Duncan (23 page)

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 lightheaded 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.”

* * * *

Duncan was controlled fury as he strode down the front steps of Emma’s house and over to the SUV where Miguel waited with the dead man. Of course, the human wasn’t dead
yet
, but he would be. As soon as he told them everything he knew.

“Sire,” Miguel said formally as Duncan approached.

“Did Ari check in?”

“Yes, my lord. He just arrived at the house. Baldwin woke up when they carried him inside. He’s not happy, but he’s well.”

“Good.” Duncan glanced through the back window at the unconscious human. “If he’d wanted to kill her, he had the chance.”

Miguel nodded. “Maybe he was only supposed to scare her. Or maybe he had a message that he never got to deliver because Baldwin was there.”

“If there’s a message, we’ll know it,” Duncan said darkly.

“If they know she’s working with us, my lord., they’ll come after her.”

Duncan’s rage soared and he fought to keep it from showing, but Miguel was aware of it anyway. He could tell from the watchful look on his lieutenant’s face, the careful formality. The idea of anyone laying hands on Emma made him want to rip out the throats of every human in Victor’s files, whether or not they’d had a hand in Lacey’s death. None of them were innocent, as far as he was concerned.

He forced himself to think calmly, something he found increasingly difficult when it came to Emma Duquet. But he couldn’t afford to run around killing humans, whatever the reason. That was the very opposite of why he was in this corrupt city in the first place. Not that the men responsible for Lacey’s death would be permitted to live. Oh, no. They were all going to die. Maybe not tonight, maybe not even soon. But eventually. And he would make sure they knew it, too. Every one of them would live the last few months of his life looking over his shoulder, waiting for death to find him.

The thought pleased him and he smiled slightly. “Have someone set up a secure room at the house for the prisoner for when we get there,” he said gesturing at the truck. “Somewhere far from where Emma will be sleeping. The basement. Comfort isn’t important. And brief the daylight guards, as well. I don’t want a bungled rescue drawing in the human police, and I don’t want him killed under our noses, either.”

“Yes, my lord.”

They both turned when Emma appeared in her doorway, lugging a suitcase and carrying a garment bag over one shoulder.

“Emma,” Duncan said impatiently. “Let us help with that.”

She pushed the suitcase in his direction. “You take that and I’ll—”

He lifted the suitcase and whipped the garment bag from her shoulder, handing them both to Miguel.

“Okaaay,” she drawled. “What do I do about this door?”

Duncan frowned, then studied the doorframe. “The lock is broken, but the frame is sound. I don’t suppose you have a hammer and nails . . .” His voice trailed off as Emma disappeared back inside her house. “Of course, you do,” he amended.

She reappeared with the requested items and a smug grin.

“Nobody likes a know-it-all,” he teased as she strolled past him.

“Oh, I don’t know it all,” she replied breezily. “I’m just prepared for it all.”

Duncan laughed and picked up a hammer for the first time in more years than he could count.

* * * *

Emma sat inside the warm SUV and watched as Duncan nailed her front door shut. It wasn’t every day she saw a man in a tuxedo wielding a hammer. Of course, it wasn’t every day some wacko tried to assault her in her home. Except that maybe the guy hadn’t been a wacko. In a weird way, it would be reassuring if Lacey’s killers
had
sent someone after her. It would mean she was on the right track.

She frowned. But, if that was the case, why didn’t he kill her outright? He could have. Maybe he’d planned something else entirely for her. Duncan and his vamps hadn’t let her see all the details of what had gone on at Victor’s so-called parties—they were protecting her, which was infuriating in its own way—but she had a good sense from what they
had
let her see, and the things she’d overheard. It broke her heart to think of Lacey involved in all of that, and she shuddered for herself, thankful that Baldwin had been there tonight.