Must Love Hellhounds

I’ve done, coming back to take a big bite of my ass.”
    The tightness in her throat eased. She strove to match the light tone his response invited. “That is unfortunate. Particularly as, in my professional opinion, the consequences of your actions are worse than you imagine.”
    “Why do you say that, Winters?”
    “Because you are much more than half -naked, sir. And although I have many talents, protecting you from mystical kar mic forces is not one of them.”
    He tilted his head, as if weighing that. “So chances are, I’ll lose my shorts before we’re done.”
    She ignored the little jolt in her stomach as his smile widened, carving crescents beside his mouth. In the humid air, his overlong hair had curled over his forehead and at his neck and ears. Combined with the smile, his dishevelment was unexpectedly appealing.
    The job, Maggie. “We’ll try to avoid that, sir.” Though unlocking the cuffs required touch rather than sight, she focused on her fingers. “Your uncle sends his regrets that he wasn’t able to come.”
    “I could hardly expect a vampire to catch an early-morning flight to New York.”
    Perhaps not a normal vampire, no. Even if one could rise from his daily sleep, he’d burst into flames at the touch of the sun. But Colin Ames-Beaumont wasn’t a normal vampire, and so he could have come—but his fiancée couldn’t travel during the day, and the vampire would never leave his partner unprotected.
    “I was the most expedient option,” Maggie explained.
    “How fortunate for me.”
    Fortune had nothing to do with it. After reading the e-mail, she’d convinced Ames-Beaumont to send her, citing the same qualifications that had led him to hire her: a level head, weapons expertise, and a history of successful troubleshooting missions.
    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