She was going to get to the bottom of this. If the direct assault didn’t work, well then she’d have to try a little subtlety.
By the time she walked away, she was already beginning to plan her next attack.
GRAY SAT ON THE floor with his back to the door, his head buried in his hands as he sucked in one breath after another. The beast still raged within him, and it took all his will to tame it, keep himself from flinging the door open and chasing after Carolyn.
How far would it have gone, if he hadn’t gotten control of himself? There was no doubt in his mind he would have fucked her, his glamour so fogging her senses she wouldn’t have thought to protest. His cock ached with frustrated desire.
What else would he have done? Even now, he felt his fangs pricking the inside of his lips. They had descended the moment he’d scented her arousal in the air, and from the moment they had, his senses had filled with acute awareness of her blood.
He heard the pounding of her heart, saw the pulse beating in her fragile throat. Had it just been his cock he wanted to bury in her?
He banged the back of his head against the door, and that hint of pain helped calm him, gave him something to think about other than his frustrated lust. Breathing slowly and steadily, he willed the fangs to recede. At first, it didn’t work, but as the final echoes of Carolyn’s footsteps faded, calm gradually returned.
All right. He’d just proved once and for all that he couldn’t be trusted around her. Even if he hadn’t bitten her, he would never have forgiven himself if he’d slept with her when her mind was too clouded with glamour to make a conscious decision. It would have felt like rape, no matter how eagerly she might have accepted him at the time.
He’d hated being rough with her, but perhaps it was all for the best. If she needed tangible proof that the Gray James she’d once loved and planned to marry had changed, that had been it. It used to infuriate her that whenever they argued, he stayed so calm he didn’t even raise his voice while she shouted and raged.
Wishing he could convince himself she would give up after that performance, Gray pushed to his feet. His revolting meal awaited him in the fridge. Maybe after he downed it, the bloodlust that still pulsed just below the surface would ease.
CAROLYN ARRIVED AT HER office at eight o’clock, though her agency didn’t open until nine. She needed to type up all her notes and gather up all the information for her current open cases. Not that this was a massive undertaking. Although the agency did well enough to get by, the same delicate looks that had made her fellow officers overlook her skills hampered her ability to gain the trust of potential clients. She just didn’t look the part, and there was nothing she could do about it.
Sighing, she started organizing the files and making sure another human being could understand her cryptic notes. By the time Hannah arrived at quarter to nine, everything was ready.
They’d never done quite enough business to warrant any secretarial help, so both Carolyn and Hannah had their desks out in the main office. When a potential client came by, he or she was greeted by one of the owners, not some flunky. Of course, there were a couple of conference rooms, where the clients could talk to an investigator in private, but Carolyn and Hannah had tried to make the place more open and friendly looking than most PI offices.
Hannah stepped into the office and reached for the light switch before she realized the lights were already on. She had rolled her frizzy curls into a French twist at the back of her head and wore a gray wool pantsuit that added about five years to her appearance. Her look screamed of capable womanhood, and Carolyn wished she could copy it somehow.
“You’re here early,” Hannah commented as she moved to the credenza in the waiting area and poured a cup of coffee.
“Yeah,” Carolyn agreed, wrapping her hands around her own cup.
“What’s up?” Hannah sat in front of Carolyn’s desk, regarding her curiously.
Carolyn cleared her throat, then pushed the pile of notes and files across the desk. “I was wondering if you could take over my cases for a little while. They’re all pretty simple.” She couldn’t help the way her nose wrinkled in distaste. “Simple” seemed an understatement.
After all the time and effort she’d put into trying to find Gray, it had seemed natural to become a specialist in locates—finding missing heirs and such, and skip-traces—finding deadbeat dads and others who skipped town without paying their bills. Somehow, it just wasn’t as satisfying to hunt down some cheapskate who refused to pay his bills as to bring a murderer to justice. Go figure. But the force had let her down in her time of need, and she was never going back.
