Chapter 2
She didn’t look like a killer. Her blue eyes were too clear. Her skin too soft.
She smelled of sex and embodied the best wet dream of his life.
But she didn’t look like a killer.
Which meant she probably was.
Brooks watched Cara through the two-way mirror. She sat in the interrogation room, legs crossed, fingers idly tapping on the wooden table. She’d been in there for over thirty minutes now. Alone. Every few moments, a ripple of anger or impatience would appear on her face, then disappear seconds later as her cool mask slipped seamlessly back into place.
Cara Maloan was even better looking than her picture had suggested. In fact, the woman was truly damn near perfect. Hell, yes, he could all too easily imagine her being able to lure those poor assholes to their deaths.
He’d never seen a woman more sexual. Even in the loose jogging pants and tank top she wore, there was no disguising her appeal.
The minute the door of her house had swung open, he’d realized an important fact. He wanted her.
Then he’d caught a whiff of her scent. Jesus Christ. He’d never smelled anything so good. Rich, like a woman’s sensual cream, but sweet, like flowers or champagne. A combination that had blasted straight to his cock.
He hadn’t just wanted her then. He’d hungered for her.
And the lady was probably a killer.
Damn if he didn’t just have the shit-poorest luck in the world. Or at least, that was what his father would have told him, rest the old bastard’s soul.
Todd exhaled and wondered for a minute what his dad would have thought of this case. Of Cara.
His dad. Tough and twisted sonofabitch that he’d been.
Todd had never meant to follow in his footsteps, but fate sometimes had a way of screwing up the best plans that a guy could make.
The door behind him opened with a squeak. He glanced over his shoulder, found his partner watching him with an inscrutable stare.
“You got the photos?” Todd asked.
Colin lifted the manila file.
Todd turned back to the glass, gazed once more at Cara. “It’s a real crying shame that a woman like her is a murderer.” Because he was still hard for her. Could still smell her.
“We…should be very careful with her.”
There was a hesitancy in Colin’s voice that made the hair on Todd’s neck rise. Stepping away from the observation window, he turned to fully face his partner. “What do you know?” Colin had held out on him during their last major case. The knowledge still stuck in Todd’s throat, and he wasn’t going to sit around and let the same shit happen again.
Colin’s stare darted to the woman. “I know she’s dangerous.”
A hard laugh broke from his lips. “Yeah, well, so do those poor bastards she killed.” And he knew it, too, but that fact didn’t stop the wanting. What the hell was wrong with him? He’d never been attracted to a suspect before.
Then again, he’d never had a suspect like her before.
“Something’s off with her,” Colin said.
Now he snorted. Yeah, Colin was sure one to talk about something being off. “Well, that’s ’cause she could be a female serial, and we both know that breed is rare.” He remembered a report he’d read back in the academy. Female serials accounted for only 8 percent of all the serial murders. The other 92 percent of the kills were by men.
But women were also said to be a hell of a lot more methodical and precise about their killing. A hell of a lot more careful with their crimes.
Maybe there were more female serials out there than the guys in the suits thought. Could be those women were just too damn good at covering their tracks.
Todd rubbed the bridge of his nose. “I think we might need to bring the doc in on this one.”
Colin stiffened.
The “doc” in question was actually Colin’s current lover, Dr. Emily Drake. She was a well-known psychologist in Atlanta, and the department had recently begun using her as a profiler.
Yeah, it would be a good idea to bring her in and see what she thought of their killer.
Colin’s gaze was still on the woman. “Yes,” he said softly, “maybe we should.”
But first…Todd reached for the file. “I wanna see how she reacts to these pictures, and then we need to get started on a photo lineup.” They’d taken Cara’s photo shortly after she arrived. They’d add it to some more images, show the pics to the desk clerk.
His partner nodded. “Already got a call in to the team.” He sighed. “But I’ll tell you now, man, I don’t think that guy will be able to ID her. Even if the man hadn’t been spending all his time staring at her chest, he reeked of booze.”
