“’Tis verra fancy,” Robby murmured.
“Oui.” Jean-Luc motioned toward a hall to the right. “The gymnasium is outside. It was the old coach house.”
They headed down the hall. A door opened and two women emerged. The first one’s purple hair made her instantly recognizable. Vanda Barkowski.
Robby jerked to a halt when he saw the second woman. A cold chill sifted along his skin. He reached over his shoulder for his claymore, but he’d neglected to bring it.
She stopped, her eyes widening. “Robby,” she whispered. “You’re all right?”
No thanks to you. Anger erupted inside him. “What the hell is she doing here?”
The woman flinched.
Vanda stiffened. “Where do you get off, talking to my sister like that?”
Robby clenched his fists. He’d never hit a woman before, not even his wife when she’d betrayed him, but Marta Barkowski deserved it. “What is she doing here?”
“We live here,” Vanda snapped. “I’m the art teacher, and Marta’s working as Teddy’s secretary.”
“Angus must be out of his mind!” Robby yelled. He fumbled in his sporran for his cell phone.
Jean-Luc touched his arm. “Calm down, mon ami.”
“This is a serious breach of security,” Robby growled. “That woman canna be trusted.”
“I’m not a Malcontent anymore!” Marta shouted with a thick accent. Her eyes glistened with tears.
“You’re upsetting her.” Vanda glared at Robby.
He glared back. “Has she ever told you how she assisted in my torture?”
“Please!” Tears rolled down Marta’s face. “I’m so sorry, Robby. I didn’t want to do it.”
“Ye were smiling!” Robby shouted, raising a fist. His hand shook as he struggled for control.
“She was brainwashed and abused,” Vanda explained. “She’s a victim as much as you.”
Jean-Luc pulled Robby back. “You two go on.”
Vanda and Marta rushed toward the stairs, Vanda looping an arm around her crying sister.
Robby glared at them, his fists still clenched, his breath hissing through gritted teeth.
“You probably set Marta back a few months in her recovery,” Jean-Luc murmured.
“Ye think I care? The woman is a Malcontent. She canna be trusted.”
Jean-Luc sighed. “She’s trying to start over and lead a good life.”
“She doesna deserve it,” Robby grumbled.
“Everyone deserves a second chance.”
Robby turned and stalked down the hallway. He’d tried for months to forget the details of his torture, but seeing Marta brought it all back. Casimir had left her alone with him to touch him and get him physically aroused, just to make Casimir’s whipping more painful. More humiliating. “She shouldna be here. No’ with the children. She canna be trusted.”
“Robby.” Jean-Luc grabbed his shoulder to stop him. “I know you suffered. But you need to give her a chance.”
“Nay,” he hissed. “She’ll betray us.”
“Not all women are like your wife,” Jean-Luc whispered.
Robby stiffened. In the years that he’d worked as Jean-Luc’s bodyguard, they’d become good friends. Robby had confided a great deal about his past. About his wife.
He’d tried to return to her after Culloden, but Mavis had rejected him in horror. He’d stayed nearby, hiding in a cave during the day and working the farm at night. He hadn’t known what she was doing during the day until it was too late. She took up with the enemy, took an English soldier as her lover, one of the same English that had killed him and his friends on the battlefield.
Robby had been forced to leave when the Englishman swore to find him during the day and kill him. He’d tried to keep in touch with his daughter over the years. She’d grown up, treated like a servant until she ran away at the age of fifteen to marry a local boy. Then they’d taken a ship to America, and he never knew what had happened to her.
Robby took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “’Tis difficult to trust women. They can rip yer heart in two.”
“I know.” Jean-Luc opened the door at the end of the hall, and an icy breeze swept inside. The courtyard outside was dark, with snow piled around the perimeter. “Come. You can work off your anger with some swordplay.”