Hannah put her cup down and pushed the files to the side, leaning her elbows on the edge of the desk. “This has something to do with Gray.”
Carolyn nodded. “I went to see him last night.”
“And?”
And I just about jumped his bones. Well, no, she couldn’t say that, now could she? She reached up and rubbed her upper arm, where this morning she’d found a set of finger-shaped bruises. She shook her head. “And I don’t think I’m going to do anybody any good as an investigator for a while.”
“Come on, Carolyn. You’ve gotta give me more than that.”
“There’s something very, very strange going on.”
“No shit?”
Carolyn narrowed her eyes. “I mean even stranger than I thought.”
“That’s pretty damn strange.”
“Right. Gray still won’t tell me anything, but there’s no way I can let this go.”
“So? What’s the plan?”
“I want to do a stakeout. If he won’t tell me what’s going on, then maybe I can find out for myself.” Hannah was silent long enough to convey her disapproval. Carolyn’s fingers skimmed over the bruises on her arm again. When Hannah still didn’t comment, she had to break the silence. “Okay, come on, tell me what you’re thinking.”
Hannah reached across the desk and took Carolyn’s hand. “Honey, I’m thinking it’s time you let this go.”
Carolyn jerked her hand away. “No way! I have a right to know why he left me, and, damn it, I’m going to get that explanation if I have to beat it out of him.” Not that she had any hope of doing so. What had happened to the gentle, mild-mannered man she’d once known? Last night, she had no doubt he’d intended that vise-like grip on her arm to be brutal. Where had that strength come from? That savagery?
“And then what?”
The question left Carolyn blinking like a fool. “Huh?”
“So you find out what happened three years ago, why Gray disappeared on you. Then what?”
“I don’t know.”
“Well maybe you should figure that out before you go poking your nose into something you may not want to know.”
“Hannah. You’ve known me what, ten years?” Hannah nodded cautiously. “Do you honestly think it’s possible for me to ‘just let this go?”’
Hannah’s sigh was both exasperated and understanding. “Not unless I hog-tie you and lock you in a basement somewhere.”
“So, will you handle my cases for me while I’m busy with Gray?”
Hannah pulled the files over and plunked the pile into her lap. “There, are you happy?”
The tension eased out of Carolyn’s shoulders. “Thanks, Hannah. You’re the best. Now I’m going to put together my surveillance plan.”
She rose from her desk, eager to begin.
“Carolyn.”
She turned to see Hannah regarding her with penetrating eyes. “Yes?”
“Why do you keep rubbing your arm?”
Carolyn quickly dropped her hand, but she couldn’t have acted more guilty if she tried. “Uh …”
Hannah stood up, dumping the pile of folders back onto the desk. “If he hurt you, I’m going to feed him his balls.”
Carolyn tried a weak smile. “It’s nothing. He just grabbed me and didn’t know his own strength.”
“Carolyn …”
“
Look, I shot at him the first time I saw him, okay? We’re now even.” She stepped in closer, putting both her hands on her friend’s shoulders. “I promise, if things start getting out of hand, I’ll call for backup. I know my limitations.”
“In regular life, I’d agree with you a hundred percent. I’m not so sure I agree when you’re personally involved. You could do yourself a world of hurt.”
Knowing she would never convince Hannah not to worry, Carolyn decided not to try. “See you later, mom,” she said, letting go of Hannah’s shoulders and striding to the door.
JULES LIKED TO THINK of himself as the epitome of dedicated professionalism, but tonight it had taken a supreme effort of will to roll himself out of bed to attend the weekly meeting at Eli’s house. His new mortal lover, Courtney, was a masterful bed partner, and when she’d shown up on his doorstep with mischief on her mind, the temptation to skip the meeting had nearly overwhelmed him.
In the end, sense of duty had prevailed, but he’d invited Courtney to wait for him. A smile twitched his lips as he remembered the promise she’d whispered in his ear when she sent him off.
