So why didn’t it feel that way?
Chapter Twenty-one
One month later
Lucas threw the phone down, ignoring the cracking sound as it hit his desk. What was that, the eighth one he’d destroyed this month? Who cared? Maybe someone needed to find him a fucking cell phone that didn’t shatter at every little bounce.
“Nicholas!” he roared.
The hallway door popped open, and Nick stuck his head in. “Sire?”
Lucas glowered at his lieutenant. Why the fuck was he standing out there in the first place? He’d been doing more and more of that lately, lurking in the hall instead of staying in here where he belonged.
“What the fuck is going on in Topeka? Emmett just called to complain about zoning on the new compound.”
“Emmett keeps trying to save money by shorting bribes.”
“Well, why the hell is he calling me about it?”
“I’ll handle it, my lord.”
“Someone better,” Lucas grumbled.
“Yes, my lord. Is there anything else?”
Lucas gave him a scowling glance. “No.”
Nick ducked back into the hallway and closed the door almost before Lucas finished that single syllable. What the fuck was that? He slumped down in his chair and stared moodily at the empty room. Where was everybody? His eye fell on the pictures of Ireland, the ones he used to love before . . .
He stood suddenly, grabbed the already broken cell phone from his desk, and hurled it across the room where it hit the wall with a pleasing smack, leaving a phone-sized divot in the plaster. That wasn’t the first one either.
Lucas stared at the pockmarked wall. What the hell was he doing?
“Nicholas,” he bellowed once more.
Same thing. The door popped opened, and Nick’s head appeared. “Sire?”
Lucas studied him through narrowed eyes, then sighed. “Get the jet ready. We’re going to Virginia.”
Nick blew out a dramatic breath. “About fucking time, my lord.”
Lucas would have thrown something at him, but there was nothing left to throw. And Nick was already gone. Smart vampire.
Sitting once again behind his desk, Lucas swiveled his chair to the credenza and reached for the bat phone, since he’d just destroyed his current cell. Punching the desired button, he listened to the call ring twice on the other side of the country before it was answered.
“Lucas.”
“Duncan,” Lucas said. “I have a favor to ask.”
* * * *
Quantico, Virginia
Kathryn scanned the empty apartment, looking for anything she might have missed. She’d already gone through every drawer and closet at least three times. Had already swept and vacuumed until the place was far cleaner than when she first moved in. Her landlord wouldn’t even have to dust before renting it out again. Not that he’d return her cleaning fee anyway, but it went against her nature to leave it dirty.
She picked up the small box of belongings that was the only thing left. It contained her answering machine and a small lamp, plus the few pieces of mail that had somehow slipped past the change of address she’d filed at the post office. It was mostly junk mail, but it had her name and address on it, and she knew too much about identity fraud to leave it behind. Apparently, her OCD tendencies were in full bloom. It was the stress. She hoped getting out of here tonight would help with that.
Holding the box on one hip, she opened the front door, did a final visual check of the place she’d called home for almost three years, then closed and locked the door. She’d mail the keys back to her landlord on her way by the post office tonight. She had a small Priority Mail box all ready to go—addressed, stamped, bubble packed so the keys wouldn’t rattle . . . yep, her compulsions were definitely running the show.
Her apartment was on the third floor, so she took the stairs. The only time she’d ever used the elevator was the day she’d first moved in and yesterday to move out. The stairs were good exercise, and besides, anything that tired her out was a good thing lately. She wasn’t sleeping well, either.
The fresh air felt good on her face when she opened the outside security door. She waited until she heard the door click shut behind her, then leaned over and checked to be sure her landlord had removed her name from the list of residents. He had. She snugged the box closer and straightened up when a car door slammed on the street behind her. She turned, registered the fact that the engine was still running, and her hand went automatically to the Glock 23 still clipped to her belt. It was late, and she’d come directly from the office, making a final stop before . . .
“Kathryn.”
Kathryn’s breath caught in her chest, and she hugged the box so closely against her hip that it hurt.
“Lucas?”
“You don’t recognize me?” he teased, reaching out to take the box from her.
She relinquished it to him, even though it weighed nothing. She was too stunned at finding him on her doorstep to do anything else.
“What are you doing here?” she asked. “I thought you couldn’t . . . I mean . . .”
Lucas lifted one shoulder dismissively. “Duncan’s a friend. He made an exception . . . for one night,” he added.
“But why—” Kathryn heard herself stumbling over her words, but couldn’t seem to stop.
“I missed you,” he said, his beautiful golden eyes meeting her gaze evenly. “You said we could visit, so I thought—”
“But I’m moving,” she blurted. “I’m leaving tomorrow.”
Lucas frowned. “Moving where?” He took an aggressive step forward. “And with whom?” he demanded.
Kathryn nearly laughed at his outraged assumption that she had taken up with someone new. She’d barely slept in a month because she missed him so much, and he thought she was moving in with her new lover.
She didn’t laugh, though. She couldn’t. Not when he was standing in front of her at last, looking so delicious she wanted to weep.
“Turns out I was wrong,” she whispered, her eyes greedily drinking in the sight of him standing on her front walk. “I do want my life turned on its side.”
Lucas gave her a puzzled look.
His face blurred as tears filled her eyes. “I’m moving to Minneapolis,” she explained. “I requested a transfer. Seems there aren’t too many agents vying for that posting. Something about the weather.”
“Minneapolis?” Lucas repeated. He stared at her blankly, and then that glorious smile lit up his face. And her heart.
He set the box down to one side and pulled her into his arms. “I missed you, a cuisle. I should never have let you leave.”
