma’s heart kicked hard against her ribs, and she felt her mouth begin to water.

  “Jealous, Emmaline?”Duncan whispered against her ear. His arm snaked around her waist, snugging her tight against his body, and she nearly groaned aloud as she felt the firm bulge of his arousal.

  “Insanely, viciously, unreasonably jealous,” she hissed back. “And I know how to use a gun.”

  He laughed again, then kissed her hard and fast, and pulled away. “Cynthia—and yes, I did listen to the message and she’s very eager to meet you—is a friend. She’s also mated to my Sire, Raphael, who is Lord of the Western Territories. In point of fact, you and Cynthia are not unalike. God save us all.”

  “Hey!”

  He kissed her again, then spun her around, slapping her ass to get her moving out of the office. “Let’s get out of here before the unfortunate Coffers awake from their naps. I have a killer to beard tonight, Emmaline, and we need to prepare.”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  “Absolutely not!” Emma fumed, as she stormed across the bedroom and dropped a small gym bag near the desk. “You are not leaving me here, while you guys go out and have all the fun.”

  “This is not fun, Emma,” Duncan said with that infuriating calm of his. “Max Grafton has already killed once that we know of. I’m sure I needn’t remind you that he very nearly killed again when he arranged for my residence to burn. Not to mention—”

  Emma opened her mouth to argue, but Duncan forestalled her with a look, and continued, “—that there’s a vampire involved. A vampire shrewd enough to manipulate one of my own guards and escape detection while doing so.”

  “You don’t know—”

  “But I do know, Emma,” he said implacably. “I know vampires. I know what they’re capable of.”

  “But it won’t be only vampires out there tonight,” she argued. Louis had tracked Max Grafton to his residence in nearby Virginia through a skillful, and quite illegal, tap on the senator’s personal phones. Grafton was hosting a dinner party at the Virginia house tonight. Unlike the earlier fundraiser, or the event last night where he’d spoken with Sharon Coffer, tonight was to be a very private affair for a few friends. “Even if there’s a vampire involved—”

  “There is,” Duncan stated.

  She ignored the interruption. “—there’s no reason to believe he’ll be there tonight. Louis hasn’t heard anything that indicates this is business. It’s just some friends, so there there’s no reason—”

  “Emma.”

  She regarded him warily. Emma might be all wild emotion, but Duncan didn’t get angry, or rather, he didn’t show it. He just got quieter and colder, his words more precise. And that one word, her name, had been cut with a very sharp knife.

  “By now,” Duncan explained slowly, as if she was too stupid to understand, or maybe because it was the third time he’d told her this same thing, “Sharon Coffer has called Max Grafton to gossip about seeing me in her husband’s office.”

  “You don’t know—” Emma started, but she stopped when Duncan gave her a flat look. She rolled her eyes and waited.

  “I do know. I had Louis check the taps on Grafton’s phone, because I also knew you wouldn’t believe me.”

  Emma made a face at him, irritated that he’d been right. Again. It must be tough on him, being right all the time.

  Duncan’s mouth quirked up in a half smile as he continued. “Max Grafton, in turn, has contacted his vampire ally because he knows I’ll be coming for him.”

  “So you know who the other vampire is?”

  “I do not. Grafton’s call was to a dead drop voice mail, and we haven’t been able to track down the owner. My people have lived in the shadows for thousands of years, and we’ve gotten very good at protecting ourselves. Many of the old ones prefer the shadows even now. The point is, Emma, that the true confrontation tonight will be between me and that other vampire. No other battle will matter. And I don’t want you anywhere near when that happens. If I lose that fight, I—”

  Emma’s heart
was suddenly in her throat. It had never occurred to her that Duncan could lose. He was beautiful, strong, invincible. He was . . . Duncan. “Wait,” she said. “What happens if you lose?”

  “If I lose, and I don’t intend to, but if I do, I need to know that you’re safe. And that means far away from me.”

  Emma stared at him. She hadn’t really considered what it meant that another vampire was involved, someone who was possibly just as powerful as Duncan. Someone so set on getting rid of Duncan, someone so vicious that they’d set fire to the residence, knowing that Duncan and his vampires would be burned alive. But rather than deterring her, that knowledge made her more determined than ever to be there tonight.

  “I’m going,” she said flatly. “You can leave me here, but unless you lock me up, I’ll get there by myself anyway.”

  Duncan’s eyes narrowed. “I could put you to sleep,” he said softly. “You’d never know.”

  Emma met his gaze evenly. “I’d know,” she assured him. “And I’d never forgive you.”

  The muscle in Duncan’s jaw flexed visibly as he stared back at her. It was the only sign of whatever emotion he was feeling. “Fine,” he said at last. “But you hang back, Emma. I go in first. And if anything happens to me, you run.”

  Emma nodded once in agreement, although there was no way in hell she was going to run away if Duncan needed her. She kept that thought from her mind, though, filling it instead with the lyrics of a particularly irritating song she’d heard on the radio today.