Must Love Hellhounds

But Maggie hadn’t mentioned the “You can stop me, Brunhilda” written in the e-mail beneath the brownstone’s address, or that she had a very good idea who’d done this to Blake.

She grazed her fingers over Blake’s inner wrist as she opened the second cuff. He was perspiring in the stifling room, and his skin was warm. Warm, but not hot-and so not belonging to a shape-shifted demon acting as a decoy.

Blake’s large hand caught hers. It was difficult to remember that his eyes were sightless when he stared into hers with such intensity. “It’s good to know that you’re who you say, too.”

Maggie didn’t point out that she’d said her name was Winters. “There’s a needle mark on the inside of your elbow.”

Blake released her hand. “He took blood.”

That was… strange. “How much?” She didn’t think it had been too much; Blake’s color was good beneath his tan. “Can you walk? Were you drugged?”

“Yes. Some sort of sedative.” Blake lifted his jaw, exposing a swelling on his neck the size of a bee sting. “I was on the sidewalk outside my hotel. He pushed me into a taxi, told the driver I was drunk. I blacked out after that.”

And his abductor hadn’t tried to avoid being seen. Not a good sign. There were three primary reasons a criminal didn’t hide his identity: he wanted to be caught, he assumed he’d never be punished… or he already knew he wouldn’t get out alive.

“‘He’? You’re sure? And not a demon or a vampire?”

“Yes. Male. Human.”

That’s what she’d been afraid of. Demons were forbidden to physically harm humans, and so couldn’t do anything except tempt and bargain. Vampires weren’t bound by the same rules, but were helpless during the daylight hours.

But a human could be dangerous at any time-especially if it was the man Maggie suspected it was.

She prayed it wasn’t James. If it wasn’t, that meant she hadn’t made the wrong decision three years ago when she’d let him go. But if James had sent her that e-mail, if he’d abducted Katherine… she might have to really kill him this time.

And then flee to save her own life. When Ames-Beaumont discovered her deception and her connection to the man who’d endangered his family, the vampire would kill her.

After she sent his nephew home in one piece, perhaps he’d make it quick. And if she found Katherine, maybe Ames-Beaumont would let Maggie go.

Or at least give her a head start.

“Your clothes are in one of the other bedrooms,” she said, and stood. “Let’s get you dressed and head out.”

“Did someone come with you?” Blake asked.

Maggie glanced over her shoulder. Inside the bedroom, Blake was hitching his jeans up over a backside that, even chewed up by karma, still looked damn good. With his tall, leanly muscled build, all of him looked good.

But not flawless. A puckered scar marred his upper left shoulder. There hadn’t been a scar in front, so the bullet hadn’t punched through. Removing it would’ve required surgery, yet there were no gunshot wounds or hospital stays listed in his medical history.

According to his profile and the pile of write-ups from his supervisors, Blake did nothing at Ramsdell Pharmaceuticals but dick around behind his desks and research stations. According to his body, he did much more than that.

Maggie wasn’t surprised by the evidence his body offered. Although she hadn’t anticipated his blindness, she’d assumed there was more to Geoffrey Blake than his frequent transfers between Ramsdell’s international subsidiaries suggested. Even if nepotism and family connections had played a part in Blake’s employment history, Ames-Beaumont would never have relied on an incompetent man to lead the search for Katherine.

So Geoffrey Blake wouldn’t be inept-and no stranger to dangerous situations.

“No,” Maggie finally answered. “Except for a dog, I came alone.”

Blake cocked his head before giving it a shake. To Maggie, his silence seemed to be of confusion rather than just caution.

Or was it disorientation? She continued, “We’ll have your blood tested to make sure the drug-”

“No.” Blake turned, pushing his dark hair back off his forehead. “The Ramsdell offices in New York don’t have labs. We don’t send my blood anywhere else. I’m fine.”

She couldn’t blame him for his paranoia, not after he’d already had his blood stolen. “Very well. Are you ready?”

As an answer, Blake walked unerringly toward her. Guided by the direction of her voice, Maggie guessed. When he drew close and stopped, she had to look up at him. That didn’t happen often, whether she was in boots or bare feet.

Her gaze skipped from his knees to his ribs to his throat. A single blow would eliminate her height disadvantage.

But taking him out wasn’t necessary; getting him out was. “Have you trained with guide dogs?”

His expression tightened, but she couldn’t read anything in his face. “Yes. Uncle Colin sent one with you?”

“In a manner of speaking.” Maggie backed into the hallway and called out, “Sir Pup!”

The hellhound trotted into view and clambered up the stairs, his tongues lolling from each of his three enormous heads.