“What do you mean? Daniel’s work is carried in a number of very fine galleries—”
“Yes, but what about this gallery?” he asked, rubbing a square tipped finger over the gallery’s name on the back label of the frame he still held.
“Which one—” Her question was interrupted by the opening of the door. Lucas held up his hand, asking Kathryn to wait as he turned to address Magda.
“Maggie,” he began, and she saw the woman’s expression tighten with irritation at the nickname. She would have found that intriguing if she hadn’t been far more interested in Lucas’s reaction to her brother’s photographs. “These photographs,” he continued, gesturing with one hand. “The gallery owner is Carmichael, right?”
“Yes, my lord,” Magda said, clearly puzzled by the question. “He has a small gallery in Minneapolis, but I believe he brought these from his main gallery in Chicago, because he thought you’d enjoy them.”
She saw a knowing look pass between Lucas and Magda and knew there was something they weren’t telling her. Something about Carmichael?
“Why is Carmichael important?” Kathryn demanded. “What does it matter where you bought them?”
Donlon shrugged and hung the photograph back on the wall. “It occurs to me that he might be an admirer of your brother’s work. Admiration can sometimes turn to obsession.”
“You think Carmichael kidnapped Daniel?” she asked, doubtfully. “My brother’s a big guy, taller than I am, and very athletic. He wouldn’t be easy to grab.”
“Don’t be naïve, Kathryn. Even the strongest man can be taken down by the addition of any number of available drugs to his drink. And your witness did say Daniel left the bar with someone. Perhaps it only had the appearance of willingness.”
“But the witness also said the man was a vampire.”
“Perhaps he was wrong about that, or perhaps your brother didn’t actually leave with the person he saw.”
Kathryn studied his too handsome face, trying to determine whether he was telling her the whole truth. But she might as well have tried to read a statue. Lucas stared back at her with nothing more than a vaguely puzzled expression, as if he couldn’t figure out what her problem was.
“All right,” she said at last. “What time Friday night can we visit this vampire bar?”
“If you want to get a feel for the place, it will have to be late. What do you think, Nicholas?” he asked, turning to his lieutenant. “Eleven o’clock?”
Nicholas nodded. “On a Friday, yes, my lord.”
Lucas swung back to her with a pleased grin. “It’s a date then. Eleven o’clock on Friday. Shall I pick you up?”
“No,” she said immediately. This was not a date, no matter what he said. “I’ll meet you there.”
“Very well.” He sighed, as if disappointed. “But do wear something appropriate.”
She frowned and glanced down at her white blouse and dark blue pants.
“If you want to get information, a cuisle, you can’t walk in there looking like you’re about to raid the place.”
“Of course,” she said dismissively, as if she’d already considered that. And she was sure she would have. Eventually. Damn it. Damn him. She’d have to go clothes shopping, because the raciest thing she’d brought with her was a cotton tank top.
Lucas winked conspiratorially, as if he knew what she was thinking.
Kathryn scowled. She’d clearly gotten off on the wrong foot with Lucas Donlon. “But we’re meeting again tomorrow night, right? Same time as tonight? And you’ll speak to your people?”
“I shall count the hours, Agent Hunter.”
The urge to punch him was growing stronger. Anything to wipe that satisfied smirk from his face. But she had a feeling he was hoping for just that, so she turned and strode out of the office instead.
“Kathryn,” Donlon called just before she reached the door.
She gritted her teeth, but managed to turn around and inquire politely, “Mister Donlon?”
“Do you ride?”
Kathryn frowned in confusion. “Ride? You mean horses?”