Red Angel (6 page)

‘No.’

‘Anthony Davis.’ He rubs his thumb along his bottom lip and gazes dreamily off into the distance. ‘Lance Corporal Davis to you. A muscular hunk with enough sex appeal to drown a kitten in.’

‘Devlin,’ I begin warningly.

‘He used to sneak me onto his base,’ O’Shea explains. ‘Not because we couldn’t find an alternative spot for a tryst, of course. But the thrill of being interrupted by a group of soldiers was too delicious to pass up. In fact, one time…’

‘Get to the point.’

‘It’s a good story!’

I make a show of looking at my watch. O’Shea sighs. ‘If you insist. I learnt from those experiences that army bases aren’t exactly compact and bijou. It’s one thing to know that the time bubble orbs are kept at Brigstone, it’s another to find them. I assumed that you wouldn’t want to wander around the largest army base in the country asking for directions. I know you women like to do that but I’m not sure bloodguzzlers are welcome in the middle of the night with Her Majesty’s finest.’

‘I hate it when you’re smarter than I am,’ I mutter.

He laughs. ‘Don’t worry about it, little Bo.’

‘You’ve not asked me yet why I’m so keen to get hold of an orb.’

He taps his temple. ‘Smarter than you, remember?’

I growl. ‘Not all the time.’

O’Shea smirks. ‘It’s pretty obvious. I’ve been waiting for you to get around to it. You’re going to find Tobias Renfrew. And I’m going to help you. Solving the biggest mystery the Agathos daemons have ever experienced by finding a reclusive billionaire who may or may not be a serial killer will be a piece of cake for my brains and your…’ he looks me up and down ‘…um, your … your…’

I thump him on the arm. ‘Idiot.’

He sweeps a bow. ‘I aim to please.’

‘Even though that wasn’t his ear, he has to have something to do with those attacks. If we investigate Renfrew, we might find the pricks who hurt Rogu3.’

‘I’m with you all the way, Bo. That kid didn’t deserve that. In fact, he’s lucky to be alive.’

I refrain from mentioning that I turned Rogu3 into a vampire to save his life and then used X’s daemon blood to turn him back to human. I know several people have their suspicions about what I did but to mention X’s existence would be to seal their fate.

O’Shea flicks a glance up at the sky. ‘Dawn isn’t far off. Shall we reconvene tomorrow evening?’

I start to agree before remembering I have a prior engagement. Bugger. ‘As long it’s after eleven.’ I’ll need to come up with a good excuse to finish my date with Michael early. Telling him the truth won’t work; he’ll only get pissed off if he knows I’m planning on breaking the law and doing something this daft. But he’s only the Head of the most powerful vampire Family in the country. It’ll be easy to tell him that I’m far busier than he is and have to leave. No problemo.

Matt and Connor perch uncomfortably on my little sofa. I’m not sure whether their awkward position is because they’re unhappy with the job I’ve tasked them with or whether it’s because they’re too afraid to move Kimchi out of the way. The dog is sprawled out behind them, giving every impression of being fast asleep. From the way he keeps opening one eye to peek at the action, I know better.

‘What do you think of this one?’ I give them a twirl.

‘It’s lovely, Bo,’ Connor answers, deadpan.

‘You said that about the last dress.’

‘It was lovely too but they both kind of look the same to me.’

‘It was long! This one is short.’ I frown. ‘Too much cleavage?’

Matt stares thoughtfully at my breasts. ‘Definitely not enough.’

I roll my eyes.

‘Bo,’ Connor interjects, ‘you’d be better off getting a woman to do this. Dahlia is downstairs. She can…’

‘I’m going on a date with a man, not a woman,’ I say firmly. The last thing I want is her inside my flat. ‘I need a male perspective. Let me try one more.’

He groans. ‘Please no.’ Holding out both his wrists, he pleads with me. ‘Drink me dry, Bo. Take every drop of blood I have. Just don’t subject me to any more.’

I point at him. ‘Stay.’

Connor looks desperately at Matt who shrugs. ‘I can only do what I’m told.’

‘This is for the good of all vampires,’ I tell them both sternly.

‘And it’s about time you had some sex,’ Matt agrees.

‘There will be no sex!’ My voice is shrill. ‘It’s for show.’

‘Of course, Bo. You’re always right.’

‘Damn right I am,’ I grumble. I turn towards the bedroom. ‘I saw that!’ I call, looking back to see Matt nudge Connor. The pair of them stare at me, guilt written across their faces.

Back at my wardrobe, I flip through the remainder of my clothes in frustration. In one regard, Matt is correct: it’s been a long time since I’ve been on any kind of date. These days I’m so used to wearing jeans and a T-shirt – not forgetting my leather jacket, of course – that I’ve almost forgotten what it’s like to dress up.

I pull out a tight sheath dress. I know I look good in it. The problem is that I need something I can move around in if I’m going to meet O’Shea later and breach the army base. I hang it back up and sigh, telling myself that I only care about what I’m going to wear because I need the press to believe I’m on a date. It’s got nothing to do with caring what Michael thinks.