His mind was still half-distracted by thoughts of the lovely Courtney when he stepped into Eli’s meeting room. The twenty-odd pairs of eyes that focused on him brought his mind back to the present. Eli looked at his watch pointedly, but refrained from dressing him down.
Even Eli’s massive room didn’t have enough seats for the entire population of Guardians to sit, so Jules took a seat on the floor. Off in a shadowy corner, he saw Drake leaning against the wall, his arms folded across his chest. The Guardians had put a marked distance between themselves and him, and if Jules didn’t know better he would have sworn he saw shades of resentment in the vampire’s eyes.
The meeting began with the more mundane aspects of Guardian life—finances, food supply, and a little petty bickering, which Eli quashed before it got out of hand. Then there were reports from various task forces who kept an eye out for news of murders that looked suspiciously like vampire kills. When it came his turn, Jules explained there was nothing to report on the Gray James front.
Finally, the topic made its way around to the Broad Street killer. Deirdre and Fletcher gave a summary of their week’s activities, but there had been little progress.
“He’s killed again,” Deirdre admitted, reluctantly. A quiet murmur passed through the room, then died. “Another young woman on Sunday night, and then there was a break in his pattern.” Her pretty brow furrowed with worry. “There was a thirtyish black man found in the subway entrance at Broad and Walnut. Same MO, throat slashed and all, except for the rape.”
In the corner, Drake cleared his throat, and all eyes turned to him. He had said nothing during Deirdre and Fletcher’s presentation, letting them speak for him. He’d have to be an idiot not to know he wasn’t popular with the Guardians. No doubt it was wiser for him to keep his mouth shut whenever possible.
“There was no break in the pattern,” Drake said, pushing away from the wall so he was no longer cloaked in shadows. “That was one of mine.”
No one made a sound, but tension crackled in the air. That’s what comes of using a Killer to catch a Killer, Jules thought in disgust. Only Eli looked unconcerned by the admission. Fletcher’s face reddened, and he was the first to break the silence.
“So, not only did you kill some poor fool, you fouled up the evidence so that the police will be thrown off target! Explain to me again how you’re ‘helping’ solve this case.”
Drake shrugged. “Do you really want the police getting close to this killer? Mortals are clearly no match for him, and the police would just get themselves killed. Better to throw them off.”
“That’s not the point!” Fletcher said, his agitation so great he shot to his feet. His fists were clenched tight, his knuckles white, and he looked ready to launch himself across the room. “I won’t have you killing people on my watch!”
Drake’s eyes narrowed and he took a step closer to Fletcher. “Eli, put your puppy on a leash before it gets kicked.”
That sent Fletcher’s temper over the edge, and he charged toward Drake with murder in his eyes. Drake bared his fangs and took a single step forward to meet the challenge.
“Stop it!” Eli bellowed.
Jules felt the power of that command down to his bones, even though it wasn’t directed at him. The air was still and heavy, stifling almost, and both Fletcher and Drake came to an abrupt halt. They eyed each other across the short distance that separated them, and hostility sparked between them, but neither stepped forward. Jules shivered as he read Drake’s face—Drake was trying to move, but he couldn’t.
“Let go of me, Eli,” he snarled, confirming that it was indeed Eli’s glamour that held him motionless.
“Will you control yourself?”
Drake’s fists loosened, and the aggression eased out of his shoulders. “If Fletcher will do the same.”
“He will,” Eli responded, and there was no mistaking the command in his voice.
Both Drake and Fletcher relaxed some, and the air suddenly became breathable again. They stared at each other a long moment, but Fletcher’s common sense appeared to have returned. If he’d actually managed to close with Drake, Drake could have killed him. Easily. Not that he would have done so in the middle of this gathering of Guardians, but still …
“My apologies,” Drake said. “I thought throwing the police off the scent was the wisest thing, but I should have consulted you before doing so.” He held out his hand. Fletcher eyed it suspiciously, then gave it a brief, insincere shake.
