“Because,” Jax said, “For one thing, Lester’s eighty-one and a vegetarian.”
My brows rose. “A vegetarian werewolf?”
Jax shrugged. “You’d be surprised. Besides, we both know who killed that woman from downstairs, and it wasn’t a werewolf or even the lupine demon you saw prowling earlier.”
“No idea what you’re talking about,” I said.
Jax merely grinned.
I cocked my head, studying him. Now that the sexual tension between us was, for the moment, on hiatus, I realized there was something else. Something bigger than flirting or kisses or attraction that kept Jax coming back. I just wished I knew what it was.
When he headed for my bedroom, I hopped off the counter and started toward him.
“Whoa. Where are you going?” I demanded.
He turned back. “I’ll pull babysitting duty if you can get me a copy of the report on these alleged portals. And the location for where they’re holding Les.”
“You’re going to babysit?” I couldn’t help the disbelief coating the words.
Jax smirked. “Don’t sound so surprised. What do you think, I’m some kind of deadbeat dad?”
“You’re not a dad at all,” I pointed out. “She isn’t yours.”
He gasped then stumbled back dramatically, hand over his heart. “Just because she has your eyes and disposition doesn’t mean she’s not half mine,” he said. “Besides, I birthed her. I’m just as much her parent as you are.”
“Jax,” I said, trying not to laugh at the absurdity of this conversation now. Or maybe my sleep deprivation was kicking up a notch. “This is crazy.”
“Darling,” he said with a wink, “Crazy’s my middle name.” His brow wrinkled, and he tilted his head. “Speaking of which, what’s her name?”
I blinked. “I uh . . . may not have given her one yet.”
“You haven’t named her?” He made a tsk-tsk sound. “What kind of mother are you?”
“First, I don’t even know where her gender-revealing parts are,” I shot back. “Secondly, the last time I tried to come up with a name, she screamed bloody murder. Then she actually committed bloody murder. Between that and trying to save her from being eaten by a level six, I’ve had my hands a bit full for things like names.”
His face flushed like he was trying way too hard to hold back a laugh. “Fine. I’ll keep an eye on her today and come up with a name. You go to work.”
I frowned, wondering how the hell he’d scored the role of stay-at-home-dad out of all this. But then I thought back to how exhausting it had been to take care of that little carnivore and smiled to myself. As far as I was concerned, I’d just gotten the better end of that deal.
“See you for dinner,” I said, whirling and sashaying for the door. “I expect a hot meal on the table when I get home.”
The last thing I heard before I closed the door behind me was Jax’s low, rumbly voice. It was the same voice I’d already dubbed his sexier voice—all his voices were pretty sexy so this one was just sexier—as he called back, “Only if you promise to be the dessert.”
Chapter Seven
“Move.”
I shoved through the crowd in a voice that would have been less grumpy if I’d gotten any sleep this century. At this rate, I’d give a vampire a run for his money. Not that I’d met many of those since they’d become endangered. The only vamp I’d ever known, Faith Burkhart, had been my archnemesis back at the Tiff, but I hadn’t seen her since our final group test when I’d saved her from becoming a meal for an arachnid demon.
Nowadays, the only creature I knew with canines was my baby daddy in panther form—and, of course, my secret demon bundle of joy.
Ugh. Jax as my baby daddy wasn’t even funny to joke about in my own head. The only bright spot in that scenario was the hope that my little flesh-eater would puke all over her new father-figure. And gummy bears tended to stain.
When I reached the front lines, Adrik was nowhere in sight. I ducked underneath the yellow crime tape sealing off the alley and marched up to the officer doing crowd control. His uniform labeled him as a human cop, but I knew better.
“Excuse me.”
He turned quickly, a hand already raised in my face. “Whoa, whoa, lady, you can’t just come in here.” His Jersey accent was thick, and his expression pinched in some sort of egotistical show.
“I’m not a lady,” I told him, trying to restrain the urge to swat his hand away. “I’m an agent. A cleaner, actually.”
