by Jane Hinchey
"Sorry." Geez. Wolves and their senses. I hated this time of the month.
Turning my attention back to my screen, I typed in Crimson Mist Nightclub and clicked the link to the club's official website. Owned by Nate Wilder, managed by Xavier Elizondo. The website didn't reveal much. A listing of guest DJs and events they had coming up. Humans and supernaturals welcome. Beverage listings, including synthetic blood. Crimson Mist was located in Mistlyn, the south side of town and east of the Amuletic River. Mistlyn's old loading docks and cobblestone streets hinted at the former warehouse district’s past, while stylish bars and gleaming lofts pointed to its modernization. Crimson Mist was on the waterfront, one of the converted docks. Prime location. Must have cost a pretty penny.
A report notification appeared in the top right-hand corner of my screen. I bookmarked the Crimson Mist web page and closed the browser, enlarging the incoming report with a swipe of a finger.
"Yep. Just like we thought, Carter. Body dump. Allena Niles was not killed at the warehouse where she was found. Looks like the kids who found her got in the same way as our killer, broken door on the west side of the warehouse. Tire marks right outside."
"Owner is one Nate Wilder." Carter had pulled up the report.
"Hang on. I know that name." Yes. The owner of Crimson Mist. I pulled up the nightclub's website again to double-check.
"Carter!" My voice rose in excitement. "Guess who owns Crimson Mist?"
"By your voice, I'm guessing Nate Wilder?"
"Yes!"
Punching Nate's name into the SIA database, my breath hitched when his mug shot appeared. Shirtless, hands on hips, he was magnificent. My fingers itched to trace the hard outline of his well-defined abs, down to the black jeans that hung low on lean hips. Curving over one shoulder and around the bicep of his left arm was a tribal tattoo, thick swirls in black ink. Short brown hair casually styled as if he'd just run his fingers through it. Straight dark brows framed striking blue eyes. His nose was straight, in proportion with his cheekbones and mouth. God what a mouth. Cupids bow above a full lower lip. And strong jaw with just the right amount of stubble. Tapping the screen, I rotated the image. His muscled shoulders and back showed the rest of his tattoo and clear expanse of skin. He was pale, but then he was a vampire, so tanning was out of the question. He was one mighty fine looking vampire. Dragging my eyes from his picture, I read his file.
Vampire. 180 years old. Thirty human years at the time of turning. Retired special ops. Well, that explained his to-die-for body. Owned property in the docks, Mistlyn, and Garden District. I already knew about the warehouse at the docks and the nightclub in Mistlyn. I clicked on Garden District and a picture of a magnificent house filled my screen. House my ass. This was a mansion. The guy must be loaded, but then having been around for 180 years gave you plenty of time to accumulate a few dollars.
"We need to visit Mr. Wilder." I glanced at the time on my comms unit. Too late for tonight. The sun would be up within an hour; we'd have to sit on this until next shift.
5
Techno music blasted from the DJ booth and lights flashed and swirled around the nightclub. Massive cogs of varying sizes decorated the wall behind the bar with the bar itself lit with red strip lighting, casting eerie shadows. The place was packed, bodies squeezed together on the dance floor, the booths on the far wall full to capacity. The clever use of scaffolding creating an upstairs balcony overlooking the main dance floor was equally packed. I pushed my way to the bar and waited to be served.
Carter was here somewhere. We'd agreed to case the joint tonight, undercover, before he took his two days leave. We'd both ditched our uniforms. Carter was sexy as sin in black jeans and T-shirt and I was the first to admit he rocked the all black look. I was dressed in tight black jeans and an off the shoulder white top that tied at my midriff. The sleeves hugged my arms to the elbow then flowed into a white lace. All in all, I exposed enough flesh without looking slutty. I hoped.
The bartender finally arrived and I ordered a vodka and cranberry juice. I ditched the straw and brought the glass to my lips, uncaring of the velvet red lipstick mark I left behind. Wanting to fit in, I'd darkened my eyes with kohl eyeliner and coated my lips with the exotic lipstick. I left my straight hair loose and it swung around me, almost reaching my waist.
I turned my back to the bar, drink in hand, while I surveyed my surroundings. Across the room, my eyes landed on Nate Wilder. He was standing with a group, talking, a tumbler of…something in his hand. I hadn't really been expecting to run across him here tonight. Rumor had it that he didn't frequent the club all that often, that he left the running of it to his business partner Xavier Elizondo. I continued to study him, not believing my luck. He was taller than those around him, and I felt voyeuristic as my eyes drank in his hard body. His photo didn't do him justice. In person he was stunning.
I saw movement behind his shoulder and my eyes landed on Carter. His dark eyes looked up and met mine. I blinked but didn't look away. He continued to watch me for a moment before the woman at his side demanded his attention and he turned his gaze to her. With a shuddering sigh, I gulped the rest of my drink and turned back to the bar, raising my glass to the bartender. I needed another. My body heated and my skin tingled all over, and it wasn't from the alcohol.