Robby stepped outside onto the brick pavement, and icy cold air stung his face. His breath vaporized as he exhaled. He followed Jean-Luc toward the gymnasium. He didn’t feel angry anymore. He just felt weary and tired. And so alone. Olivia, why do ye no’ call me? If it were possible for a woman to be loyal and true, it would be her. He wanted it to be her.
The cell phone in his sporran rang, and he halted with a jerk. Was it her? He reached in the sporran, grabbed the phone and opened it. “Hello?”
“Robby, I’m calling from London.” Emma MacKay spoke briskly. “Something came up that I thought you should know about.”
“You have a lead on Casimir?” Robby asked.
“No, an e-mail came through the MacKay S and I website. Someone from the FBI is requesting information about you.”
His chest tightened. “Who?”
“It was signed O. Sotiris.”
His heart lurched. “’Tis Olivia.”
“The woman you met on Patmos?” Emma asked.
“Aye.” Robby grinned. If she was investigating him, then she hadn’t given up on him.
“Shall I send her some information?” Emma asked. “I could make you sound really good.”
“I’ll take care of it. Forward the request to me at Romatech.”
Emma chuckled. “All right. Good luck.” She rang off.
Robby snapped his phone shut, still grinning.
“Let me guess.” Jean-Luc smiled. “You need to return to Romatech right away.”
“Aye, I do.”
Jean-Luc slapped him on the shoulder. “Go get her, mon ami.”
CHAPTER 14
Robby sat at the desk in the security office at Romatech, frowning at his MacKay S&I file on the computer screen. What information should he send to Olivia? He could disclose some of his recent activities, but most of his personnel file was off limits.
Birth: October 21, 1719. Scotland.
Death: April 16, 1746. Culloden, Scotland.
Transformation: Sired by Angus MacKay.
There was no way around it. He’d have to send Olivia a pack of lies.
Phineas McKinney lounged in a chair, watching the wall of security monitors. “I’m bored.” He propped his feet up on another chair. “At least I have something to do tonight. I’m supposed to meet Stan the Snitch in twenty minutes. You want to tag along?”
“Nay, I’m busy.” Robby began typing his response to Olivia, using the generic MacKay S&I e-mail address.
“Are you kidding?” Phineas asked. “I thought you hated Stan. You could threaten him with bodily harm and watch him squirm. It’ll be fun, bro.”
Robby shrugged one shoulder. “’Tis Casimir I really want to kill. Stan is more useful as an informant.” He glanced up. “Have ye learned anything from him?”
“No. The Russians in Brooklyn don’t know squat. Stan and I usually have a few Bleers while he gripes about how crazy their leader Nadia is.” Phineas yawned. “He’s an okay dude once you get to know him.”
The door opened and Connor strode inside. “How’s it going?”
“Boring,” Phineas muttered. “Casimir needs to get his act together, so we can kick some ass again.”
Connor arched a brow. “When is the last time ye practiced yer fencing? If ye want to kick ass, ye need to stay prepared.”
“You want to rumble, Scotty?” Phineas sat up. “I’ll take you on. Name the time and place of your humiliating defeat.”
Connor’s mouth twitched. “Three A.M., the back garden, claymores. The practice ones, of course. I doona wish to do ye permanent harm.”
Phineas smirked. “Bring it on, dude. I’ve been practicing with Jack.”
Connor shrugged. “I can beat Jack with one hand tied behind my back.”
“Ha!” Phineas scoffed. “I heard Jack cut your little ponytail off with his foil.”
Connor chuckled, then turned to Robby. “How about you? Ye want to fight the winner? Which would be me, of course.”
Phineas snorted.
“I’m busy.” Robby frowned at the monitor.
“He’s romancing a hot babe,” Phineas whispered loudly.
“Piss off,” Robby muttered.
Connor’s eyes narrowed. “Are ye serious? Ye’re no’ involved with a mortal, are ye?”
“None of yer business.” Robby typed a few more words, then changed his mind and deleted them.
“It is our business if ye intend to tell her our secrets,” Connor grumbled.
Robby glanced at him. “Maybe ye enjoy being alone for yer entire miserable existence, but I’d like to find someone to share my life with.”