I flashed the badge Harvey had given me, and the officer’s expression went from shuttered to snobby as he read the “cleaner” title.
“All right, but you got your work cut out for you with this one,” he said, pointing at the grisly scene.
I did a quick scan, assessing. A second officer had begun photographing the bloody body parts strewn about, and another stood a little further back, talking to a man in a dark jacket and dirty jeans.
“You have a witness?” I asked, craning my neck to see the guy’s face over the heads of the rest of the SSF wandering around.
“Yeah. Victim’s nephew.” The officer shook his head. “What a way to spend your vacation, stumbling upon your dead aunt at four in the morning, right?”
Nephew? Shit.
I looked again.
Sure enough, Rourke stood chatting with a uniformed officer. His eyes had dark circles underneath like he hadn’t slept, and his open jacket was slung over the same shirt he’d been wearing the day before, now wrinkled.
Fuck.
He’d been the one to find Patrice? What the hell had he been doing wandering around here anyway? What had he seen?
He looked up and caught my eye, his stare holding mine for a long beat. His expression, drawn and downcast, hardened as his gaze intensified.
The officer beside me said something, but I didn’t hear him.
A roaring sounded in my ears as Rourke’s stare stretched uncomfortably. My fae senses shuddered with a sense of wrongness—for what, I couldn’t tell.
“Gem,” someone called. A deep voice. Someone familiar. My senses reeled. “Gem, are you asleep?”
The voice became accusatory, and a hand wrapped around my elbow, shaking me. My balance teetered, and I swayed.
Finally, Rourke blinked and turned back to the officer still questioning him, and I jerked my gaze toward the arm at my elbow, gasping.
“What the hell,” I muttered and blinked up at the figure looming over me now. I shuddered again, this time from pleasure. “Adrik.”
“Welcome back, Miss Hawkins,” he said wryly, dropping his hand. “How was your nap?”
I glared at him. Why was I always equal parts pissed and horny with this guy? “I wasn’t sleeping.” Was I? “Although, who could blame me if I were?”
He ignored that and turned to the officer beside me, his tone all business. “Do me a favor and watch the suspect.”
The officer scowled but stomped off without argument, leaving me to wonder what sort of introductions I’d missed during my fugue adventure a moment ago.
“Well, that was dramatic,” I said, watching Officer Do-Right shoulder his way past some human reporters who hovered at the mouth of the alley.
“It appears you’re not the only one who has a problem with authority,” Adrik said.
“Or just a problem with you.”
He paused as if considering that, and his eyes darkened as he studied me. “Is that it? You have a problem with me?”
“I …” I licked my suddenly dry lips because damn if he didn’t bake my brain when he looked at me like that. “I have a problem with your mood swings,” I told him.
His eyes darkened, and his gaze dropped to my mouth for a split second as he said, “And I have a problem with your disregard for the rules.”
My pulse sped at the way he leaned into me. Holy Hell, I could smell him, and the scent alone was enough to make me forget how to form words.
“And I have a problem with . . . you bossing
me around all the time.”
Adrik’s lips curved toward a smug smile. “Liar.” He leaned down, and I felt the full weight of his Nephilim power pressing down on me as he whispered, “I think you want someone else to take charge.”
His low voice shot a ball of need straight to my core, and I blew out a breath, too dazed to move or even reply.
He straightened, and the power backed off until I found my voice.
“If you’re looking for submissive, the gentleman’s club is down the road,” I told him.
Adrik’s eyes narrowed. “This gets us nowhere.”
“Is there a version of this that would get us somewhere?” I asked, stifling a yawn. “Because that somewhere is hopefully a mattress—”
I froze as my words registered.
A moment of pure awkwardness descended, and I tried not to think about how aware Nephilim were of things like blood pressure and pheromones. Because both of my levels were probably off the charts right now.
Finally, Adrik cleared his throat and glanced toward the crime scene.
“Here’s what we know,” he said, back to business.
I’d never been so glad for his work-focused attitude.