He’d noticed the heavy odor, too. “Right now, there’s not much choice for us.”
“I know.” Colin sounded as disgusted as he felt, and for a moment, it was almost like the old days, before the brutal case that had blasted them apart and sent Todd’s world spinning.
Todd’s fingers tightened around the folder. “The uniforms will still bring him in. Who knows? Maybe we’ll get lucky.”
“Maybe.”
In the meantime, “Let’s find out just what else our lady has to say about Michael House.” Because she knew the victim. He’d caught her slip, just as Colin had. Todd was going to make absolutely certain he learned all the secrets Cara was hiding.
A pretty face had never swayed him before. It sure as hell wasn’t going to stop him from doing his job now.
She was furious…and afraid. And the fear made her even angrier.
They’d left her in the ten-by-eight-foot room for half an hour. The minutes had crawled by as she’d sat and waited.
Something bad had happened to Michael. She knew it. Wasn’t going to be dumb enough to deny the obvious. She also knew that the cops thought she was involved.
Not an ideal situation.
Her fingers tapped against the wooden tabletop. She’d been isolated from the moment she entered the police station. If only she’d been allowed to see some of the other cops, she would have been able to use a bit of her power. She wasn’t gifted with the power of complete mind control—only level-ten demons could totally control the thoughts of humans—but she was still pretty damn good at planting hypnotic suggestions into the minds of susceptible humans, as were most of her kind. The hypnotic power was one of the succubi’s most coveted powers. Right then, she sure had a few suggestions dancing around in her head that she’d like to—
The door to the interrogation room was shoved open. It slammed back against the wall with a thud.
Cara sucked in a sharp breath, but instantly schooled her features. They wanted her afraid, so she’d be damned if she let them see her fear.Deliberately, she leaned back in the chair. “What took you guys so long?” As if she didn’t know they’d been watching her through that ridiculous two-way mirror. Humans. They always thought they were so smart.
But she knew they’d been watching her. Well, no, not them exactly.
Just the first cop. The human. Brooks. He’d been watching her almost constantly. At first, she’d felt his stare. Heavy on her skin like a touch. Then she’d turned to the mirrored wall. She’d seen past the illusion—she was used to peering past the veil—and she’d seen him. Standing in the opposite room. Fists clenched. Eyes on her.
His attention had fueled her anger. Her fear. And added a spark to the desire she shouldn’t have been feeling.
The man is trying to lock you up. Focus! Oh, damn, but she’d always had a hard time not thinking about sex.
And the guy oozed sex. Rough, wild sex. The kind that made a woman scream as she came.
Cara cleared her throat, and realized that neither of the detectives had answered her question. No big surprise.
The shifter—she’d learned his name was Colin Gyth; he’d finally gotten around to introducing himself during the ride over—walked slowly across the room. He stopped at the edge of the mirrored wall. The perfect position to observe, while not blocking the view from the hidden room.
Brooks stalked slowly toward her. He pulled out one of the two remaining chairs at the table. The legs of the chair scraped against the floor, the sound almost like a shriek. He sat down, positioning himself directly across from her, and placed a folder on the table between them.
Her gaze dropped to the folder and her palms began to sweat.
“Sorry we were gone so long,” Brooks said, and his brown eyes seemed sincere.
Liar. She knew the guy wasn’t the least bit sorry. The waiting—that had been a deliberate police tactic. One she didn’t like.
“I wanted to gather some information to show you.” He smiled at her then, a warm, friendly smile.
Goose bumps rose on her arms. “Is this what you do?” She asked, the question slipping out without a second’s hesitation.
He blinked. “Excuse me?”
Her fingers tapped against the table top. Her nails were bloodred and sharp, and she had to fight the urge to gouge them into the wood. “I asked if this”—she paused, gestured to him, the table, and the silent shifter—“was what you usually do.”
