Duncan

by D. B. Reynolds

  She nodded, not trusting her voice.

  “Come on, sweetheart. Let’s get you out of here.”

  Emma clutched the box to her chest and followed the vampire back to the truck. He helped her up onto the high bench seat, not saying anything when she refused to let go of the box.

  The drive back was just as fast, but much quieter. Emma was tired. She’d been going all day, and it was nearly one o’clock in the morning. She might even have dozed off a bit, because suddenly they were in front of her house. Emma blinked, then straightened and reached for her door handle, still clutching the memory book to her chest.

  “Wait,” Baldwin said. He double-parked, turned off the engine and climbed out of the truck, circling around to her side to open her door. “Get your keys out,” he ordered.

  Emma didn’t argue. She handed him the book, then twisted around to the backseat and shoved a hand into the zipper compartment on her bag. She dug out her keys and raised her hand, jingling them in the air where he could see them.

  “Okay,” he said and held out a hand to help her down. He gave the book back to her. “Give me a minute to get your other stuff.”

  He closed her door and had reached for the back door of the SUV when his phone rang. He raised a finger, telling her to wait, and answered the phone. Emma could only hear his half of the conversation, but it was obviously one of the other vamps looking for something at the house. Everything was such a mess there. She didn’t know how they kept track of it all. Baldwin tucked the phone between his chin and shoulder and opened the truck door. Emma shivered. There was a slight wind, and she was cold, despite her warm jacket. With a glance at Baldwin, who was reaching across the backseat, she went ahead and climbed the stairs to her house, thinking about nothing but getting inside and into her warm bed.

  She slipped the key in the lock and pushed the door open. She heard Baldwin call, “Emma, wait!” And then several things happened all at once.

  The shadows of her living room belched forth a big man, his eyes twin ovals of white in a dark-bearded face, his hands hard as he closed the few feet between them and grabbed her arm with one hand, while the other closed over her mouth.

  In the same instant, her front door crashed open to slam against the wall, and Baldwin was there, twisting her away from the stranger and stepping between them so quickly that Emma stumbled and nearly fell. The man squawked as Baldwin’s hand closed on his throat.

  A gunshot rang out, and then another, startlingly loud in the confines of her small house. Baldwin grunted, staggered through the open doorway, and literally threw the invader away from the house, sending him flying past the SUV and into the street. The attacker shrieked, the sound cut off abruptly when he hit the hard pavement and rolled into the opposite gutter.

  “Emma,” Baldwin rasped urgently.

  She spun toward Baldwin, struck by something in his voice. He was slouched over, barely standing, one hand clutching his chest where . . . “Oh my God, you’re bleeding! Are you shot?” She grabbed him before he could fall over, slipping her shoulder under his arm and puffing out a gasp of air as his full weight fell on her all at once. With her arm around his waist, she gripped him tightly and all but dragged him out of the doorway and into the living room. She tried to get him to the couch, but he pushed away from her and dropped to the floor with a moan of pain, rolling over onto his back and staring up at her.

  “Computer,” he wheezed. “Get your bags in here.”

  “My—” Her eyes widened, and she raced back to the open SUV, grabbing her gym bag and purse with the laptop inside. She closed the truck door, then lugged her bags into the house, and slammed and locked that door, as well. Taking her phone from the table, she rushed over to Baldwin, falling to her knees next to him.

  “Should I call nine-one-one? Do you need an ambulance?”

  “Miguel,” he whispered. “My phone.”

  Emma nodded as the blood in her body finally started routing to her brain once more and she could think clearly. Of course. Baldwin was a vampire. He wouldn’t want the usual medical help. She put her phone aside. “Is your phone in the truck?”

  “Pocket.”

  Emma looked down. He was wearing jeans and a pullover hoodie which was soaked with blood. She clenched her jaw, determined not to fall apart. Baldwin needed her. She patted his pockets rapidly, ignoring the blood, and found the phone tucked into the kangaroo pocket of his hoodie. She lifted it so Baldwin could see.

  “Okay,” she asked. “How do I get Miguel?”

  “One,” Baldwin managed.