Kathryn choked out a laugh. “I’m not sure you could have stopped me,” she said against the warm skin of his neck, “but I’m sorry I left the way I did. And I’m sorry for hurting you,” she added, the words nearly swallowed by her sob of relief. She wrapped her arms around his back and held on tight, able to breathe freely for the first time since she’d walked out of his office nearly a month ago.
“Don’t be sorry,” Lucas rumbled. “Just tell me you love me.”
“I do. I love you so much it scares me to death. But living without you . . . it’s like a hole in my heart I can never fill.”
Lucas tightened his arms around her. “Ah, Katie mine, we’ll be all right, then. You’ll see.”
“I know. Now that you’re here, I know.”
Lucas dipped his head and kissed her. It was hot and tender at the same time and so very familiar. It was like coming home.
“Can I give you a ride somewhere?” he murmured, his mouth trailing warm kisses all along her jawline before coming back to her mouth.
Kathryn smiled against his lips. “How about Minneapolis? I was supposed to catch a flight tonight.”
Lucas laughed, then looped an arm around her waist and gestured at the waiting SUV. “Your carriage awaits.”
“That’s my rental over there,” she said, indicating a mid-sized sedan at the
curb. “My truck went with the moving van yesterday, and I have to get this one back to the airport.”
“No problem. Nick will handle it. He’ll be so grateful you’re coming back with us, he’ll do anything you ask.”
She stared at him, confused. “Why would Nick be—”
He actually looked guilty. “It’s possible I’ve been a bit . . . short-tempered lately.”
“Guess I’ll have to sweeten you up then. For Nick’s sake.”
Lucas’s laugh was low and seductive. “I’m counting on it, a cuisle. I am definitely counting on it.”
Epilogue
Minneapolis, Minnesota
They watched from across the river as Lucas Donlon escorted the woman into a brightly lit gala, two more beautiful people in a hotel that was already full of them. The event of the year, the papers had called it. The rich and powerful of the state all gathered into one big, fat target. Fortunately for all of them, he wasn’t hunting tonight. Tonight was just reconnaissance.
He watched as Lucas leaned over to whisper something private to the woman. She laughed at whatever it was, gazing up at him, her face shining with emotion. It was obvious to anyone with eyes to see that she was in love, and it seemed he returned the feeling. Lucas Donlon in love. Six months ago, Aden would have sworn Lucas would be the last one to fall.
“Who’s the woman?” he asked.
“His FBI bitch,” Magda supplied, all but spitting the words. There was hatred there. And not just for the woman, but Donlon, too. A woman scorned, perhaps? The very worst kind in his experience.
“Don’t worry about her,” Magda continued. “Worry about Donlon and his plans for the Midwest.”
“I thought he’d opened it up to all comers. The first round’s in two weeks,” one of the other vampires objected. There were two of them, and Aden hadn’t figured out yet if they were serious contenders, or simply Magda’s pets.
“That’s what he says,” she responded darkly. “But competitions can be fixed. He and Raphael are thick as thieves, and they have big plans that they’re not sharing with anyone.”
Or perhaps they’re simply not sharing them with you, Aden thought to himself, dismissing the female vampire’s fears of a grand conspiracy.
“Raphael’s involved in this?” the other vamp who’d posed the earlier question protested. “No one said anything about taking on Raphael.”
“Scared?” Magda mocked. “Fuck Raphael. He can be killed like any other vampire. Klemens almost got him a few months back. If the fool had hired a competent assassin, Lord Fucking Raphael would already be dead.”
“I heard there’d been an attempt, but not who did it,” Aden commented. “It was Klemens?”
She nodded. “Hired a human sniper who missed. Should have hired a vampire instead.”
“And yet, Klemens is dead, while Raphael lives on,” Aden said dryly, tired of her hissing commentary. “I doubt that’s a coincidence.”
“Yeah, so Klemens is dead. Doesn’t matter why.” She gave Aden a dirty look. He’d interrupted her moment in the limelight, and she was a woman who liked the light. “We’re here because Klemens is gone, and Lucas is vulnerable,” she continued. “Look at him. I could take him out from here if I had a decent rifle.”
Aden doubted that, but he kept the thought to himself.
“So what’s the plan?” one of Magda’s pets asked.
“We take out Donlon and split the Midwest territory,” Magda asserted boldly. “Just remember, Donlon’s Plains territory is mine.”
“If you can hold it,” Aden commented softly. He pushed away from the wall and stood to his full height. “I don’t know about you lads, but I’ve no intention of taking on Donlon. I want the Midwest, and I’ve no need to skulk in the shadows with angry women in order to do it.”
Magda spun around to face him, bristling, fangs bared. Aden gave her a dismissive glance. She was full of bitterness, this one, and set on revenge. But she had no power to back it up, and he had no desire to get caught up in her schemes.
“We’ll see how tough you are when the shit hits the fan,” she sneered.
Aden brushed dirt from his sleeve. “Yes, we will,” he said calmly. “See you in Chicago, lads. Should be interesting.”
To be continued . . .
Glossary
A cuisle - Pronounced A KUSH-LA. Literally, this means “pulse,” shortened from “pulse of my heart,” but colloquially it translates as “darling.”
A ghrá - Pronounced A GRAW. Translates as “My heart,” used as an endearment
An Tiarna - Pronounced On Teer-na. “Lord” (as in an aristocratic lord over certain lands)
Mo Éireann álainn - Pronounced MAW ERIN AWL-IN. “My beautiful Ireland”
Mo Chroí mo go deo - Pronounced MAW KHREE MAW GUH DOE (The ‘KH’ sound would be like how Scots pronounce ‘Loch’). “Forever in my heart”
Tá me chomh mór sin i ngrá leat - Pronounced TAW meh khoh MOWER shin ing RAW l(y)att. “I love you so much”
Tromluí- Pronounced TROM-LWEE. “Nightmare”
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