In the end I pull on a little black dress and decide not to subject Matt and Connor to my indecision any longer. It might be boring but it’ll suit a date and it’s short enough not to hamper my movements when I need to spring into action-hero mode. And the colour will help with camouflage. I don’t want to waste a single precious moment of darkness doing something as mundane as getting changed. I’m tempted to put on a pair of flat shoes but Michael is canny enough to note them and realise I’m up to something. The last thing I need tonight is either him or his Montserrat sidekicks following me to Brigstone. I’ll go barefoot later when I need to – and the addition of some heels at dinner will make me feel less like a midget.

When I stroll back out, Connor is nowhere to be seen. Kimchi has plonked himself on Matt’s lap and is vigorously lapping at his face. At least my bloodguzzling buddy doesn’t seem to mind.

‘Connor told me,’ Matt says between licks, ‘that he’s got vital work to do for your grandfather.’

I half snort. ‘Anything to get out of a fashion parade.’

Matt peers over Kimchi’s head. ‘That one’s really boring. Don’t wear it.’

‘This from a man who was wearing a paisley shirt with a velvet suit a few nights ago.’

‘You asked me for advice, remember?’

I raise my eyebrows. ‘Are you feeling alright, Matt?’

He seems surprised. ‘Yes, fine. Why do you ask?’

‘Because,’ I smile, ‘that response was almost sarky.’

There’s a flicker of alarm. ‘I wasn’t trying to be rude!’

‘That’s not what I meant,’ I reassure him. ‘Maybe the effects from the spell are starting to wear off.’

His eyes grow wide. ‘I’m not sure I want them to.’

‘Why ever not?’

‘I wasn’t a nice person back then.’

I look at him sympathetically. I’d like to disagree but he’s right: pre-enhancement spell, Matt was a pain in the arse. ‘People change,’ I say softly.

He still seems miserable. ‘Try,’ he tells me. ‘Try to tell me to do something and I’ll do what I can to resist.’

I bite my lip. ‘OK. Um, lick Kimchi back.’

He scrunches up his face in a bid to avoid mindlessly following my instruction. It doesn’t work. His tongue lolls out and he licks a delighted Kimchi across his muzzle. ‘You could have asked me to do something nice,’ he moans.

‘Sorry. It was kind of cute though.’

Matt spits out a hair. ‘Yuck.’

*

After I let him off the hook and Matt leaves me in peace, I stare at Kimchi. ‘So,’ I say, wagging my finger, ‘this is how things will go. It’s important you pay attention.’ Kimchi’s tail thumps against the sofa. ‘When I give you the signal,’ I make a swiping motion with my right hand, ‘you are going to whine loudly and lie down. I’ll tell Michael you’re obviously sick and that I need to take you home. Got that?’

He barks. I nod to myself. ‘Let’s try it. Whine now.’ Kimchi barks once more and starts panting. ‘No. Whine. Like this.’ I give him what I think is a good impression of an unhappy mutt. Kimchi leans his head to one side and looks at me as if I’m crazy. ‘Come on. Give it a shot.’

He barks again. I shake my head. ‘No, like this.’ I whine again, combining the noise with my hand gesture.

Kimchi still looks confused but he does give a tiny whine in response. ‘Well done!’ I scratch his ears. ‘Now lie down and look sick.’

Unfortunately at that point the doorbell rings so naturally he ignores me in favour of rushing to the door and bouncing up and down next to it like some sort of demented yoyo.

‘Kimchi,’ Michael commands from the other side. ‘Sit!’

My mouth drops open as Kimchi does exactly as he’s told. ‘Traitor,’ I hiss, and gently nudge him out of the way to open the door.

Michael is looking damn good. He’s also far more casually dressed than I am, in dark jeans and a leather jacket in Montserrat midnight blue. If I’d known I could get away with denim, I’d have bloody well done so.

The corner of his mouth crooks up. ‘A dress?’

I frown at him. ‘I wear dresses but they’re not practical when I’m working.’ I emphasise the point. When I skip out early, the last thing I want him to think is that I have a job to do. He wouldn’t approve of breaking into an army base and, besides, this one is for me.

‘You look beautiful.’ His eyes, filled with serious intent, meet mine. I’m just not sure what the intent is.

‘Thanks,’ I mumble. ‘Can I bring Kimchi along?’

He draws a thumb across the stubble on his jaw. ‘It’s not the kind of place that normally allows animals.’ His smile deepens. ‘But you are the Red Angel. I’m not sure many people will try to stop you.’

‘I really hate all that stuff,’ I whisper.

His amusement vanishes. ‘I know. I know you don’t want to go out with me either. You’ve been dealt a shitty hand, Bo, and I’m sorry.’

I tug at my ponytail, suddenly feeling both awkward and vulnerable. ‘It’s not that I don’t want to go out with you, but you and me would be so … complicated.’

