Charlaine Harris - Must Love Hellhounds

But she had known what he could do and hadn’t guarded against it. If Blake hadn’t already been Ramsdell security, she could have just compromised Ames-Beaumont’s.

The potential mistake didn’t piss her off as much as knowing that she hadn’t even thought about guarding against it. Taking a risk with her eyes wide open was acceptable. Acting blindly and stupidly was not.

And why hadn’t she thought? Because she’d been cozy.

She jabbed in the pins that secured her hair, then stepped into her trousers and yanked them up. “Why didn’t you read my e-mail when I did, too?”

“That would be an invasion of privacy, Winters.” His brows lowered, darkening his expression. “I have limits. For instance, when you’re in there”-he tilted his head toward the bathroom-“I’ll not look without permission. But if you come out here dressed as you are now, I’ll take whatever eyeful I can.”

“But whose-” No, she didn’t need to ask.

Sir Pup had begun chuffing. His other two heads sprouted from his shoulders and joined in.

Blake weaved on the bed and pressed his hand to his forehead, swallowing hard. Obviously, looking through the three heads didn’t agree with him.

“If I may be so bold, Mr. Blake-you just got what you deserved.” Maggie pulled on her shirt. “You said you couldn’t see through animals.”

“I can’t. And don’t bloody call me Mr. Blake.” He stood abruptly and came toward her. “Are those why you were called ‘Bullet-Eating Brunhilda’?”

“No.” She didn’t look down at the scars scattered over her stomach as she buttoned her shirt. “It’s because I’m blond, and I’m tall, and men don’t use much imagination when they are nicknaming women. Your uncle, of course, is the exception-‘Winters’ is preferable to ‘the Ice Queen’ or ‘the Frost Giant.’”

“‘Winters’ has nothing to do with your hair, Maggie.” His gaze was steady on hers. “Will you turn around?”

Nothing he’d just said was what she’d expected. “Why?”

“Because there’s a mirror behind you. And because you’ve retreated behind that damnable butler’s tone, and so I’m not able to tell if you’re angry. I want to see your face, not mine.”

That was just too bad. “We have a plane to catch, sir.” She shouldered her weapon harness and deliberately swept her gaze down his bare chest, his ridged stomach. “You have five minutes to get ready. I suggest you get started.”

He stepped in closer. Maggie drew in a breath, waited for him to do more. To say something, to argue… to touch her.

God, she was looking at his hands again.

Her jacket hung on the chair behind her. She grabbed it, put distance between them. He stared at the spot where she’d been for a moment longer before turning his back to her and moving toward his own clothes. The bullet scar on his shoulder was pale against his tan.

“For the record, Maggie,” he said, “it wasn’t my intention to upset you. I’m simply not in the habit of asking first.”

No, he wouldn’t be. He couldn’t keep his ability a secret if he sought permission to use it.

The tension that had been stiffening her muscles slowly eased away. “For the record, sir-I am very easy to upset when I find myself awake at four in the morning.”

He was facing the other way, so she didn’t know if he smiled. She didn’t mind. He couldn’t see hers, either.

“Now that you’ve forgiven me, I ought not to admit this,” Blake said as soon as they were both settled into the SUV. “But I’ve no idea why we are to catch a plane. I only read half of Savi’s e-mail.”

Because he’d been distracted when she’d come out of the bathroom in her underwear, Maggie realized, and four fifteen in the morning suddenly felt a little brighter.

“The Ramsdell corporate jet is waiting at the Richmond airport,” Maggie told him. “It’ll take us to Charleston.”

“Savi located the RV, then?”

“No. But it’ll get us to the right state faster than we can drive, and we don’t lose the time sleeping.”

Blake’s smile was wry. “Sensible. And very kind of her not to point out that if I could drive, we wouldn’t have needed to stop.”

Yes. Last night, she would’ve slept while Blake drove, and they’d have been in South Carolina by now.

Maggie frowned, her fingers tapping against the steering wheel. “They stopped, too. James and the other one. And not to switch off-they could have done that in a parking lot or beside the road.”

But at a campground, Maggie realized, they could pay for the site and leave the RV. It would be a while before anyone listed it as abandoned.

And they’d drugged Katherine again rather than asking her to locate something. So that it’d be easier to carry her out of the RV, take her to another vehicle?

Blake must have been thinking along similar lines. “So they’ve left the caravan, changed their mode of transportation.”

“With a nearby destination, probably. If she’s drugged, even a hired plane is too risky-and so is taking the chance that she’ll wake up when she’s in a car. She’d get someone’s attention.”

“A local destination,” he repeated, his voice grim. “Where they can start questioning her.”

“Yes.” She glanced over at him. “We’ll be at the airport in ten minutes. You call Savi, fill her in. It’ll be somewhere isolated. Probably a house, rented or leased in the past six months.” The date Katherine had bought her plane ticket to New York. “Have her cross-reference names with the campground registrations and the real estate agent who was selling the brownstone in Brooklyn.”

“She won’t find anything.”

“No,” Maggie agreed. “But it’s better than doing nothing.”

He nodded, and she listened to the one-sided conversation with her mind hundreds of miles south. You can stop me, Brunhilda. But she couldn’t anticipate James, because she couldn’t see why he was doing this.

She lowered her window to let the wind rush past her face and finish waking her up. Even this early, the August air was warm. From the cargo area, Sir Pup whined. She rolled the rear window down, and a moment later one of his heads was blocking the view in her side mirror. His tongue and ears flapped like wet flags.

His eyes were also glowing crimson, but there wasn’t enough traffic to worry about his being seen.

“Demon,” Blake said quietly. “I’ll ring you again in a moment, Savi.”

Startled, Maggie glanced over at him. Was he worried about the red eyes? But she didn’t think he’d been looking at Sir Pup.

“She’s awake, in a bedroom, and there’s a man sitting in the corner who looks like Gavin.”

His sister’s ex. But it couldn’t be him; Maggie knew Ames-Beaumont had put men on Gavin’s tail the moment Katherine had disappeared.

And a demon could shape-shift to resemble anyone.

“Oh, she’s right pissed. Her hands are waving around in that way she has. He’s attempting to calm her. Good luck with that, you bastard.” A moment passed. “And there he goes, out the door. He’s locked it. Come on, Kate, give me something I can work with.”

Maggie’s phone beeped. Seeing that it was Savi, she simply engaged the speakerphone.

“There she goes to the window,” Blake said. “She’s upstairs. It’s dark outside, but there’s a light… a lighthouse, I think it is. It must be to the north of her. The water’s on the right.”

Faintly, she heard the clacking of Savi’s keyboard. Already narrowing the search.

“The house is white. There’s a dock, and a boathouse. A good-sized sailboat tied up.”

That meant money, Maggie thought. But with a demon involved, that wasn’t a surprise. “Do you see a name on it?”