ANNE tried to watch silently as Terry berated his chief of security, but it was difficult. She wondered if Murphy could be as cruel.
“Not my style,” he said almost silently, as if reading her mind.
“What?”
“Terry and I have very different governing styles. I generally find a subtler approach to be more effective.”
“Roger is quite brave to speak up when he’s in this mood though, isn’t he?”
“That would be why Roger is bleeding,” Brigid said.
Murphy said, “That would also be why Roger is his first lieutenant. Do you think Tom and I have never gone a few bloody rounds, Brigid?”
Anne nodded behind Murphy’s back. Some of Murphy and Tom’s fights had been epic.
“He’s not actually going to cut off part of his arm since Cormac was injured that way, is he?”
Murphy pursed his lips. “No. Probably not, anyway.”
Brigid was looking over the shoulder of a young human with a laptop. It was one of Declan’s pair of “hands” that he’d sent from Dublin.
“What’s that?” Brigid asked, pointing to the screen. “Can you zoom in?”
The human tensed. “It will short out if you get too close. See what the screen just did? I just managed to get into their system, and I don’t want to have to start all over. Please stand back, Ms. Connor.”
“But there was something—”
“It’s not like the telly,” the young man said through gritted teeth. “Do you understand the concept of camera resolution? There are only so many—”
“Freddie.” Carwyn wandered over and patted the young man’s arm before Brigid started steaming. “Just do the best you can.”
Murphy looked away from Terry and Roger. “Lad, move to that table. There’s better light. Let us know when you have something.”
“Yes, Mr. Murphy.”
“And Brigid?”
“Yes, boss?”
“Take a deep breath and tell me what the story is before the O’Briens arrive.”
Just as Brigid began to summarize, Anne saw Gemma motion to her from the doorway. Anne touched Murphy’s hand and nodded toward the door. He smiled and pressed a quick kiss to her palm before she left, then turned back to Brigid and Carwyn.
Anne walked to the doorway, where Gemma was watching Terry and Roger.
“A courier from your sister will be arriving in a few minutes,” Gemma said. “Will he need accommodations?”
“No, but thank you.” Anne glanced at Terry and his lieutenant. “Will poor Roger survive?”
Gemma pursed her lips. “Terry’s angry, but Roger is his best man. This was, sadly, unavoidable. We cannot protect those who don’t want to be protected. Rens refused our security, as did Cormac. The O’Briens can bluster, but that’s all they’ll do. Bastiaan Anker, on the other hand, is a total mystery.”
Anne tried not to wince. If Bastiaan Anker was as protective of his sibling as Mary was of her, there would be hell to pay.
“And the others?” she asked. “Have we heard from Jean and Leonor? What about Jetta?”
“All accounted for. There is enough of a French community here in London that Jean uses their resources when he’s in town. Jetta’s chief of security has worked very closely with us while they’ve been here, as has Leonor’s.”
“Do you think the summit can continue?”
Gemma paused. “I honestly don’t know.”
“Do you think stopping it was the goal?”
Gemma shook her head. “Then why not target Terry or me? Or the meeting locations? There are any number of ways to halt meetings, if that’s all that was wanted. Killing Rens was a drastic step. He must have known something the killer didn’t want to get out.”
Anne couldn’t help but think about Murphy’s meeting with Rens the night before. They’d spoken of Oleg. Could the Russian have been watching? Did he know? Anne didn’t even know if her knowledge of Oleg was pertinent to the discussion about shipping. Who wanted to quiet Rens Anker so much that they would kill him and risk the wrath of his powerful clan?
A butler came in and announced Robert’s arrival.
Mary’s messenger squinted as if the low light in the hallway was simply too much for him. Anne had finished her notes for Mary after Murphy had fallen asleep the night before. She handed over her packet and took the one he held out for her.
“Robert, much has happened during the day. Please see one of Brigid Connor’s people for a briefing before you go. I want Mary informed.”
“Yes, Dr. O’Dea.”