I was confused. What was happening? This couldn't happen with Carter. It would ruin everything. Having grown up without a mother or close girlfriends to talk to about boys, I was adrift. I wasn't a virgin and I wasn't a prude. My body had urges and I'd take a lover to my bed to assuage them. Never a relationship though. One night, sometimes two, and I was done, but those encounters hadn't prepared me for the lustful thoughts I was having for my co-worker.
A pulse of energy ran along my spine and I snapped my head up, looking into the mirror behind the bar. Carter stood behind me, not quite touching but I could feel him, the heat of him the entire length of him at my back. His eyes met mine in our reflection.
"Dance with me." It wasn't a question.
I couldn't think clearly with him so close. I turned around to face him, trapped between him and the bar. I tilted my head and looked up. So close. Dragging in a breath, I let his scent fill my nose: chocolate and musk and something else, something masculine and purely him. I still hadn't answered, just stood looking at him, praying to God I wasn't drooling. Taking my silence as assent, he took my hand and led me to the dance floor. I followed, unresisting, the electricity pulsing through me from where his hand held mine, swirling through me and pooling in my lower abdomen.
Carter pulled me into his arms loosely, leaving me room for escape if I chose. I chose not to. This was too delicious; my toes were positively curling in my boots. Our bodies moved to the heavy rhythm and he inched closer, his hands settling on my hips. I could feel the heat of them burning through my denim jeans. Man, was it hot in here or was it just me? The music thrummed through me, loud and primal and I responded to the beat, letting my body bend and sway to the rhythm. I spun in his arms, pushing my back against his chest. His hands splayed across my bare abdomen and the touch of his flesh on mine sizzled. I closed my eyes, letting my head fall back against his shoulder. I let my own hands do some exploring of their own, running down the outside of his thighs as far as I could reach, then back up again. His muscles clenched beneath my touch and my lips curled in feminine power. A hand left my waist to brush my hair away from my shoulder, then his lips were there, nuzzling against my flesh and nibbling at my neck. My hips swayed seductively, any inhibitions long since forgotten. Carter followed my movements, his erection pressing into my lower back. He growled, his teeth grazing my skin.
He turned me in his arms, pulling me tightly against him, his hands sweeping down my back to clasp my behind and press me in closer. We were barely moving, the music forgotten as we practically dry humped each other on the dance floor. I didn't care. What I was feeling now was indescribable and I wanted more of it.
"You smell incredible." Leaning in, he sniffed
at my throat. I took in a ragged breath as he bent down and kissed the side of my neck, his teeth once again scraping my skin.
My body quivered with each touch of his mouth. I moaned when his teeth scraped then his lips and tongue soothed. My mind was a fog. I couldn't think, just feel. With a burning need, I turned my head and sought his mouth with mine. Our lips met with a clash of teeth and tongues. I devoured him, frantic for more. I wasn't alone, he was grinding against me, his hand tangled in my hair to angle my head back for better access to my mouth. I wanted him. Wanted to feast on him until I was sated.
"Are you sure?" His voice was low and rough and brought me to my senses like a bucket of icy water being dumped on my head. Pushing away from him, I tried to get myself back under control as my heart thundered in my chest. What was that? I was curious but wary. This was a path I'd promised myself I'd never go down, yet here I was, locking lips with him and loving every second. Jesus Christ.
"I didn't intend for that to happen." He straightened up, making sure I had my balance before taking a step back.
"Me either," I admitted. "But I'm not sorry."
"You're not?" He looked surprised.
"That was fucking incredible." I looked him in the eye. His slight frown eased and he grinned at me.
"It was." He ran a gentle finger down my cheek, then froze, his focus on something behind me.
"Nate Wilder is leaving the club. Let's go." He was all SIA Agent. I was impressed with how quickly he switched gears, one-minute passionate wolf, the next a cold and steely agent. It turned me on even more and again I was puzzled by the sudden overwhelming urge to have him. Okay, well, maybe it wasn't sudden per se, but I'd vowed never to act on it, yet tonight, here at the club, I was all over him like bees to honeycomb and I wasn't feeling even the slightest twinge of remorse. Yet.
6
My feet pounded in rhythm, following the familiar track as it wove through the parklands. I'd needed to blow off steam after my encounter with Carter. I'd made a mess of things, my attraction to him rising to the surface after years of suppression. I did my best to quell it, push it back down into its box, never to see the light of day. Carter had been all professionalism. We'd followed Nate back to his home and that was it, we'd said goodnight. Neither of us spoke of what had happened at the club.
Rounding a corner in the path, I slowed my jog. Birds shot up from the trees, circling overhead before swooping down in an arc then back up and away. Breathing heavily I jogged forward. What had spooked them? I strained my ears, but all I could hear were my own feet on the gravel path. I was so deep in the park the dawn traffic was muffled, completely surrounded by trees and forest. Usually, I loved running through the park, but right now all I felt was spooked. I got the eerie sensation someone was watching me.
