How to Marry a Millionaire Vampire(35)

Roman walked toward the ballroom, accompanied by the men who had been in his office. "Ian, how much did you find out about the Stake-Out project? How many agents are on the team?"

"There are five of them, including Shanna's father."

"Only five?" Angus asked. "That's not too bad. Do ye have their names? Maybe we can get to them first."

Roman winced. Kill Shanna's father? Now that would certainly boost his chances for a happy romance.

"It doesn't make sense to me." Jean-Luc tapped his walking stick on the floor as he walked. "No mortal can attack us while we are awake. We can instantly take control of their minds."

Roman paused in mid-stride. Was that it? Shanna had shown remarkable resistance to mind control. And her ability to read his mind while they were linked was uncanny. It was very possible she had psychic ability. Inherited psychic ability. God's blood. A team of vampire slayers, sanctioned by the government, who could resist mind control-it was unnerving.

"They must be planning to kill us during the day," Angus said. "I'll have to train more daytime guards."

"Mr. Draganesti is working on a formula that would enable us to stay awake during the day." Laszlo glanced nervously at Roman. "Maybe I shouldn't have mentioned it."

"Is that true?" Angus gripped Roman by the shoulder. "Can ye do it, man?"

"I believe so," Roman replied. "It hasn't been tested yet."

"I'll be your guinea pig," Gregori offered with a grin.

Roman shook his head. "I can't afford to have anything happen to you. I need men like you running the business so I can work in my lab."

Jean-Luc pushed open the swinging double doors to the ballroom, then with a gasp, he retreated back into the hallway. "Merde. It's that horrid woman from DVN. I think she saw us."

"A news reporter?" Roman asked.

"Not exactly." Jean-Luc shuddered. "It's Corky Courrant. She hosts the celebrity magazine called Live with the Undead."

Angus huffed impatiently. "Why is she here?"

"You guys are celebrities." Gregori gave them an incredulous look. "Didn't you know?"

"Yes." Laszlo ducked his head. "You're all famous."

Roman frowned. His inventions might have changed the vampire world, but he still spent long hours every night working in his lab. In fact, he sorely wished he was in his lab right now.

"Doona let her smile fool you," Angus warned. "According to my investigations, she once ran a torture chamber in the Tower of London for Henry VIII. She was called Catherine Courrant back then. They say she's personally responsible for wrenching the confession of incest from Anne

Boleyn's brother."

Jean-Luc shrugged it off in his usual way. "And now she works for the media. But of course."

"The lads and I call her Porky Implant." Ian was met with questioning looks. "Ye know, Corky Courrant-Porky Implant. Tis a jest."

"I like it." Gregori raised his hands like he was holding two casaba melons. "She has huge tits. They got to be fake."

"Aye," Ian joined in. "They're enormous."

"Okay." Roman gritted his teeth. "Thank you all for sharing. But the fact remains that regardless of the woman's questionable background or her even more questionable …  foreground, we cannot remain hiding in this hallway all evening."

"Aye." Angus squared his shoulders. "We must face the dragon."

Ian took a deep breath. "We must be the dragon."

The double doors burst open.

The men shrank back without emitting a single puff of smoke.

"There you are!" the dragon lady announced, her dark eyes gleaming with victory. "You cannot escape me now."

Corky Courrant motioned for her crew to take their positions. Two men held the doors open. A large crewman wielded the digital camera, while a female crew member performed last-minute touches to Corky's makeup. Each of the crew wore black jeans and T-shirts emblazoned with white letters that read DVN. Guests, dressed formally in black and white, gathered in a crowd behind the reporter, effectively blocking off that means of escape.

We're trapped. The only avenue of retreat that Roman could see was back to his office, and no doubt the voracious reporter would simply follow him there.

"Don't even think about running away." She narrowed her dark eyes on the men. "You will talk."

That had probably been her favorite line as mistress of a torture chamber. Roman exchanged a look with Angus.

"Enough!" The reporter waved the makeup person away. She touched a miniature earphone in her right ear and tilted her head to listen to someone's voice. "We're on in thirty seconds. Places everyone." She posed in front of the cameraman, her black dress revealing much of her oversized bosom.

