The door to Vincent’s office clicked open before she got to the top step, proof that someone was paying attention.
“Welcome back, Ms. Arnold,” the same receptionist said with a quick smile. “Go on in. Lord Vincent is expecting you.”
Lana kept her surprise from showing. She’d expected him to keep her waiting, simply because he could. Maybe it wouldn’t be so terrible working with him after all. Except for that rampant sexuality of his, of course. She’d have to be on guard against that. And maybe switch to cold showers until this job was over with.
VINCENT ROSE TO his feet when Lana Arnold entered his office and caught her quickly hidden look of surprise. But he’d been raised to stand when a lady entered the room, even when the lady was dressed like a soldier and wearing a gun. Hell, maybe especially then. Her long, dark hair was back in its confinement, although she’d washed it while she was gone. He could smell the shampoo and sense the lingering trace of moisture.
He’d set Michael the task of working the phone list, trying to find a vampire in Hermosillo who’d actually known Xuan Ignacio. In the meantime, Vincent had gone on an Internet search seeking the dirt on Lana Arnold. Unfortunately, or maybe fortunately, there wasn’t much dirt to be found. She’d graduated from University of Arizona with a degree in biology—that had been a surprise—and was now employed by her father, Sean Arnold, in his reasonably successful fugitive recovery, aka bounty hunter, business. Sean employed three hunters full-time, including Lana, and subcontracted several more on a case by case basis. Most of their work was for skip traces, but they did other tasks as well, like tracking down the scions of rich families who’d gone astray and bringing them home to Mummy and Daddy. This current job of Lana’s, delivering a message to a long-lost vampire, wasn’t their usual fare, and he figured it was a one-time deal.
Lana herself lived alone and had never been married. That particular detail pleased him, although why it should was still a mystery to him. She was an attractive woman. Fine. She was also a difficult one. Not so fine, at all.
Lana dropped her backpack on the chair in front of his desk, then leaned across and offered a handshake. Vincent took her hand automatically, although instead of shaking it, he raised it to his mouth and touched his lips to the back, lingering a bit to savor what was very soft skin for a bounty hunter. Her muscles tightened perceptibly, and he released her hand before she could pull it away. But he’d been watching her reaction, and he’d caught the vaguely disappointed look on her face, the raised eyebrow that said he was being predictable and boring. Vincent hated to be predictable and boring.
“Did you have any success?” she asked, dropping her hand to her side with a fidgety motion as if she was fighting the urge to rub it against her pants leg to remove the taint of his kiss.
Vincent’s eyes narrowed, but he’d be damned if she’d out-cool him. “My lieutenant, Michael, spoke to two of the older vampires in town,” he replied smoothly. “They’ve agreed to meet with us.”
“Can we meet tonight?”
Vincent didn’t answer her question. “You seem eager for the hunt, Lana. Is there some urgency that I’m unaware of?” he asked, instead.
“No,” she said quickly. “I mean not exactly. But we do like to make our client happy.”
“Especially the ones who aren’t headed to jail, hmm?” he said, only half-joking.
“Our client is never the one going back to jail,” she informed him, obviously not even half-amused.
“Of course,” he murmured, then gave her a wink, simply to test the bounds of her reserve. She had to break eventually. “Well, you’re in luck,” he told her, “because as it turns out, both vampires are available to meet us tonight.” He didn’t add that he hadn’t asked them for a meeting at all. This wasn’t a fucking democracy. If he wanted to talk to a vampire, they made themselves available or they suffered the consequences.
“Will they be coming here or—”
“They’re on their way. Unless you object, we’ll all meet in the conference room and have a nice chat.”
“That works.”
“No pictures,” Vincent clarified immediately. “No video, no recording of any kind.”
“Of course not,” she agreed. “I’ll just take notes if that’s okay.”
“And you’ll share, of course.”
She tilted her head, giving him a curious little smile. “Distrustful much?”
“We’ve got good reason to be distrustful when it comes to humans, Lana,” he told her seriously, leaving out the fact that he was even more distrustful of his fellow vampires.
She blushed in embarrassment—on behalf of her fellow humans?—and it was a sight to see. A rosy wash of color heated her lovely golden brown skin, the first crack in her armor. Vincent enjoyed the moment, then gestured toward the door.
“The conference room is across the hall. How’s your Spanish?”
“Not fluent, but more than conversational.”
Vincent nodded. “If you don’t understand something, let me know. Don’t ask them directly, ask me. These are old vampires, and you’re both human and female. They’re very traditional, and from a time when women didn’t run things.”
“They don’t run things now either,” she murmured and gave a little smile when he laughed. Another chink in the armor? Maybe.
“Well, they don’t run everything, anyway,” he conceded, letting laughter color his words. “But it will be easier tonight if we do this particular thing my way.”
“That’s why I’m here. You’re the expert,” she said.