“How is everything in Belfast?”
“Your sister is well and healthy.”
“That will be fine.” The little man gave her the shivers. “You’re dismissed.”
“Yes, madam.”
Gemma watched him walk away. “He’s quite something, isn’t he?”
“I do not like him, but he’s absolutely loyal to Mary. I don’t know the details, and I don’t want to.”
“Like most things in politics, it’s probably more palatable that you don’t.”
“Gemma?”
The Englishwoman was watching Terry intently. “Hmm?”
“What is it like? Being consort to a leader like Terry?”
Gemma turned to her. “I never wanted to be so visible, to be honest. But I found that there were many things I could accomplish more effectively in a leadership role. It was a political arrangement from the beginning, Anne. So I’m not sure if there is much wisdom I can offer you if you’re seriously considering Murphy.”
“Would you be happier if Terry gave up the city? Lived a quieter life?”
Gemma looked surprised. “Of course not. That wouldn’t be him. Or me. Not anymore.” She cocked her head, still watching her mate. “I’ve grown into a different person with Terry. I like myself more for it.”
“So it’s worth it?”
“Oh yes.” Her eyes heated. “I would fight to the death for that man.”
“Madam.” An older butler approached Gemma.
“Yes, Adams?”
“The O’Briens have arrived.”
“Which ones?”
“Mister Cormac O’Brien and Miss Novia O’Brien.”
“Thank you, Adams. Please escort them to the library and fetch them in… five minutes, please.”
Anne nodded to Terry. “Do you think he’s finished?”
“He will be.”
Gemma walked over and touched Terry’s shoulder. The vampire spun, baring his teeth. Gemma grabbed the front of his jacket and yanked him down, pressing her mouth to his. Anne saw a trickle of blood fall down Terry’s chin. Roger, his jacket mussed and his lip bloody, looked relieved.
Anne could feel Murphy’s eyes on her. She walked over and sat next to him.
“If I lose my temper like that, will you bring me to my senses by kissing me?”
“No,” she said. “You throw too fast a punch. I might have Carwyn do it for me.”
Carwyn asked, “Do I have to kiss him?”
“Only if you want to.”
“I’ll have to think it over.” Carwyn sniffed. “He’s not my type at all.”
Brigid barked a laugh from the table where she was still hovering over the young man on the computer. Then she yelped and pointed to the computer. “There!”
“Yes, I see it. Give me a moment…” The young man’s fingers flew over the keyboard. “And… there. That’s the best I’ll be able to do. These cameras are not designed for night surveillance.”
Cormac and Novia were announced. The vampire stalked in, his sleeve hanging half-empty and a thunderous expression on his face. Novia’s face was unreadable.
“Ramsay!”
Gemma held up both hands. “Cormac, don’t start. You are the one who refused our protection. There’s only so much we can do—”
“Why the hell did this happen? I’m here less than a week! My daughter, Ramsay. My only daughter!”
“Who is fine,” Novia said quietly.
“Lamar did his job. The guy never even touched me.” She looked around, her eyes landing on Carwyn. “Thank you so much. The doctor you sent saved his life. The ones at the hospital said he’d be dead if he hadn’t gotten blood so quickly.”
“I’m glad I could help,” Carwyn said. “Gladder to hear that he’ll recover. He sounds like a good man.”
Anne said, “Cormac, how are you feeling? Your arm—”
“It’ll grow back.” He tossed up his sleeve. “Eventually. At least it’s my left one.”
“But Rens?” Novia asked. “Is he really… dead?”
“It appears so,” Murphy said. “Anne and I went by the house, and I don’t believe he could have survived that fire. Brigid, do you have the surveillance footage?”
“I do.” She twirled her finger, and the young man spun the computer around to face the room. “Roger’s people are trying to track down the private footage that might have caught your house, Cormac, but Rens and his people were staying on a relatively major road, so we were able to see the footage from the traffic cameras.”
“Clever,” Cormac muttered.