‘Would we?’

‘We’re supposed to be friends, remember?’

‘I think we agreed on friends with benefits.’ For a moment, his eyes spark again.

I swallow. Sensing the banter is making me uncomfortable, he holds out his hand. I eye it warily then take it, grab Kimchi’s lead with my other hand and step into the hallway to join him.

‘Wait.’ He snaps his fingers. ‘I almost forgot. It’s a shame you’re wearing black because it won’t really show up against that colour.’ He hands me a dark blue rose. ‘It’s been genetically engineered to match our House colours.’

‘I’m not technically Montserrat…’ I begin.

‘No,’ he interrupts me softly. ‘But I am. By giving you this, it’ll imply that you belong with me.’

I frown. ‘I don’t belong to anyone.’

He watches me carefully. ‘I said belong
with
, not belong
to
. Bad choice of words either way though.’

Looking at his expression, I’m not sure he really thinks that. I tuck the flower carefully into my hair. It scratches my scalp and feels unnatural but it makes sense to put it somewhere the press will notice it. That is what this is all about, after all.

*

Someone, I’m guessing either my grandfather or Michael himself, has tipped off one of the big tabloids. Not only are we snapped getting into the Montserrat limo outside my building but there’s also a healthy bustle of paparazzi outside the restaurant. Kimchi takes umbrage at their presence, growling and snapping at several of them who get too close. I glance at the dog with newfound respect.

‘Bo! Is this a business meeting?’

I smile prettily and wave, smoothing down my skirt to draw attention to its lack of material. ‘Yes,’ I say firmly. ‘We are discussing important vampire business.’

Michael looks down at me, a tender expression on his face. ‘Very important,’ he adds softly.

Several cameras flash in an excited explosion of light. Michael and I enter the restaurant without another word.

‘Do you think that worked?’ I ask him in an undertone.

‘From the pound signs I saw in every damn photographer’s eyes, I’d say so,’ he grunts. He sounds annoyed.

We’re led to a prominently positioned table in front of the window. Every patron in the place watches us take our seats. Kimchi, behaving for once, settles himself at my feet.

‘Ms Blackman?’ A well-dressed woman appears. ‘I’m Deborah, the manager of La Maison. I’m thrilled that you decided to join us tonight.’ She glances down at Kimchi. It’s clear what she wants to add but she’s too nervous to say it. ‘Lord Montserrat,’ she murmurs. ‘It is, of course, a pleasure to have you here with us again. If there’s anything I can do to make your night more enjoyable, please let me know.’

She melts away. I raise my eyebrows. ‘You come here often? With dates?’

‘A few times. I’m normally the one who’s acknowledged first,’ he jokes. ‘Being around you will be good for my ego.’

‘Is that a good idea?’ I ask tightly. ‘To come somewhere you’ve already been seen with other women?’

A tiny smile plays around his mouth. ‘You’re not jealous, are you?’

‘No,’ I snap. ‘This is make-believe, remember?’

‘So what’s your point?’

‘If you want people to believe this … relationship is special, then we should go somewhere new. Not where you take any old flame.’

‘Bo,’ he says with conviction, ‘this relationship is very special.’

A heartbeat later there’s another camera flash, making me blink and look away. ‘Good work,’ I mutter. ‘At least that photo will make it look like we were staring into each other’s eyes.’

His voice is low. ‘We were.’

I’m rescued from having to say anything by a waiter who smoothly offers us a bottle of wine – ‘compliments of the manager’. I accept graciously and take a sip. It’s hard not to wince at its tartness.

‘You can send it back if you don’t like it,’ Michael says, amused.

‘I’m sure it’s lovely. It’s just not what I normally drink.’ I pat my mouth with my napkin to hide my expression of distaste.

‘We have some good vintages back at the mansion. There are some even better ones at my apartment. I’m sure I can find one that you’d enjoy.’

I draw in a deep breath. ‘I’ll look forward to it.’

He raises his glass and chinks it against mine.

A shadow falls across the table. ‘What are we drinking to?’

Both Michael and I look up at the unwelcome interruption. ‘What do you want, Medici?’

‘Last time I checked, I was still Lord.’

‘Not mine,’ I spit.

Kimchi, sensing my antagonism, jumps to his feet, hackles visibly raised. Several people at nearby tables recoil and there’s a further flurry of camera flashes from outside.

‘Now, now, Ms Blackman, there’s no need to be rude. Although perhaps that’s what comes from being the media’s darling.’ Medici’s cold eyes sneer at me. ‘It won’t last, you know. The more they love you now, the more they’ll hate you later when it all goes tits up. And it
will
go tits up. You’re far too reckless to stay on the straight and narrow for long.’

‘You know nothing about me.’

‘I know enough.’ He pulls over an empty chair and sits down next to us.

‘Lord Medici,’ Michael says, the venom in his voice clearly audible, ‘this is a private dinner. If you wish to speak with either of us, please make an appointment for a later date.’