Lucas (10 page)

Donlon
grinned as if he knew anyway. “Don’t knock it ’til you’ve tried it. And you will,” he added with a slow, smoldering look.

Kathryn felt her lips pinch with irritation and forced her face to resume a bland expression. He had a way of goading her completely out of her comfort zone.

“In any event,” she said briskly, “while I can’t imagine Daniel enjoying something like that, he always
has
been an adventurer, so it’s possible he—”

“Daniel?”
Donlon
said, catching her slip. “So, the last name isn’t merely a coincidence.
A husband?
Brother? It’s unlikely that he’s old enough to be your father.”

“How do you know how old he is?” she demanded at once.

Donlon
shrugged, unconcerned. “I don’t. But I can certainly guess at how old
you
are, and extrapolate how old your father would have to be. My manager at that club is very careful about whom he lets in. And a man old enough to be your father would never pass muster.
Too dangerous.”

“Dangerous for whom?”

“The older man, love. As I said, having a vampire drink from you is
very
enjoyable. Not everyone’s heart can handle it.”

“Lovely,” she muttered.

“Indeed,” he agreed, not at all put off. “But as to your
missing .
 . .”

“Brother,” she supplied. There was little point in trying to conceal it. Sutcliffe knew, and she suspected
Donlon
knew, too. Despite his little games, she found it unlikely the efficient
Magda
would have let her get this far without checking out every aspect of her purpose in being here.

“
Your
missing brother, yes. I don’t often visit the blood houses, but the vampires on my staff do frequent that particular one, among others. If you have a photograph of your brother, I’d be happy to show it around and ask if anyone saw anything.”

“I’d rather check it out myself,” Kathryn countered. “If I could have your club manager’s name and those of any vampires who visit the club
regularly .
 . .” She took out her notepad and pen, prepared to write names.

Donlon
didn’t move except to give her a lazy blink of his eyes. “I’m afraid that’s not possible, Kathryn. My people rely on me to protect them, and I take that responsibility very seriously. It was not so long ago that your people were hunting mine down and slaughtering them for no reason. As I said, I’m more than happy to show your brother’s photograph around, but that’s all you’ll get.”

“What I’ll get,” she said sharply, “is a judge’s order requiring your people to submit to questioning.”

“Will you?” Lucas came to his feet so fast, she didn’t see him move, and she shot up defensively.

Donlon’s
expression was no longer lazy, his voice no longer teasing. “Go ahead,
Special Agent
Hunter. Get your warrant. Oh, but wait, you can’t, can you?
Because you’re not here in an official capacity.
In fact, I suspect your supervisors told you to leave this alone, but here you are anyway.”

Kathryn gave a mental shrug. So he knew she was off the reservation on this one. Powerful men always had ways of finding out things, and she didn’t make the mistake of thinking
Donlon
was any less powerful just because he was a vampire. If anything, it was likely to make him more powerful. He could bring to bear not just economic and business pressure, but that visceral fear of the unknown as well. She
had
hoped to milk her FBI connection a bit longer,
but .
 . . she sighed inwardly. It looked as if she’d have to play nice with this incredibly handsome bastard, after all.

She met
Donlon’s
cool gaze evenly and gave an easy shrug. “It was worth a shot,” she said, sitting down again. “Yes, I’m on my own for this one, and, yes, my superiors would rather I leave it alone. But I suspect their reluctance stems in large part from a desire not to piss you off. I don’t really care about pissing you off. I just want my brother back, and I think you or your people know something about what happened to him.”

“Just because he went to a vampire bar?”
Donlon
slouched back comfortably into his big chair. Did the man
ever
sit up straight? “There are many bars in
South Dakota
,” he continued. “And very few of them are owned by vampires.”

“Yes, but I have a witness who saw him leaving
your
bar with someone they say is a vampire. And that’s the last time anyone saw my brother.”

“Who’s the witness, and what’s the vampire’s name?”

“I won’t tell you that,” Kathryn said instantly. The last thing she wanted was to have
Donlon
discover that her only witness was in
Afghanistan
. “But he’s been to the club before, and he’s certain the man leaving with my brother is a vampire.”

“How can he be sure?”

“Because—” Kathryn looked away from the vampire’s too perceptive gaze, feeling her cheeks heat with embarrassment. “—he claims to have been with the vampire in question. I assumed he meant sex, but now that you’ve
explained .
 . . what you’ve explained . . .”

She chanced a glance at
Donlon
and found him watching her with blatant amusement.

“It’s usually the same thing, Kathryn,”
Donlon
said, clearly enjoying the moment. “Taking blood from the vein is a very sensuous experience. Sex usually follows. Or
precedes
. Or sometimes even both,” he added with a teasing grin.

Kathryn bit her already sore tongue, using the pain to center herself. She was not here for Lucas Asshole
Donlon’s
amusement.

“You don’t know me,
Lord
Donlon
,” she said tightly. “Oh, I’m sure you know the basics, maybe even more than that. But you don’t know
me.
I love my brother, and I will move heaven and earth to find him. I will be the thorn in your side, the stone under your foot. I will make fucking with your existence my damn mission in life until I find out what happened to him.”

“And if he’s dead?”