Connor groaned. “Another hopeless romantic. And for yer information, I doona consider myself miserable.”
Phineas snorted. “Show of hands. Who thinks Connor’s a miserable old gasbag?” He waved his hand in the air while giving Robby a pointed look.
Robby smiled and lifted his hand.
Connor rolled his eyes. “I could insult ye both now, but I’ll just wait till I have ye pinned to the ground, begging for mercy.”
“We’ll see who does the begging, bro,” Phineas said.
Robby drummed his fingers on the desk. He didn’t know what age he should claim. “How old would ye say I look?”
“I’d say…thirty-three.” Phineas winced when Robby made a face. “I meant thirty. Not a day over thirty.”
“How old were ye when Angus changed you?” Connor asked.
“I was twenty-seven.” Robby gave Phineas an annoyed look. “Life was tougher back then. Everyone aged faster.”
“Just make up a number, bro. How would she ever know the truth?”
Robby groaned inwardly. Sooner or later he would have to tell her the truth. “I’ll say I’m twenty-nine.” It sounded better than thirty, and he wouldn’t appear too much older than Olivia.
Phineas rose to his feet and stretched. “Well, I’ve got to grab a few Bleers and meet Stan.”
“I’ll go with you,” Connor offered.
The two Vamps strode from the office. Peace, at last. Robby went to work, finishing his message to Olivia.
Olivia arrived at work an hour early so she could continue her extracurricular research. She was still scouring the Internet, looking for any reference to Robert Alexander MacKay. The day before, she’d e-mailed MacKay S&I for information. All day long she’d checked her e-mail, anxious for a response. Nothing.
She’d called the warden at Leavenworth, and he agreed to send her a list of everyone who’d had contact with Otis Crump. The fax arrived in the afternoon, and she and J.L. had examined the list. The only people who had visited Otis were Harrison and herself. A number of people had mailed letters to him: his mother, his brother, and a few female admirers. The mother lived over a hundred miles away in Missouri. J.L. offered to go with her the next weekend to interview the woman. All Olivia needed to do was ask the lady if she was sending her apples. She would instantly know whether the mother was telling the truth.
Olivia downloaded her e-mail while she stashed her handbag in the drawer. Her breath caught when she saw the response from MacKay S&I. She clicked on it.
Dear O. Sotiris,
Thank you for contacting us. MacKay S&I is a premier investigative firm and provider of security for select clients worldwide. Founded in 1927, its headquarters are located in London and Edinburgh.
Robert Alexander MacKay is one of our most valued employees. He’s an expert in firearms, martial arts, and fencing. He has recently served as head of security for Jean-Luc Echarpe, and is currently providing security for Romatech Industries in White Plains, New York. Age: 29. Height: 6’2”. Weight: 220.
We would be hard pressed to find anyone as trustworthy as Robert MacKay.
Olivia sat back and read the last line again. It seemed almost identical to something Robby had told her on Patmos. She checked the e-mail address: info@mackays&i.com.
She read the entire message again. It was a favorable report where Robby was concerned, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d written the last line himself. In fact, he could have written the whole damned thing.
His grandfather owned the organization. He could have passed her request straight to Robby. She gritted her teeth. Dammit. Now she felt like a fool. Did he really think she wouldn’t figure this out?
She hit Reply, then typed a message. With a grim smile, she hit Send. Take that, Robby.
All day long she checked for a response. Nothing.
By the time she left work that evening, she was beginning to doubt her initial conclusion. If Robby was behind this, he would have responded by now.
Robby woke that evening in his small room in Romatech’s basement. One whole wing of the complex’s basement had recently been transformed into guest rooms for the Undead. He quickly dressed, grabbed a bottle of synthetic blood from his minifridge, and dashed up to the MacKay security office. While his e-mail downloaded, he drank from the bottle.
He smiled when an e-mail from O. Sotiris appeared. He clicked on it, and his smile faded.