Jules let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding and eyed Eli as the tension drained out of the room and the meeting returned to order. The Founder had stopped Drake—a full vampire, with many years of kills under his belt—with nothing more than a word. Just how powerful was he, anyway?
More disturbed by the interlude than he liked to admit, Jules didn’t realize until the meeting had adjourned that the last true Broad Street kill had occurred while Gray was under surveillance. Apparently, Gray James wasn’t the Broad Street Banger after all.
It perhaps reflected poorly on Jules’s character that he was disappointed at the revelation.
5
CAROLYN HUNCHED DOWN IN her car and questioned her sanity. It was ten o’clock at night. The temperature hovered just above freezing. Rain pelted the windshield, making it hard to see anything. And she’d drunk the last of her hot chocolate over an hour ago. She crossed her arms over her chest and shivered, chilled down to her bones.
Gray’s house was at the corner of a long row of narrow houses with weathered stucco fronts. From her observations, Carolyn gathered that most of the original row homes had been divided into what had to be cramped apartments, housing anywhere from three to six residents. No doubt these apartments catered to the students at nearby U of P. Gray’s house was about twice the size of those around it, and she wondered how it had escaped the neighborhood’s transformation from individual residences to student apartments.
At first, she’d focused her surveillance on the daylight hours, when it was warmer and much easier to see. After a full week had passed without Gray showing his face even once, she’d reluctantly moved to a night shift. Aside from being dark and cold and generally miserable, the night watch made her far more conspicuous. During the day, there was enough foot traffic that she could disappear amongst the crowd. At night, she just had to hope no one noticed her. So far, no one had. As far as she knew.
Even during the night, Gray wasn’t exactly a social butterfly. He went out occasionally, but he didn’t do much more than wander the streets with no apparent purpose. Every once in a while, he’d shop, but never for food. Carolyn wondered how well stocked his kitchen was to keep him fed for three meals a day, this long. It wasn’t as if he ever went to a restaurant or ordered a pizza like a normal bachelor.
She’d thought she was getting nowhere. Then she noticed something much odder and more intriguin
g than Gray’s lack of social life: she wasn’t the only one watching his house.
There was an all-night coffee shop across the street from Gray’s house—the kind of place where the owners probably lived in an apartment directly above. Small and not terribly inviting, it did its best business late at night, when all other restaurants were closed and students needed a place to guzzle coffee while they crammed. Carolyn herself had more than once used it as cover for her stakeout.
Then one day, she’d noticed a man sitting alone in a booth by the window. She noticed him because he was so unlike the coffee shop’s usual clientele. Way too well dressed to be a student, she could imagine some of the female students pinning posters of him to their dorm room walls. Even sitting down, he looked tall, with broad shoulders displayed to best advantage in his tightly tailored shirt. Auburn hair long enough to run your fingers through, and patrician features that suggested he wouldn’t appreciate it if you did.
Carolyn was as fond of eye-candy as the next woman, but after taking one good look, she had dismissed him from her mind. But then she’d noticed he seemed to be staring at Gray’s house. A house that was nowhere near remarkable enough to warrant the attention.
He had lingered a long time, nursing a cup of coffee he never let the waitress refill. Then, when Gray emerged, he’d given a little start and hurried out of the restaurant.
Carolyn hadn’t set foot in the coffee shop since then. She didn’t want whoever else was watching to catch on to her.
After the first time, she’d had no trouble spotting the other surveillance. It wasn’t always the same person—there seemed to be a rotation, two men and then the sexy brunette Carolyn had seen Gray kissing. The brunette never made any attempt to hide, though the two men kept their distance. Gray would sometimes pause to glare at his watcher before continuing on his errands.
So, who the hell were these people? The easy assumption was that they were cops of some sort, but Carolyn instinctively knew that wasn’t true. For one thing, she sincerely doubted a cop would have kissed Gray while on surveillance.