His mate couldn’t die. He wouldn’t allow his mind to consider it.
A night’s forced rest had done nothing to quell his rage. Jean Desmarais would pay for his crimes against the immortal world, including Anne’s pain.
“What’s the story from Terry?”
Brigid was silent.
“They still haven’t found Jean?”
“Terry found him. But Jean is claiming that Leonor is trying to frame him. Leonor, of course, is denying it, but some of her people are backing him up. Terry’s holding both of them at his old offices in the Temple, but it’s a mess. He has both the Spanish and French delegations under guard until he can sort things out. It’s a political nightmare.”
“Utter rubbish.” He turned and picked up his still-damp trousers from the night before, then put them on. “Did you and Carwyn go back to recover the ledger?”
“We did.”
“Send it with Ozzie. Have him and Carwyn meet me in the Temple. Does Carwyn know where Terry’s offices are?”
“Yes.” She put her hands on her hips. “And where are you going then?”
“I’m not waiting to get my hands on Jean. I’m taking the river.”
“You should stay with Anne.”
“I won’t face her again without Jean’s blood on my hands.”
“She wouldn’t want it, and you know that.”
“I want it,” he snarled. “Stay with Anne. Do not leave her side until I return. Carwyn can go with me. He saw the ledger and the humans on the ship. No one will doubt his word against Jean’s.”
Murphy walked out of the cottage without another word, then dived into the river from the secluded dock where Tywyll had dropped them off the night before. He felt the river move around him, muddy and alive. Stretching his senses, he swam upriver, dodging boats and fishes with equal speed until he was swimming in the murkier water of the city. He passed under the glowing lights of Blackfriars Bridge and searched the north shore of the river, looking for Temple Pier. Ignoring the surprised looks from humans boarding a dinner cruise, the shirtless man in dripping wool trousers cut through the Middle Temple Gardens, shaking off the river water as he walked barefoot through the park and into the narrow streets of the Temple.
The front of Terry’s offices looked like one of the many barrister’s offices in the neighborhood. Only a few knew they sank far beneath the street, providing river access for the vampire lord of London along with being the setting for many of his more infamous exploits. At one point, Terrance Ramsay had held the entire vampire population of London captive under the embankment for night after night as he questioned and executed anyone involved in the death of his beloved sire.
Now the old offices were mainly used for storage, construction…
And very quiet interrogations.
Roger stood just inside the door, but there were no other guards or security.
“Mr. Murphy—”
“It was the Frenchman,” he interrupted. “Where is he?”
Roger froze. “Are you sure?”
“As I’m standing.”
“Bloody hell of a mess, Murphy.”
“Where is he?”
“Downstairs, but Terry—”
“Carwyn and Ozzie will be here within an hour. Send them down. They have the ledger.”
Murphy had no intention of waiting for the ledger. He followed his nose down a set of stone stairs, the air growing damp against his skin.
Terry was pacing when Murphy entered the room at the foot of the stairs. Two figures were chained to the wall, both with hoods over their heads. Gemma sat opposite her mate, watching him and the prisoners in turn.
Ah, manacles. They never really went out of style.
“Murphy.” Gemma spotted him. “What are you doing h—”
“It was Jean.” Murphy walked to the chained vampire, picked up a Taser from the edge of a table, and placed it under the vampire’s neck, taking pleasure in watching Jean’s body jolt and shudder when he pressed the button. The Taser shorted out, and the water in the air rushed to him as his amnis went haywire, but Murphy drew it to his body, greedy for its elemental power.
He leaned in, not knowing if Jean could hear him or not. “I found your ledger, you greedy bastard.”
Terry was fuming. He pulled Murphy from Jean. “You come to my dungeon and—”
“He was keeping drugged humans on his boat, Terry. Anne bit one.”
Gemma gasped. “She’s infected?”
The rage fell from Terry’s face. “Murphy, will she—”
“She’s with her father now.” He turned and kneed Jean in the balls just to take the edge off some of his anger. “I have questions for this one. But you can let Leonor go, unless she’d like to participate.”
Terry walked grim faced to the other prisoner and pulled the hood off Leonor’s head.
“Reparations,” Terry said immediately. “I did not lay a hand on you. You know I had no choice. But reparations are yours. What do you want, Leonor?”
A furious stream of Spanish met his ears, but Murphy ignored Leonor’s enraged shouting. That was for Terry and Gemma to resolve.
He pulled the hood from Jean’s head and dropped it to the ground. The vampire was just regaining consciousness. Murphy reached up, grabbed Jean’s pinky finger, and yanked, pulling the digit from the screaming vampire’s hand without warning.
“You crazy bastard!” Jean yelled.