The air left Kathryn’s lungs. She hadn’t dared to ask herself that question.
Hadn’t dared to even consider the possibility.
She forced herself to meet
Donlon’s
curious stare.

“If he’s dead,” she said in a thin voice she didn’t recognize. “Then I want to take him home.”

Donlon’s
gaze softened with something close to pity. But she didn’t want his pity. She drew a deep breath and stiffened her spine.

“The vampire you’re looking for,” he said. “He’s not one of mine.”

“How do you know?” she demanded.

He leaned forward, golden eyes glittering. “Because I’ve asked my people,” he said in a hard voice, “and I trust them. What’s the vampire’s name?”

Kathryn thought about not telling him, but decided he couldn’t help her if he didn’t know whom to look for. And if he wasn’t willing to help her, it wouldn’t matter anyway.

“Alex,” she said. “The witness didn’t know a last name.”

Donlon
frowned. “There is no Alex among my vampires, not locally.” He glanced briefly at Nicholas, and Kathryn would have sworn there was some communication going on there. She also noticed that he’d said not
locally.
Did that mean there was an Alex somewhere else, and they suspected he’d moved into the area? Or that this Alex visited on occasion? She drew a breath to ask him, but he turned his attention back to her, and she waited to see what his next move would be.

His scowl was still in place, but then, suddenly, as if a curtain had been drawn, everything about him changed. The sardonic gleam was back in his eyes and his mouth quirked into a cynical half-grin as he winked at her. “Tell you what, Kathryn. Come back Friday evening, and we’ll take a tour of the club. You can ask around yourself.”

Kathryn studied him distrustfully. “But today’s only Wednesday, Why do we have to wait so long?”

“Because the club isn’t open,” he explained slowly, as if she should have known that.
“Friday through Sunday only.”

Shit!
Kathryn thought to herself. Possibly her best
lead,
and she had to sit on her hands for two more days?

“What if they won’t talk to me? I mean the vampires and whoever else is at the club.”

“Trust me, they’ll talk to you,” he said silkily. “But I’ll do even better, since I’m certain you’d rather not postpone your investigation while you wait. I’ll make some inquiries here and elsewhere. Come back tomorrow night, and perhaps I’ll have something for you.”

Kathryn wondered about Lucas’s almost Jekyll and Hyde transformation, but even more, about his sudden willingness to cooperate. Did he know more than he was admitting?

“You could just call me if you find something,” she said ungraciously.

He only smiled and murmured, “But where would be the fun in that?”

Kathryn stood. “I’m not really here for fun, Mister
Donlon
.”

“
Och
, and don’t I know it?” he responded, with a very genuine-sounding Irish lilt flavoring his words for the first time. Was he Irish? For that matter, how old
was
he? Vampires lived a long time, if what she’d heard could be believed. She tended to think at least some of it was vampire disinformation. But if even part of it were true,
Donlon
could easily have been born in some long ago
Ireland
. The there-and-gone lilt was just one more piece of the mystery that was Lucas
Donlon
. And she’d always loved a good mystery.

She stood, as if to leave,
then
shifted her gaze deliberately to the photographs on the wall next to the fireplace. The ones she knew for a fact that her brother had taken, although that didn’t necessarily mean anything, since Dan’s work was sold in galleries worldwide.

“These are beautiful,” she said, crossing to the wall and moving from one photo to the next. “
Ireland
, isn’t it?”

“Éire
we call her,” Lucas murmured directly into her ear.

Kathryn’s heart slammed against her ribs. He’d somehow come out from behind his desk and walked over to stand right behind her without her being aware of it. He stood looking over her shoulder, so close she could smell the spicy scent of his skin, could feel the warmth of his breath on her cheek. She had to fight the urge to reach for her gun as she turned her head and found herself looking directly into his strange golden eyes.

He
smiled,
a bare upward tilt of his lips. He knew he’d startled her, and he took pleasure in it. Kathryn wanted to step away, wanted to ball up her fist and slug his beautiful, smug face. But she couldn’t do it. She could only stare and try to breathe.

“Have you been to my country?” he asked in a voice so soft she wouldn’t have heard him if they hadn’t been standing so close.

It took her a moment to find the words to answer. “Your country?” she repeated.

“
Mo
Éireann
álainn
.
Mo
Chroí
mo go
deo
.”

The Irish words flowed like beautiful music. “What does that mean?” she whispered, unwilling to dispel the echo of the lovely sounds.

He leaned even closer, and for one wild moment, Kathryn thought he meant to kiss her. And the worst part was, she was pretty sure she’d let him. Fortunately, he spared her from making that terrible mistake by saying softly, “Someday maybe I’ll tell you.”

He straightened a little, putting just enough distance between them that she could think rationally again, and indicated the photo nearest to her left. Daniel had caught three horses in full movement, running over a grassy paddock, with trees closing in all around. The youngest was still a foal, his back legs kicked up in play.

“That’s Kildare,” Lucas murmured to her.
“Heart of the Irish thoroughbred country.
My grandfather had a place there.
Nothing this grand, of course.
Just a patch of dirt and an old plow horse. I only visited there once, but it was a memorable event in my too short childhood.”