  Emma did a quick survey of the phone and hit the first speed dial. It rang twice, and then an angry voice said, “What is it?”

  “Baldwin’s been shot,” she said urgently. “Twice, I think. He’s bleeding—”

  “Who is—”

  “Emma. You’ve got to hurry.”

  “Where are you now?”

  “My house. Should I call an ambulance or—”

  “No. No! Don’t call anyone. We’re on our way. Five minutes.”

  Miguel, or at least she thought it was Miguel, hung up, and Emma scooted closer to Baldwin. Yanking her grandmama’s afghan off the couch, she tucked it around him, then leaned forward, trying to share the warmth of her body, the comfort of her presence.

  “Hang in there, Baldwin. Miguel’s on the way.”

  But Emma was worried. He didn’t look good. She didn’t know much about vampire physiology, but she figured any creature with blood couldn’t afford to lose too much of it, and he was losing a lot. His eyes were closed, his chest barely moved when he breathed, and . . .

  “Baldwin?” she said urgently. No response.

  She tightened her arms around him and started counting the seconds, waiting for each new breath, holding her own and hoping help arrived soon.

  * * * *

  The slamming of heavy car doors, loud in the night, alerted her. Her head came up. She had time to remember that her door was locked and they couldn’t get in, and then they burst into the house, breaking through the lock as if it was made of paper. Miguel was first, and Emma knew it was because he didn’t trust her enough to send Duncan into an unknown situation on her word alone. And then Duncan was there, his eyes meeting hers, holding her gaze briefly before doing a quick scan of her body and back up again, as if to make certain she was okay.

  Ari came in last. He closed the door and pulled the hall table in front of it. It wasn’t a heavy table, but at least it held the door closed.

  Miguel dropped to the floor, lifting away the afghan and tearing open Baldwin’s clothes so he could see the vampire’s chest. Emma moved aside, pulling the rest of the afghan with her.

  “Emma.” Duncan’s voice was steady and reassuring, calm despite the obvious crisis. She looked into his warm brown eyes, hoping to see something that would tell her Baldwin would be okay.

  “I need you to move,” he said gently. “Baldwin needs me.”

  She realized he’d taken off the tuxedo jacket he’d been wearing and was rolling up the sleeve of his white shirt. She scooted back, then stood, wanting to be out of the way, but also wanting to know what they were going to do. Why was Duncan baring his arms? If there was surgery to be done, wouldn’t Miguel be the one—

  Her thoughts stuttered to a halt when Duncan produced a small, sharp knife and sliced into his forearm. Emma had never been one to faint, and she wasn’t about to start now. But she’d never seen a man cut open his own arm either, and it made her feel queasy. She leaned against the wall, but her gaze was riveted on the blood welling from Duncan’s arm, an arm he now placed . . . Oh, of course. Baldwin needed blood to replace what he’d lost, just like a regular human would. The difference was he could suck it through his fangs instead of needing an IV. Okay, no surprise there.

  She drew a deep breath, and then held it, her eyes growing wide, as Miguel took the knife from Duncan and cut into Baldwin’s chest. There was so much blood already that it hardly mattered, but it still made her lig
htheaded if she thought too much about actually sticking a knife into a man’s chest and slicing him open like that. She shuddered and closed her eyes against the sight.

  “Miguel needs to get the bullet out,” Duncan explained calmly. She opened her eyes and found him glancing back at her. His arm was still latched over Baldwin’s mouth and the vampire was sucking noisily on it like a child with a pacifier. “It would work its way out by itself,” Duncan continued, “but it’s very close to his heart and we don’t want to take that risk. The healing will also go much faster with it gone.”

  Emma swallowed and took a careful step closer, curiosity winning out over squeamishness. She had a million questions she wanted to ask, but didn’t want to disturb Miguel’s concentration.

  Duncan glanced back again and gave her a quick smile of approval that made her warm all over. Her reaction irritated her because she didn’t need anyone’s approval, but she couldn’t deny the way he made her feel either. She sighed inwardly and saw a smile cross Duncan’s face. Since she knew he couldn’t be smiling at Baldwin’s open chest, it had to be something she’d done. Which irritated her all over again.

