Two
I kept my attention on Madigan, not looking over at Don even though it was my first instinct. Mustn’t let on that there was a ghost in the room, and the question had been rhetorical since Don knew Madigan couldn’t hear him.
“Cat Crawfield . . . Russell,” I introduced myself. Okay, Bones and I weren’t married according to human law, but by vampire standards, we were bound together tighter than a piece of paper could ever make two people.
A wave of pleasure brushed against my subconscious, drifting out from the shields Bones had erected around himself as soon as our helicopter landed. He liked that I’d added the last name he’d been born with to my own. That was all the officiating I needed to decide that I’d be Catherine Crawfield Russell from this day forth.
Even though I hadn’t needed Don’s reaction to deduce that Madigan was going to be a pain in my ass, years of strict farm-bred manners made it impossible for me not to offer my hand. Madigan looked at it for a fraction too long before shaking it. His hesitancy revealed that Madigan had a prejudice against women or vampires, neither of which endeared him any further to me.
Bones stated his name with none of my hand-offering compulsions, but then again, his childhood had been spent begging or thieving to survive the harsh circumstances of being the bastard son of a prostitute in eighteenth-century London. Not being endlessly drilled about manners and respecting your elders like mine. He stared at Madigan without blinking, his hands resting inside the pockets of his leather coat, his half smile more challenging than courteous.
Madigan took the hint. He dropped his hand from mine and didn’t attempt extending it to Bones. The faintest expression of relief might have even crossed his face, too.
Prejudice against vampires, then. Perfect.
“You were right, weren’t you?” Madigan said to Tate with a jovialness that rang false. “He did come with her.”
For a second, my gaze flicked to Don. Good God, could Madigan see him? He was human, but maybe Madigan had some psychic abilities . . .
“With vampires, if you invite one spouse, the other is automatically included as well,” Bones replied lightly. “That’s an age-old rule, but I’ll forgive you for not knowing it.”
Oh, Madigan meant Bones. I stifled my snort. What he said was true, but even if it weren’t, Bones wouldn’t have stayed behind. I didn’t work here anymore, so it was not like I could be threatened with anything if Madigan didn’t like my attitude. And he wouldn’t, I could promise him that.
“What’s up with the ID check on the roof?” I asked to steer things away from the staring contest between Madigan and Bones that the consultant would lose. No one could outstare a vampire.
Madigan shifted his attention to me, his natural scent souring ever so slightly underneath its preponderance of chemical enhancement.
“One of the oversights I noted when I arrived two days ago was that no one checked my identification when I landed. This facility is too important to be compromised by something as simple as sloppy security.”
Tate bristled, hints of emerald appearing in his indigo eyes, but I just snorted.
“If you’re arriving by air, they kinda figure that after they’ve double-checked the identity of the aircraft, the crew, and the flight plan, whoever’s inside is who they’re supposed to be. Especially if you invited those people here. But if they weren’t, and they still pulled all the rest of that off, fake ID would be the easy part. Besides”—another snort—“if anyone got here by air that didn’t belong, you think they’d be able to get away with their aircraft in weapons range and several vampires able to track them by scent alone?”
Instead of being made defensive by my blunt analysis of how useless a roof ID check was, Madigan stared at me in a thoughtful way.
“I heard you had difficulty with authority and following orders. Seems that wasn’t exaggerated.”
“Nope, that’s true,” I replied with a cheery smile. “What else did you hear?”
He waved a hand dismissively. “Too many things to list. Your former team raved about you so much I simply had to meet you.”
“Yeah?” I didn’t buy that as the reason I was here, but I’d play along. “Well, whatever you do, ignore what my mom has to say about me.”
Madigan didn’t even crack a smile. Uptight prick.
“What does an operations consultant do, I wonder?” Bones asked, as if he hadn’t been busy using his mind-reading skills to eavesdrop in Madigan’s mind from the moment we arrived.
“Ensures that the transfer of management in a highly sensitive Homeland Security department is as smooth as it needs to be for the sake of national security,” Madigan said, that smugness back in his tone. “I’ll be reviewing all records over the next few weeks. Missions, personnel, budgets, everything. This department is too critical to only hope that Sergeant Bradley is up for the task of running it.”
Tate didn’t so much as twitch a brawny muscle even though the implied insult had to burn. For all the issues I’d had with him in the past, his competence, dedication, and work ethic had never been among them.
“You won’t find anyone more qualified to run this operation now that Don’s gone,” I said with quiet steel.
“That’s not why he’s here,” Don hissed. He’d been quiet for the past several minutes, but now he sounded more agitated than I’d ever heard him. Did becoming a ghost give my normally urbane uncle less control over his emotions, or did he and Madigan have a nasty history together?
“He’s after something more important than auditing Tate’s job performance,” Don went on.
“I’m particularly interested in getting caught up on your records,” Madigan said to me, oblivious to the other conversation in the room.