“As you can see,” Brigid continued, “Rens and his people entered an hour or so before dawn. The sun comes up. Traffic and all that…”
“Is there access in the back?” Cormac asked.
“A small garden, but no alley and no cameras. Matthew, slow it down a bit.” Brigid leaned over but didn’t touch the screen. “There. Point it out for them. The older woman.”
“Oh, I see her. She looks like a housekeeper or something,” Novia said.
“It’s the only human we see coming or going,” Brigid said. “That in itself is notable. This house, for instance, has security and servants exiting and entering throughout the day. But in the Anker house, we see no one but this old woman. A few minutes after she leaves…” Brigid waited for the recording to catch up. “The smoke is visible from the upstairs windows first, but it’s soon everywhere. An accelerant was used throughout the house. There were secured rooms in the basement, but they were gutted. There was no chance for the firefighters to save it. They focused on keeping the houses on either side from burning.”
Terry walked to Cormac. “I know your first instinct is to take your daughter and leave. Christ knows, I’d want to. And if you do that, I’ll understand, but I hope you don’t. Someone wanted you gone. That’s why they went after your girl. I want you both to be safe. Will you let my people coordinate with yours? Add some local lads?”
Cormac said nothing until Novia nudged him. “Fine,” he growled. “We’ll stay. For now. Consider this my happy mood—I had a big breakfast.”
“The question is,” Anne said, “what did both you and Rens know that made you targets for whoever is doing this?”
“Beats me,” Cormac said. “I’d never even met the man before I came here. His clan’s not welcome in my city.”
“Why not?”
Cormac looked at her as if she were an idiot. “Because I don’t want spies stirring up trouble and selling my information to the highest bidder? Who are you, anyway? You’re not Mary Hamilton, so why are you here?”
Murphy snarled. “Watch your tone, O’Brien. She’s Mary’s sister and my mate. Show some respect.”
Anne spun, her mouth open. “You presumptuous man. I can speak for myself.”
Murphy shrugged, and Brigid stifled a laugh.
“It’s true,” Murphy said. Then he smiled at Cormac. “She doesn’t always like me, but she’s still my mate. So watch your bloody mouth, O’Brien.”
“Fine.”
Anne decided to ignore Murphy. “Did you determine anything about your attacker before you killed him?”
“He tasted Spanish.”
“Dad,” Novia protested, “don’t be prejudiced.”
“What?” Cormac said. “He did. Or maybe he smelled like Spanish food. I don’t know.”
Anne thought Novia resembled a frustrated teenager dealing with a clueless parent. “He’s only saying that because when we went to visit Lamar, he said the guy was speaking Spanish during their fight. Like Spain-Spanish.”
“Was he sure?” Anne asked. “Accents can be difficult to determine.”
“Pretty sure,” Novia said. “Lamar’s my bodyguard, but he’s also my translator. He speaks like four or five languages. Used to work at the UN. If he said the guy was speaking Spanish, then he was speaking Spanish.”
“Interesting,” Murphy muttered.
Terry’s face was grim. “Where’s Leonor?”
ANNE was in the second car that drove to Leonor’s house later that night. She didn’t know what she’d been expecting from the Spanish regent, but the ultra-modern penthouse on the Isle of Dogs was certainly not it.
“This is where she lives?” Anne asked Murphy as they pulled up to the glittering high-rise.
“I think she owns the building,” Murphy said. “Very good investment. I own property here too.”
The neighborhood was mainly industrial, but Anne could see signs of gentrification.
“Interesting.”
“What’s interesting is the fact that none of Leonor’s humans are answering their phones,” Murphy said. “I don’t like this.”
“But she checked in earlier?”
“She did.”
Anne settled back and tried not to worry. She liked Leonor, who had always been a reliable ally for her sister, Mary. But first the Spanish vampire had been cagey about sharing information with others in the meeting, and then Cormac and Novia had been attacked by a Spanish-speaking assassin. It didn’t look good.
“Terry’s angry,” Murphy said, “but this is too easy. She’s too obvious a suspect.”
