“Snout-Face.” He spotted a surveillance camera by the front door. “We’re being watched. Stop in front and wait in the car till I come around to your door.”
She braked and turned off the engine. “I don’t see any guards. It looks peaceful.”
“Appearances can be deceiving.” He climbed out of the car, and scanned the area. Listened. Nothing but the rustle of the wind blowing through trees.
He skirted the front of the car and opened Brynley’s door. “Stick close to me, so I can teleport you out if I need to.”
She groaned with frustration, then climbed out of the car and dropped the keys into her handbag. “Stop worrying so much about me, Phin.”
“Impossible, Bryn.”
Her eyes met his for a second, and a wave of desire ripped through him. He clenched his fist to keep from caressing her face and looked away. This was not the time. Nate’s house could be infiltrated with Malcontents.
“Come on.” He escorted her to the front door.
She glanced warily at the camera and pressed the doorbell. “It’s almost midnight. They may not answer.”
Phineas slipped his hand inside his jacket, ready to pull his weapon. When the last jangle of the door chimes faded away, he could hear footsteps echoing in what sounded like a large foyer. “Someone’s coming. Maybe it’s Nate.”
“No, it couldn’t—” She stopped when the door swung open and a well-dressed elderly man glared at them.
“It is a bit late to be calling, don’t you think?” he asked with a British accent.
A butler? Phineas removed his hand from his jacket. As far as he could tell, the man was mortal and not suffering from any vampire mind control. “We’d like a word with Nate Carson, if you don’t mind.”
The butler looked down his nose. “And you are?”
“Phineas McKinney, and this is Brynley Jones.”
“Nathan and I are old friends,” Brynley added.
The butler glanced at her. “Quite old, obviously, since you’ve never darkened this doorstep in the three years of my employment.”
“John,” a voice called from across the foyer. “Let them in.”
An annoyed look flitted over the butler’s face, and he lowered his voice. “Very well. You may come in, but do not overly tire Mr. Carson.” He stepped back and motioned for them to enter.
“Nate!” Brynley ran into the foyer.
Phineas followed and stopped short. Nate was hurrying toward Brynley. As fast as he could in his wheelchair.
“You seem surprised,” John murmured as he shut the door. “You didn’t know?”
Phineas shook his head. “I heard he was in the rodeo.”
“That was before his unit was called up and he was sent to Iraq,” John explained. “He jumped on some fellow soldiers to protect them from an explosion. Took some shrapnel in his back. Saved his buddies, but injured his spinal cord.”
Phineas watched Brynley hug her heroic friend and felt lousy that he’d ever entertained bad thoughts about the guy. “So he’s paralyzed?”
“From the waist down, yes. But he manages the ranch. By the way, I’m John Brighton, his personal valet and physical therapist.”
“Oh.” Phineas shook hands with him. “I thought you were a butler.”
John smiled. “My father was a butler. I’ll take that as a compliment. Good evening.” He inclined his head and strode away.
“Come on, Phineas.” Brynley waved him over. “This is Nate.”
“Hey, dude.” He shook Nate’s hand. “It’s an honor to meet you.”
“You too.” With a grin, Nate turned to Brynley. “It’s great to see you again. You’re looking good!”
“Thank you.” Her smile faded. “I should have come sooner. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t worry about it.” Nate waved a dismissive hand. “I heard that you’d flown the coop, and I was relieved you’d managed to escape.”
She winced. “You heard about that?”
“Everybody around here gossips about the mighty Jones family. According to the rumor I heard, your dad threw a big birthday party for you when you turned thirty, then announced you were engaged to be married. In three days. When everyone woke up the next morning, you were gone.”
She made a face. “That’s pretty much what happened.”
“Are you kidding?” Phineas asked. She was thirty years old?
“It’s true,” Brynley muttered. “My father arranged a wedding with a groom and a twenty-piece orchestra, but forgot to tell me.”
“Because he knew you would refuse,” Nate added. “Who was the groom? Some rancher from around here?”
She shrugged. “Some dude from Alaska. I never met him. He was supposed to arrive the day I left.”
“Your father has some gall,” Nate grumbled.
“Yeah, speaking of which—” Brynley lowered her voice. “I don’t want him to know that I’m back. I’ll only be here a few nights, and I really need to avoid him and his minions.”
“I understand. I won’t say a word.” Nate motioned toward an open door. “Let’s go into my office, so we can talk.” He started wheeling his chair in that direction.
Brynley held back, then whispered to Phineas, “Well? What do you think?”
“You’re thirty years old?”
She swatted his shoulder. “About Nate. Is he under vampire mind control? Do you think there are any Malcontents around here?”
“It looks safe so far. And your friend is fine.” Phineas rubbed his shoulder. “You don’t look like you’re thirty.”
“Of course not,” she hissed. “I’ll look this young for hundreds of years.”
“So will I.” He arched a brow. “We have more in common than you might think.”
Her face flushed a pretty pink. “You’re still a bloodsucker, and I’m a—”
“Snout-Face?”
“Shh.” She motioned with her head toward Nate. “He doesn’t know.”
“Okay.” Phineas accompanied her into Nate’s office.
“Can I get you two anything to drink?” Nate asked as he pulled open the door to a small fridge.
“I’ll take a diet cola.” Brynley took the bottle he handed her.
“Nothing for me, thanks,” Phineas said.
Nate dropped a water bottle in his lap, then wheeled behind his desk. “So what brings you out here so late at night?” He unscrewed the bottle and took a sip.
Phineas sat in the chair next to Brynley. “You had a ranch hand named Earl Giddons who passed away.”
“Yeah.” Nate frowned. “I heard he died last night. Terrible news.”
“Do you know what happened?” Brynley asked.
“Not really,” Nate replied. “Kyle found him and rushed him to the clinic in Ten Sleep. He’s supposed to report back to me, but I haven’t heard anything yet. When I called the clinic, all they could tell me was that Earl was dead on arrival.”
As far as Phineas could tell, the rancher was telling the truth. His heartbeat had remained steady. “Have there been any other strange occurrences lately?”
Nate gave him a curious look. “Are you with the sheriff’s department?”
“MacKay Security and Investigation.” Phineas pulled his ID from his wallet and showed it to the rancher.
“Interesting.” Nate examined his ID. “Never heard of them. It’s international?”
“Yes. We provide security for select clientele around the world.” They also conducted investigations related to the vampire world, but Phineas needed a safe way to explain his interest in Earl Giddons’s death. “We specialize in investigating odd, unexplainable events.”