We regret to inform you that we may have wasted your time. The Robert MacKay we’re looking for doesn’t quite match up to your specifications. We believe he is older and quite a bit heftier than the one you mentioned.
“What?” He didn’t look older than twenty-nine. And he sure as hell wasn’t fat. He punched Reply.
Robert MacKay is in peak physical condition!
He clicked on Send, then winced. What if Olivia had figured out that he’d sent the original message? She could have laid a trap, and like a fool, he’d jumped right into it.
He finished his bottle, glaring at the screen. She’d probably left work for the day. He’d have to wait till tomorrow night for her response.
“Damn it to hell.” Sometimes being a vampire was a bloody nuisance.
The next evening he dashed upstairs to check his e-mail. Sure enough, she’d responded that morning.
We at the FBI are willing to concede that Robert MacKay is in excellent physical condition. However, we are experiencing some major concerns regarding his mental faculties. He may not be the brightest lightbulb in the pack.
“What?” Robby slammed his bottle of synthetic blood on the desk. He hit Reply.
I’m smart enough to know when you’re toying with me, you saucy wench!
He hit Send. “Take that, Olivia.”
The next evening, he rushed to the computer. She’d responded to his last message from a new e-mail address that looked like a personal one. That was a good sign. It was Friday night, so maybe she was planning to correspond with him from her home. Maybe he wouldn’t have to wait so long for her reply.
He clicked on her response.
And I’m smart enough to know when I’m being punked! Admit who you are, Robby. This wench is too saucy for you.
He snorted. She’d known all along it was him. A grin tugged at his mouth. What a clever lass she was. It was a good thing she’d moved from her business address to her personal one. His grin widened. Their correspondence was about to get very personal.
In her tiny apartment in Kansas City, Olivia lounged on the love seat in her pajamas. A half-eaten bowl of soup rested on the coffee table in front of her, next to an open package of saltines, her notes, and her laptop. The television was on, tuned to a news channel with the volume turned down to a soft drone.
The three letters from Robby sat on the cushion next to her. She’d brought them home so she could open them in private. She spread the letters out and scolded herself for waiting so long to open them. There was nothing sinister inside. Robby had written that he missed her, and he’d given her his phone number. Simple and to the point. N
o flowery purple prose with claims of everlasting love. No threatening remarks that indicated an alliance with Otis.
All her instincts told her that Robby was innocent and could be trusted. Still, she’d feel a lot better if she could find the actual person who was helping Otis.
Hopefully, she would tomorrow. She dragged her computer into her lap and clicked on Maps. Then she checked her notes for the address of Otis’s mother.
The town in Missouri came up, and she wrote down some quick notes. J.L. had offered to drive, and he was going to pick her up in the morning. His car was equipped with a GPS navigation system, plus every other modern gadget known to mankind, so the trip should go smoothly. Thanks to her lie-detecting skills, she would know instantly if the mother was telling the truth.
Olivia clicked on her e-mail, and her heart did its usual flip when she spotted a new message from the MacKay S&I e-mail address. She checked the time. Why did Robby e-mail only at night? She’d had a good laugh when he’d called her a saucy wench. It sounded so old-fashioned, but maybe it was normal speech for a Scotsman. With her heart racing, she opened his latest message.
Aye, this is Robby. I have tasted you, wench, and you weren’t too saucy. I thought you were perfect.
She gasped. That…that…
She clicked on Reply, typed Pig! and hit Send. How dare he joke about their most intimate moment? Her cheeks blazed with heat. Memories flooded back of Robby kissing her all over and giving her the biggest orgasms of her life. Thank God she’d taken this conversation off her official FBI address.
A new message popped up. So fast. Her heart pounded. She grabbed her glass of ice water off the coffee table and gulped down a few swallows. Then she opened the message.
Good evening, sweetheart. I have missed you.
“Oh, Robby.” Now he was making her heart melt. She sent a message back: I missed you, too.
Within a few seconds, a new message appeared. May I have your phone number?
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