“Patrice Winslow. Registered witch. Resident of your building for the past twenty-eight years where she ran a business as a clairvoyant-for-hire.”
I wanted to ask why he was sharing case information with a cleaner, but anything was better than trying to come back from my mattress comment, so I let him talk.
“She was found about an hour ago, there,” he went on, gesturing toward the bloody scene complete with spatters on both walls of the bordering buildings. “Her nephew, Rourke, came looking for her when she didn’t return home from her bridge group last night. He found her like this and called it in. Our team arrived shortly after and set up a perimeter.”
I did a quick assessment as he talked, noting that the officers had made sure to mark off a wide berth and then blocked the worst of the scene using an unmarked van I was sure belonged to our people. Humans couldn’t tell our crime scenes from theirs as long as we were careful.
“Do you know how she died?” I asked, doing my best to sound interested yet detached.
Or however innocent people were supposed to sound.
“Her injuries are consistent with a large animal. Claw and teeth marks indicate a shifter—a large one.”
I tried to look where he pointed out the specific parts of Patrice that backed up these theories, but it was a little much—especially when I kept seeing flashbacks of the same bits of sinew and bone hanging from a certain demon baby’s mouth.
“We also theorize the killer had an accomplice or maybe even offspring with them at the time of the attack.”
“Offspring?” I frowned. “Why do you think that?”
“Handprints.” Adrik pointed at a small handprint pressed into the blood that’s now nearly dried at our feet.
“Shit balls,” I muttered, peering down at the tiny four-fingered outline.
Had Adrik noticed the shape and digit-count was neither human nor werewolf?
“A sentiment the department agrees with,” Adrik said, and I backed away, pretending disinterest. “Especially considering Les Harper was found alone. Which leaves another suspect still out there. And if he’s taught an adolescent how to kill like this, we might have a serious problem on our hands if the kid decides to go hunting alone.”
I sighed.
Adrik wasn’t wrong. Adolescent supes, in general, were unpredictable. A temper tantrum gone wrong, especially from something like a newborn shifter-predator, could easily level a neighborhood.
In my case, the risk was even greater. A greater demon, to be exact.
“Fucking hell,” I said, earning a questioning look from Adrik.
His brows rose. “Your vocabulary this morning is impressive.”
I scowled. “Says the immortal who doesn’t need sleep.”
I braced myself for some snarky retort about sleeping when he was dead or something similar, but instead, Adrik’s nose wrinkled.
“What?” I demanded.
He sniffed, eyeing me. “You smell like . . .”
“I smell like what?” I prompted when he didn’t answer.
His gaze darted toward where the corpse—or what was left of it—was finally being prepped for cleanup. “Nothing. It’s probably just the direction of the wind.”
I bit my lip as I realized what he meant. I smelled like Patrice. Or an overcooked version of her anyway.
Ugh. Why hadn’t I showered before coming to work a crime scene I’d already fled?
I turned back to where one of the reporters had just tried ducking underneath the tape and making a run for the crime scene. Three SSF agents were instantly on her, lifting her clear off her feet as they carried her out of the alley before letting her go again. The commotion drew others, and I used all the shuffling as an excuse to move away from Adrik and his super-sniffing nose.
“So, if this Lester guy was found alone, what makes you think he’s our guy for this?”
Adrik’s expression tightened. “He’s not my guy—”
“Hey, Romanov.” A hand landed on Adrik’s shoulder as a man stepped up beside us. “Holdin’ down the fort for me, I see.”
Adrik tensed. “Raguel. I didn’t expect to see you here.”
“Yes, well, the council has decided we need to get out more. Become more involved with the people.” He leaned in, lowering his voice as he added, “Selaphiel wants us to work on our image.”
“I see.” Adrik’s expression gave away nothing.
The stranger didn’t seem to notice. Sharp eyes landed on me, and the man’s mouth curved into a smile that made me feel dirtier than the smell of burnt flesh still clinging to my skin. “And who’s this? You working with a partner now?”
