“Everybody can be forced to talk.” He tossed a wild look around the room, scanning it, searching for something.

“Not I. You have nothing on me, Keegan. You should know that.”

“Even you have a weak spot. Even you, Rose.” The vein in his temple throbbed, attesting to his quick temper.

“If I did, you’d never know. I’m the coldest vampire this side of the Mississippi, don’t you know that? I don’t form emotional attachments. Go ahead, destroy my house. See if I care.”

She didn’t. As a human she’d grown up in wealth; as a young vampire she’d lived on nothing until she’d carved out an existence for herself and finally amassed more wealth than her parents had ever dreamt of. Yet material things meant nothing to her.

Keegan’s eyes narrowed as he swept the room once more with his searching gaze. When his eyes fell on the antique desk where she’d penned her letter only minutes earlier, he paused.

The desk was clean of clutter, except for two items: a fashion magazine and a pen.

He crossed the distance to it with the preternatural poise their species was graced with and picked up the ink pen. Its cap lay on the pristine surface of the desk.

“Been writing your memoires, have you?”

She tried for a nonchalant shrug. “Would you like a copy when I’m done?”

“And read what? The drivels of a whore who’s as cold in bed as a block of ice? A frozen turkey would have provided a more welcome hole for my dick.”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” she countered. “Your dick won’t even fill the cavity of a rabbit.”

A partial chuckle escaped one of the thugs, before he could stop himself. Big mistake, as it turned out: in vampire speed, Keegan leapt at the guy and plunged a stake into his chest, turning him to dust.

His eyes were glaring red when he turned back. “Anybody else have an opinion on that?”

Rose felt the two vampires who were still restraining her freeze at their boss’s question.

“Didn’t think so.” Keegan returned to the desk. “So where were we?”

He tapped his finger against his temple in mock thought. “Ah, I remember, we were discussing what you were using this pen for.” He motioned his hand to the otherwise empty desk. “Considering that I don’t see any unpaid bills here, I have to assume you weren’t writing checks.”

She lifted her chin and kept her face expressionless. Inside, she was shaking. But decades of having to lie and cheat, to bluff and pretend, had taught her how to keep her poker face. And how to change the subject.

“Maybe I was extolling the virtues of your miniscule dick by writing a poem about it.”

This time, her insult didn’t have the same effect. Keegan merely chuckled. “Nice try, Rose. But even you don’t beat a dead horse, and—” He turned and motioned to the spot where he’d only moments earlier killed his associate. “—we’ve already laid that subject to rest. But thanks for telling me that I’m on the right track.”

With horror, she watched as he rummaged through the desk, pulling out drawers and emptying them, tossing their contents to the ground. Bills, pens, and office supplies fell on the carpet. When the last tiny drawer and its contents tumbled to the floor, Keegan let out a frustrated huff.

“Fuck!” he cursed.

An involuntary sigh of relief escaped her tense lungs, so tiny she thought nobody had noticed, but Keegan’s head snapped to her. He tried to penetrate her with his look.

“It’s there, isn’t it? Your Achilles Heel.”

His head turned back to the desk and the only item that remained on it. “Of course.”

He picked up the magazine and shook it. From its pages, a single sheet of paper fluttered to the floor. He caught it before it reached the ground. “Gotcha.”

Rose’s heart sank.

With a triumphant grin, his eyes flew over the words she’d written, before he looked back at her, chuckling. “Well, well, Rose. Who would have thought that you had a heart? Had me fooled long enough.”

Then he pointed to the letter, snapping his fingers against it. She knew what was coming. He now had a means to force her. To use her love for her own flesh and blood against her.

“The way I see it, you have two choices: give me back what you’ve stolen from me and I let your little grandson live . . . ” He made a dramatic pause. “Don’t, and I’ll kill him.”

A helpless gurgle escaped her throat. Because of her, Blake would suffer. But she couldn’t sacrifice so many lives in exchange for just one, could she? If she gave Keegan what she’d taken from him, he would have the means to control so many lives and destroy those who opposed him. He would grow too powerful to defeat. She couldn’t allow that, not to save just one single life.