Kerrelyn Sparks - Be Still My Vampire Heart

"I see." So Angus was the son of Alexander and grandson of the founder, Angus the Third. Unless… he was all three? "Are there any photos of them?"

"No. They keep a low profile," Brian continued. "Don't advertise. Can't even find them in a phone book."

"That's odd."

"Well, I suppose they've been in business long enough, they have all the clients they need. Here's something interesting… "

"What?"

"The company performed some secret missions during World War II. Angus the Third was even knighted."

Emma blinked. "Really? I wonder what he did that the armed forces couldn't do."

"Don't know. And it looks like Angus the Fourth has done a few favors for the queen."

"You're kidding. Like what?" There was a pause while Emma could hear her former supervisor grumbling.

"Crap. It's been erased."

Emma stood and paced across her tiny living room. The more she found out about

Angus, the more confused she became. He didn't sound like an enemy. "So his company has done top secret missions for our government and the queen."

"Yes, and—bloody hell. Angus MacKay has a clearance rating of nine. That's as high as my own."

And much higher than Emma's rating had ever been. "That's totally unheard of. The man's a civilian."

"I gather it has something to do with those top secret missions. At any rate, he's well trusted. What do you know about him?"

Other than the fact she wanted to undress him? "Not much." She should be greatly relieved to find out he was trustworthy. Good heavens, even the queen trusted him. But dammit, he provided security for the most powerful vampire on the East Coast. Who could protect Roman Draganesti better than another vampire? Chances were great that Angus was a vampire.

She perched on the loveseat. "Do you have a list of his clients?"

"Let's see. He provides security for several members of Parliament, a few bigwigs at the BBC, and a fashion designer in Paris."

Those clients didn't sound like vampires. Could he actually be human? Shit, she still didn't know for sure. "Thank you, Brian. You've been a great help." She pushed the off button and dropped the phone on the loveseat.

She paced about her small living room. How could Angus be a vampire when the queen trusted him? And what kind of services was he providing that an agent from MI5 or MI6 couldn't do? She winced. A vampire could do things a human agent could never do.

Her laptop made a chiming noise to let her know an e-mail had arrived. She rushed to the loveseat and checked the sender. Angus MacKay.

Her heart lurched. She opened the message.

Dear Miss Wallace, my office in London forwarded your note. Please meet me tomorrow night in Central Park at eight P.M., in the same vicinity where we met tonight. I will answer all your questions then.

That was it. Very businesslike. She was… almost disappointed. What had she wanted?

More flirtatious banter? She'd enjoyed talking to him earlier before he'd turned dictatorial.

She sat there, frowning at his message. Then she typed I'll be there. I'll be the one wearing the pants. Don't forget your purse.

She pushed Send.

She jumped up and paced around the room. What was she doing, joking with an alleged vampire? Did vampires even have a sense of humor? Well, Angus had joked with her in the park.

Her computer chimed. He'd answered? She ran to the loveseat and opened the mail.

I'll leave my sporran at home, if you'll leave your pants.

She gasped. That naughty man! She laughed, then stopped abruptly. He might not be a man. He might be the enemy.

She collapsed back against the cushions. What a stupid thing to do. Flirting with the enemy. Why did he have to be so damned attractive? She needed to get her priorities straight and plan her strategy for the next night. She usually killed vampires by catching them completely off guard. She wouldn't have that advantage with Angus. She would need… a trap. And a way to restrain him.

The jangle of her cell phone startled her. Had Angus found her number? "Hello?"

"Emma, Brian here. I just received an odd report from data security, and I thought you should know."

She sat forward. "Yes?"

"Someone accessed the personnel files about ten minutes ago. They had clearance, but they didn't identify themselves, so a flag went up. Before security could break the connection, this person managed to download one file." Brian cleared his throat. "I thought I should warn you."

A chill seeped through Emma's skin. "Whose file was it?"

"Yours."

"I see." Her voice sounded far away. "Thank you." She set the phone down and took a deep breath to steel her nerves. So Angus was checking her out. He would know all about her. Her gaze drifted to the naughty e-mail he'd sent. If he was a vampire, tomorrow night would be his last.

And even a pardon from the queen couldn't save his gorgeous ass.

At twenty minutes till eight, Emma spread dead leaves over the ground to hide the rope. She was in a wooded area of Central Park, secluded enough that she didn't need to worry about innocent people blundering into her trap, but close to the place where she'd met Angus MacKay the night before. Her black jeans were topped with a bright red sweater to make her easier to find. She stashed her bag of stakes under a nearby rhododendron and wedged four stakes under her belt.

Fifteen minutes till eight. Would he be on time? The minutes stretched out, ticking by at an incredibly slow rate. What would it be like to have an eternity of nights? Or the ability to teleport somewhere in an instant? With their superior abilities, Emma could understand why vampires considered themselves superior. But in her experience, all serial killers considered themselves superior.

That's all vampires were, really. Serial killers with superior abilities that made them harder to kill. The only good thing about them was that they were already dead. She didn't have to capture one and wait for a slow justice system to deliver a satisfactory ending. No delayed gratification here. When she found one, she killed it.

Ten minutes till. She circled the oak tree where the rope was anchored. She needed to keep her muscles warm and her senses alert. She'd have to act quickly. Not think about how handsome he looked in a kilt. Not think about witty, clever conversation. Her mission was two-fold. Discover his status—human or monster. Then kill him if he was the latter.

She cringed at the thought of watching the sparkle die in his lovely green eyes. She'd never talked to a vampire before killing one. The four she had killed had been in the process of attacking and raping a woman while they fed from her. The sight had been so horrid and repulsive, she'd had no trouble delivering justice.

She couldn't imagine Angus doing that to a woman. He'd seemed offended by the flasher. And he'd lectured her on safety. What vampire would act that way? Oh God, she prayed, don't let him be a vampire. Let him be the queen's hero and the grandson of a knighted war hero. Let him be the man of her fantasies—a fierce, honorable warrior who could fight evil by her side.

"Good evening, Miss Wallace."

She whirled toward the deep voice but could barely discern his dark silhouette in the distance. Her heart raced. He looked wonderful. He looked dangerous.

He stepped toward her, and his kilt swirled around his knees. "Thank ye for coming. We need to talk."

"Yes, we do." She put her psychic defenses up. If he was a vampire, he could try to manipulate her mentally. She edged toward the middle of the small clearing. All he needed to do was walk straight toward her, and he'd step into the trap. "I was beginning to think you weren't coming."

"I am a man of my word."

But are you alive? That was the real question. If he was undead, he wouldn't know the meaning of honesty. Or honor.