“My new cleaner. Gem Hawkins,” Adrik says, motioning between us. “Gem, this is Raguel of the Nephilim council.”
Council.
As in, one of the six?
I blinked as recognition dawned.
Holy shit, this guy wasn’t just Nephilim. He was one of the original six Nephilim that made up our entire earthly government. Our ruling body.
The council was known for two things: remaining uninvolved in the daily lives of supernatural affairs—or world affairs, period—and showing off their power. One wrong move, and this guy could turn me to dust with probably nothing more than a scratch of his ass.
I attempted to rearrange my glare into a smile. “Hello.”
Raguel cocked his head, his piercing gaze lingering on my face. “You look familiar. Have we met?”
“Not unless you’ve ever ordered a sandwich from Lila’s on Seventh,” I told him. His brows rose questioningly. “It’s where I worked before I was recruited into the academy,” I explained.
“Hmm, I see. No, can’t say I have. Still…” He rubbed his chin. “There’s something about you.”
I glanced at Adrik, but his face remained impassive.
“No matter,” Raguel said, waving it off. “I wanted to let you know I’ll be taking over the investigation once you turn in your report from the scene.”
“What about the suspect?” Adrik asked.
I glanced at the SUV parked at the curb and the uniformed officer still guarding it.
Since when did Adrik handle suspects?
I thought we were cleaners.
“He’ll be delivered to headquarters, and we’ll take it from there.”
“We haven’t questioned him yet.” Adrik frowned. “I was given orders to take point, considering the similarities between this and the attack out in Woodlake.”
“No need. As I said, we’ll handle both investigations from here. The council considers attacks this brutal and this public a top priority. They feel that a werewolf with this much aggression and disregard for our secrecy should be dealt with swiftly to discourage any other similar crimes.”
Dealt with.
I knew a politi
cal term when I heard one.
“You’re going to put him down?” I asked.
“We’re going to make this city safe again,” he said as if they were one and the same.
“But you have no evidence against him,” I said.
His eyes narrowed fractionally. “I didn’t realize cleaners were privy to case details.”
Beside me, Adrik’s hand brushed my arm in silent warning.
I pressed my lips together to keep from responding. My ovaries, however, didn’t heed such warnings. I did my best to rein in the buzzing attraction caused by Adrik’s touch.
Raguel watched me for another moment before turning back to the tall-dark-and-delicious Nephilim beside me.
“It looks like you have cleanup well in hand,” Raguel said. “The council will be glad to hear it, especially Selaphiel.” He winked then clapped Adrik on the back hard enough to send Adrik lurching forward with a grunt. “I’ll leave you both to it. Gem.”
He flashed a smile that I suspected had probably moved mountains once or twice. Or maybe leveled armies.
I blinked, dazed, wondering vaguely who Selaphiel was and why the name warranted a wink.
“Let’s get a drink sometime, old friend. Catch up,” he told Adrik.
Adrik grunted something, his features hardened and completely blank, and Raguel strode off. I watched while he stopped to chat with the officers on the scene before getting into the backseat of an expensive-looking sedan and driving off.
Adrik still hadn’t moved.
“You sleeping on the job?” I gave him the same line he’d used on me earlier, hoping to lighten the mood.
Adrik’s eyes flashed. “Apparently. Come on.”
He took off toward the street, and I hesitated. But one look in the other direction had me hurrying after him. Rourke had just finished up with the officer and was headed this way.
I positioned myself beside Adrik and tried to look busy. My shoulders tingled with the awareness of Rourke’s gaze on me, but I didn’t turn back. There wasn’t a demon’s chance in hell I wanted to answer any of the questions he would undoubtedly ask me if I let him catch me here.
We reached the mouth of the alley just as the cleaning support crew, aka the “Jims,” began unloading their creeper van. One of them tried handing Adrik an empty body bag and a jug of acid, but Adrik strode past him without so much as a second look.
Knock Em Dead (Supernatural Security Force Book 2) Page 9