“This?”
“Yeah, this whole idiotic routine where you act like you’re the good one. Like you give a shit what I think or want.” Cara shook her head and her hair brushed across her shoulders. “Got to tell you, I’m really not buying it.” He was good at pretending, she’d give him that, and the bit probably worked great on humans. But for someone with her enhanced senses, it was an insulting waste of time.
She could smell the sweat on his skin. See the anger that tightened his eyes and mouth. Past the falsely warm gaze, she could see the core of power and the lurking fury.
Good cop? More like furious, hard-as-nails asshole.
Cara leaned forward, slapping her hands down on the table. “Why don’t we cut the games?” She asked. “Just get to the part where you tell me why the hell you drug me out of my house in the middle of the night.”
He stared back at her. One moment. Two. Then he pushed the file toward her. “I want you to take a look at the photos for me, okay? See if you recognize anyone.”
Gyth shifted slightly, a ripple of muscle and menace.
She didn’t want to look inside the file, but her fingers reached for it, anyway. Flipped it open and found—
Michael.
It was a black-and-white shot of him. Shoulders, neck, and head. His eyes were closed. His face devoid of all expression. For a second, one wild second, she thought he might be sleeping.
But the hope died immediately as the truth hit her hard, making her stomach knot and her lips tremble. “He’s…dead.” She bit her bottom lip, trying to stop the tremble. She didn’t want Brooks to see her weakness.
She’d been afraid he was dead, from the moment they’d mentioned his name—
Michael. He’d been the first to make her want more than just fleeting pleasure.
“What happened to him?” Cara was proud of the fact that her voice didn’t quaver. The words were stilted, a bit cold. But she was cold. Ice cold, all the way to her soul.
“Don’t you know?” Brooks asked softly.
A shiver worked over her body. “I didn’t have anything to do with this!” She’d never hurt Michael.
“Didn’t you?” Brooks leaned forward. “Earlier you told me that you didn’t even know the guy.”
“No, I didn’t.” She’d never denied knowing Michael. “I just asked you if his name should mean something to me.” Not a lie.
His lips thinned. “Why didn’t you just tell me you knew who the guy was?”
Good question. Not so easy to answer, but she tried, saying, “I was scared, all right? I didn’t know what was happening, didn’t know what you wanted from me—”
“So you decided to lie to me.” Turning slightly, his gaze met the shifter’s, for just a moment. “The innocent always lie, don’t they, Gyth?”
A growl was the shifter’s only answer as Gyth crossed his arms over his powerful chest.
Her hands slammed into the top of the table. “I didn’t kill him!” Then she shoved her chair back, needing more space. She didn’t want to look at that picture anymore. Didn’t want to think about Michael. If she did, Cara was very afraid that she’d break apart.
It was obvious the detective was out for blood, but she’d be damned if she’d give him any of hers.
“You can have a lawyer, you know.” Gyth spoke softly from his watchful position.
Yeah, she knew she could. They’d told her in the car. Said she could get an attorney if she wanted.
But Michael had been the only lawyer she knew. “I don’t need a lawyer. I haven’t done anything wrong!” This was an absolute nightmare. Cara squeezed her eyes shut, hoping she was just dreaming. Her kind dreamed, too—just like humans. Powerful, dizzying dreams.
But never a dream like this one.
Her dreams were sexy, often wild—but they were not nightmares.
“You got him naked,” Brooks said, his voice driving into her mind and causing her eyelids to snap open. “You tied him to the bed.”
She shook her head. “I was home. By myself.”
“Then what did you do? Drug him? Inject him with something?”
Her lips parted in confusion. “What are talking about?”
“How did you do it?” He rose, stalked around the table and loomed over her. “How did you kill him, without leaving a mark on his body?”
No! A sudden, terrifying knowledge swept through her, and for an instant, Cara was actually afraid that she might pass out. Her body began to sway.