  “The bullet has damaged his lung,” Duncan explained, focusing his gaze on the ongoing surgery. “But my blood can heal that. The heart is another matter. Too much damage can be fatal.”

  Miguel’s gaze shot up to Duncan almost unwillingly, as if he was too shocked to control his reaction, and then his attention went right back down to the operation he was performing. Interesting. Maybe vampires didn’t like to reveal the vulnerability Duncan had just admitted to her.

  Suddenly Miguel stopped cutting and dug his fingers into Baldwin’s chest, eventually coming up with a bloody bullet. Ari squatted down next to him and held out a hand for the slug, waiting until Miguel fished around and came up with a second one before wrapping them both in a piece of cloth and tucking them into his pocket.

  “Do you have a first aid kit?” Miguel muttered without looking up.

  “Yes,” Emma said quickly. She ran into the kitchen, dropping the afghan on the washing machine. She’d have to soak it or the blood would never come out. She reached up to the cupboard over the machine and drew down the metal lunchbox-shaped first aid kit she’d put together when they first moved in. She hurried back and knelt next to Miguel, placing the open kit between them.

  “What do you need?” she asked with some pride. She’d never used the kit before, but it was fully stocked.

  “Antibiotic spray if you have it, liquid if you don’t.”

  She popped the top and handed him a fresh spray bottle of Bactine, thinking it would numb the pain, too. But then she glanced down at the gaping hole in Baldwin’s chest and decided it would need a whole caseload of Bactine to numb it. Besides, Baldwin didn’t seem to be in any pain. He was sucking happily on Duncan’s arm, eyes closed, his expression showing no stress. He hadn’t even groaned once, now that she thought about it.

  “Can he still get infected?” she asked curiously, watching. “I mean if Duncan’s blood can heal all of this, can’t it heal infection, too?”

  “Yes, it can,” Duncan replied. “Vampires in general are almost completely resistant to all types of infection. But with a wound this size, if we minimize the contamination, that’s one less problem his vampire physiology will need to deal with and the wound will heal more quickly.”

  Miguel sprayed thoroughly, then handed the bottle back to her. “Bandages,” he said. “Big gauze pads or gauze wrap of some kind.”

  “I have both,” she said immediately, knowing exactly what was in her kit.

  Duncan and Miguel both gave her an odd look, probably wondering why a congressional legislative analyst would need such a complete first aid kit, and she obviously didn’t. But when it had come time to buy one, the ready-made kits had seemed so puny that she’d made her own and prepared for the worst. And maybe went a little overboard.

  She unwrapped several large nonstick gauze pads and handed them to Miguel.

  “Tape,” he said, not even bothering to ask if she had it. “Cut me several pieces, eight or nine inches long.”

  Emma nodded and began cutting tape, glad she’d gone for the full size scissors instead of those crappy things that came in the regular kits. As she and Miguel taped up Baldwin’s chest, Duncan finally pulled his wrist away from the vampire’s mouth. Ari whipped out a clean white handkerchief and handed it to Duncan.

  “Do you need a bandage, too?” she asked, giving Duncan an inquiring look.

  He smiled. “No, thank you, Emma.”

  She frowned, her eyes going wide as he wiped the blood from his wrist and she could see that it had already begun to heal.

  “Tape!” Miguel snarled.

  She jumped, muttering, “Sorry,” before handing him the next piece of tape.

  “All right,” Miguel said finally, sitting back on his heels. “That’ll do it.”

  Duncan ran a comforting hand over Baldwin’s forehead, brushing back his hair.

  “Ari,” he said, “Get Baldwin back to the house. Miguel and I will follow with Emma.”

  “My lord,” Ari acknowledged. He and Miguel lifted Baldwin carefully and took him out to the car, Miguel shoving the table aside while Ari carried him through the door.

  “Emma,” Duncan said.

  They were both still sitting on the floor, and she looked up from where she’d been repacking her first aid kit.

  “Tell me what happened,” he said.