Implants, indeed. She must have gone to Dr. Uberlingen in Zurich. He was the only vampire plastic surgeon in existence, and for a large fee, he could help a vampire spend eternity looking young and beautiful. The reporter's implants had probably helped her nab one of the coveted jobs at DVN. The Digital Vampire Network was still fairly new and flooded each week with hundreds of hopeful vampires, each dreaming of being the next big star.

Catching vampires on film had been impossible until the advent of digital cameras. Now digital technology had opened up a whole new world of possibilities and problems. In fact, Roman wouldn't be surprised if this was how the CIA had learned of their existence. They could have discovered the secret frequency DVN used for broadcasting.

Gregori's phone rang. He flipped it open and stepped away. "Hey, Connor," he spoke softly.

"What's up?"

Roman focused on the one-way conversation.

"A house in New Rochelle?" Gregori asked. "What happened?"

The cameraman cued the reporter, and she instantly brightened with a high-wattage smile. "This is Corky Courrant, reporting for Live with the Undead. We have a special treat for you tonight. We're live at the biggest vampire bash of the year! I'm sure you'll want to meet our celebrities for the evening."

She motioned to Angus MacKay and gave some facts about him, then did the same for Jean-Luc Echarpe. Roman turned away to catch snatches of Gregori's phone conversation.

"Are you sure?" Gregori whispered. "Dead? "

Roman gulped. Were they talking about Shanna? His mind visualized an image of her lifeless body.

No! Not his Shanna.

"Roman Draganesti!" The reporter moved in front of him. "I have thousands of viewers who would love to meet you."

"This is not a good time, Miss Implant." Roman felt Jean-Luc jabbing him in the back with his walking stick. "Uh, Porky. No, I mean-" Damn, what the hell was her name?

The reporter's eyes flashed like dragon fire. Her smile tightened into a snarl.

"Mademoiselle Courrant," Jean-Luc cut in. "May I have the pleasure of the first dance?"

"Why, yes, of course." Corky aimed a vicious grin at the camera as she curled her claws around Jean-Luc's arm. "This is every woman's dream-dancing with the grand coven master of Western Europe. Why, he's practically royalty!" She strolled into the ballroom with Jean-Luc.

Roman strode toward Gregori. "What happened? Tell me." Angus joined him, followed by Ian and Laszlo.

Gregori pocketed the cell phone. "Connor followed Ivan Petrovsky to a house in New Rochelle.

Ivan and his friends went inside. Connor thought they might be holding Shanna there, so he went around back, levitated to a second floor window and teleported inside."

Roman's nerves tensed. "Was she there?"

"No," Gregori replied. "All the rooms upstairs were empty."

Roman breathed a sigh of relief.

"But they did have a mortal captive on the first floor," Gregori continued. "Connor listened in on them. Ivan was furious that Shanna hadn't shown up. Then they killed the mortal. Connor was sore upset 'cause he could only listen. He knew he couldn't defeat four vampires by himself."

"Bugger," Angus muttered.

"Connor heard them receive a call, and then they all rushed out the front door. He went downstairs and found their victim. A U.S. marshal."

"God's blood." Roman grimaced. "He was probably Shanna's contact."

"Bloody hell," Angus muttered. "No wonder the CIA wants us dead. 'Tis vampires like Petrovsky that give us a bad name."

"I don't want to hurt anyone." Laszlo fiddled with a button on his tux jacket. "Can't we convince the CIA that some of us are peaceful?"

"We'll have to try." Angus folded his arms across his broad chest. "And if they doona believe we're peaceful, then we'll have to kill the bastards."

"Aye." Ian nodded.

Roman frowned. Somehow, their Highlander logic escaped him. "So where is Connor now?"

"He's on his way here," Gregori replied. "So is Petrovsky. Connor heard him talking about something he's planning to do here."

"Och, we must be prepared." Angus strode into the ballroom.

Roman waited by the door. The band was playing a waltz. Vampire couples swirled around he floor. Jean-Luc and the reporter danced by, the French coven master shooting Roman a pained look.

Angus was giving his instructions to a regiment of Highlanders in a comer of the ballroom. Ivan Petrovsky was on his way to cause trouble. At least they knew about it ahead of time. It was the unknown that made Roman sick with worry. Where the hell was Shanna?