"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.
CHAPTER 4
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.