  Her eyes filled with inexplicable tears, as if now that the crisis was over, her body was giving her permission to react. She rubbed a hand over her eyes tiredly, brushing the tears away. “There was a man waiting for us, for me. He was already in the house when I opened the door. Baldwin was getting stuff out of the car and he told me to wait, but I was so cold. He, the attacker, I mean . . . he came at me the minute I opened the door, and he must have thought I was alone. But Baldwin . . .” Her eyes widened suddenly. “Is he still there? In the street? Baldwin threw him—”

  She stopped talking because Duncan was up and out the door. She heard voices and ran over to the doorway to see what was happening. Ari was already driving away, but Duncan and Miguel were hunched over something in the street. Miguel stood, and she realized he was carrying her attacker over his shoulder. They walked over to a big, black SUV. Duncan pulled the hatch open and Miguel threw the man into the back, then reached in and did something to him. The man made no noise through all of this.

  Miguel closed the hatch quietly and Duncan came back inside.

  “Is he dead?” Emma asked.

  “No,” Duncan said. “But he may soon wish he was. Put your things together, Emmaline. You’re coming back to the house with us. It’s not safe for you here.”

  Emma gave him a narrow look. “I’ll be fine,” she said. “I have to work in the morning.”

  “Then you can leave from my house,” Duncan said evenly.

  “I’d rather stay here. All of my things are here.”

  “Then bring your things with you,” he said deliberately. “You are not staying here alone.”

  “I am staying here,” she insisted. The truth was if he had asked her, she would have agreed to go with him, because she really didn’t want to stay here all alone, not when some new gun-toting asshole might show up at any minute. But he hadn’t asked, had he?

  “Emma,” Duncan snapped. “Someone broke into this house and nearly killed Baldwin. You’re being unreasonable.”

  “So I’ll go to a hotel.” She saw a flash of hurt in his eyes, and her stubbornness drained away. “Fine,” she snapped in turn. “I’ll go with you. But you have to stop ordering me around, damnit.”

  “I’ll remember that,” Duncan muttered. “Where are you going?” he asked as she started past him toward the stairs.

  “I’m going to pack my things,” she said impatiently.

  “Oh.” He smiled, and she couldn’t help it. She smiled back. “I’ll help.”

  “I really don�
��t need—” But he was already past her and up the stairs, heading for her bedroom.

  “Wait,” she called, racing after him. She came around the corner as he was reaching for her top drawer.

  “Stop,” she said and hurried across the room. “I’ll pack myself, thank you.”

  “What’s in the drawer?” he asked innocently, but his eyes were dancing.

  Emma regarded him carefully. “You’re trying to distract me.”

  He gave her a puzzled look.

  “You’re worried I’m going to freak out about what happened and you’re trying to distract me by threatening to play with my underwear.”

  His eyebrows shot up. “Is that what’s in here?”

  “Yes, it is, and you’re avoiding the issue.”

  The grin vanished. He was suddenly perfectly serious as he reached out and rubbed his knuckles down her cheek. “You could have been killed.”

  Her chest tightened with emotion, her heart racing faster than it had all night. “I didn’t even see the gun. I just heard it when—”

  Duncan closed his eyes briefly, as if the thought of that bothered him even more. He pulled her gently into his arms. “Are you all right, Emmaline? Really?”

  She put her arms around his waist and held on, relishing the feel of his big body surrounding her, feeling safe and secure again. She nodded against his shoulder. “I wasn’t hurt. Baldwin saved me.”

  “I’m glad,” he murmured, his hand rubbing up and down her spine in a comforting rhythm.

  Emma could have stayed there all night, but Duncan touched his lips to her hair and said, “Pack enough for several days. It’s not safe for you here until we find out who was behind this.”

  She nodded and stepped back reluctantly. “I won’t take long,” she said without looking at him.

  He put a finger under her chin and lifted her face. “Take as long as you want,” he said seriously, then gave her a sly look. “Are you sure you don’t want help with that drawer?”

  Emma chuckled weakly. “No, I can handle it.”

  “Then I’ll be downstairs. I have to talk to Miguel. Let me know when you’re ready and we’ll help with the bags.”