“He and Gemma were attacked in her territory a year and a half ago. She’s a competitor in the blood-wine business—”
“She’s also one of their grape suppliers.”
“True. But she does know more than she’s letting on about Elixir. Maybe she’s just being cautious, but maybe not. We don’t know, Patrick.”
He shook his head. “Nothing this complicated is this neat. I think she’s being set up.”
“By whom?”
“Whoever is actually behind this.”
“Someone who knows she’s been acting suspicious?”
“Yes.”
“Then,” Anne admitted, “whoever attacked Novia and Cormac—whoever murdered Rens—is someone at the summit.”
Chapter Eighteen
MURPHY STOOD BEHIND TERRY when he knocked on the door. Four humans flanked them, and Roger stood on his left. Gemma and Anne were waiting in the lobby with four other guards, watching for anyone who might try to exit.
“Leonor,” Terry said, his voice low. “Come out.”
Murphy said, “We just want to talk, Leonor.”
He heard her voice coming from the other room. “Send your men away. I’ll meet with you and Terry. That’s all.”
“Murphy, me and six of your men?” Terry asked. “Not a chance.”
“You know how many people I have with me,” she said. “I’ll send all but Gasper out. Your men wait with mine in the lobby.”
Murphy murmured, “Do it. She’s too smart to come at us directly like this, and we need to talk to her.”
“Fine.” Terry nodded at Roger, who backed up and stood against the opposite wall with his men while Leonor’s door cracked open. Three men and two women walked out. They stood across from Terry’s men, watching with narrowed eyes. Only a sharp command from inside the penthouse caused them to move. One by one, the soldiers walked down the hall and exited the stairwell.
Murphy was the first in the door. He decided to turn on the charm since Terry was sadly lacking in anything that resembled it.
“Leonor,” Murphy said, switching on a lamp that bathed the dark room in a soft light. “For the record, darling, I don’t think you had anything to do with this.”
“Some son of a bitch is trying to make it look like I did.” Leonor was spitting mad, stalking th
e length of the loft-style room, its wall of glass overlooking the city lights south of the Thames. Murphy noted that the vampire was dressed casually. She had donned worn denim jeans and a skintight black shirt that showed an impressive figure normally hidden behind business attire.
A handsome young man lounged behind her in similar dress, watching them silently with coal-black eyes. Gasper was Leonor’s lieutenant, a water vampire nearly as old as his mistress, and—according to rumors—her occasional lover. He watched them like the shrewd soldier he’d been in his human life.
There had been no official meetings scheduled for the night, and Leonor looked very much like someone who had planned to enjoy the abundant nightlife of the city. She didn’t look like someone who had been expecting to be the suspect in a murder.
“You’re angry,” Terry said.
A violent stream of Spanish almost blew back his hair. Gasper said something under his breath, and Leonor glared at him. Murphy saw her take a breath before she turned to them.
“I am angry. Terry, you know how much respect I have for both you and Gemma, but from the beginning, something about this summit bothered me. I couldn’t say what it was exactly, but I’m sure you knew I was withholding information. I did not trust Rens Anker, but I am not a fool to provoke his brother’s wrath.”
“Why didn’t you say something privately?” Murphy asked. “It was quite obvious you weren’t cooperating. It puts the rest of us in an odd position, Leonor. You look guilty.”
Leonor frowned at him as if she’d just noticed Murphy was there. “Why are you here?”
Murphy shrugged carelessly. “I was bored. I also happen to think you didn’t kill Rens or attack the O’Briens. If you want me to send Cormac, I’d be happy to fetch him.”
Leonor curled her lip. “The American is beneath my notice. I have no interest in him or his child.”
“So why did a Spanish-speaking assassin go after Novia O’Brien?” Terry asked.
“Because Spaniards are excellent killers?” Gasper said, his voice low. “We don’t control every human of Spanish blood in England, Mr. Ramsay. That’s your job, isn’t it?”