I stopped on the pretense of fastening my shoelace. On one knee I fiddled with the lace while casting a glance behind me. No one on the trail. Nothing moved, not even a breeze stirred the leaves on the trees. Not a single living thing to be seen or heard. Checking the trail in both directions, I started moving again, my legs heavy. The air seemed thicker somehow, weighing me down. Something wasn't right. I kept jogging, senses on alert, expectant, waiting. But nothing happened. The feeling remained with me for the rest of my run, but no one leaped out, no one appeared on the trail, just me and my wheezing breaths as I'd pushed myself harder than ever, keen to be out of the park.
Stepping through the park entrance and onto the street, I still couldn't shake it—someone was watching me. I walked back toward HQ, aware of my own vulnerability without my weapon. I didn't carry anything with me when I jogged and I was starting to think that wasn't smart either. Seemed like tonight was my night for mistakes. Cooling down I walked the city streets back to the office. Even though my shift had ended I was too restless for sleep. Might as well put a couple of extra hours in. Wouldn't hurt now that Carter was off duty. Our director was a werewolf as well and always took the night of the full moon off, although no one knew where she ran, or if she ran with a pack or alone. It was unusual for a wolf to run alone; they thrived in a pack environment. Carter tended to take two days off each month. I'd found him impossible to work with on the day leading up to the change so we'd agreed it best he stay away. Then he'd run all night during the change and sleep off the effects the next day.
It wasn't until I was a block away from HQ that the eerie sensation lifted. Whoever had been watching me had gone. Which only meant one thing. I was definitely being followed. I'd picked up a tail between the club and SIA Headquarters.
Pressing my thumb to the access panel in the elevator, I made my way to level four. I grabbed a quick shower in the change rooms, slipped back into my uniform and settled behind my desk, studying the virtual case board.
A message popped up on my screen to ring the morgue. Tapping on the comms unit on my wrist, I was soon connected.
"Remember how I said I'd try and see if the other victims had that stamp, or traces of a stamp, from that nightclub?" The young tech's voice was higher than usual.
"Sure. How did it go?"
"Well, I couldn't pull a complete stamp, but there are traces of the same type of ink used. I mean the stamp could have come from any establishment that uses the fluorescent ink, I can't prove it came from the same nightclub." His words came out in a rush, sounding as if he was pleased with his discovery.
"It's a start. I'll see if I can get video surveillance from Crimson Mist around the time all the vics disappeared. A day or two before the time of death would be the timeframe we're looking for then, right?"
"Yeah, I'd imagine so. The ink doesn't last more than forty-eight hours, so to pull a trace they had to have been stamped anytime within the two days prior to death."
I thanked the tech and disconnected the call. Cursing, I pulled up Nate Wilder's file. I couldn't afford to sit on this. I needed to move. Time wasted could mean life or death for another potential victim. I punched in Nate's number.
"Wilder." He answered his own calls. How unexpected. I cleared my throat.
"This is Enforcer Raven Black of the SIA. Am I speaking with Nate Wilder?"
"You are. How can I assist you, Enforcer Black?" He sounded mildly curious.
"I was hoping to make a time to come and speak with you about a case we're working on. I'd be happy to meet with you wherever is convenient, or you are most welcome to attend the SIA offices."
"Can I ask what this is regarding?"
"Four human murders."
"And I'm a suspect?"
"Not necessarily. But I do have some questions."
"Very well. I'm free now. Come to my home. I prefer not to travel under sunlight."
"Of course. I'll see you shortly."
7
The Garden District was a beautiful and ornate neighborhood, with gorgeous, historic houses and mansions, along with lush and green gardens. The historical homes had been built by wealthy settlers, but now in this prestigious neighborhood, most houses had price tags that ran into several million.
I imagined Nate Wilder's mansion was one of those. I stopped at the gates and pressed the intercom, announcing my presence. The gates opened and I drove up the long driveway, admiring the beautifully kept gardens and massive weeping willow trees along the way. The house itself was a large Victorian, restored to its original grandeur, with white columns and the scrollwork of cast iron balconies. Definitely in the millions.
I stopped in the circular driveway and made my way up the stairs to the front doors, suddenly nervous.
The door opened and a young woman in a maid's uniform greeted me, ushering me inside. My breath caught at the impressive entranceway with a massive staircase running up each side of the room, meeting at a balcony in the middle. The tiled floor revealed a pattern of a large, meandering tree, cleverly depicted in the tiles. I'd imagine the design looked stunning from the balcony.
I was beckoned into a front room leading off of the foyer. I felt him before I saw him, a raw energy washing ov
er me.
"Mr. Wilder? Your guest." The young woman ushered me into a sitting room and left, pulling the door closed behind her. Nate Wilder had been thumbing through a magazine when I'd entered, but he put it to one side and rose.
"Ah," he murmured, moving toward me. "Enforcer Black I assume?"
"Thank you for agreeing to meet with me on such short notice."
"Pleasure." The way he drawled the word had me thinking of what I'd done with Carter the night before. My thighs clenched.
I sighed, pulling the zip of my Kevlar jacket down so it wasn't so constrictive around my tight throat. I moved across to the windows. It was daylight outside yet the sun wasn't bothering him. Special UV tint, I assumed, reaching out and pressing my palm against the window, the coolness of it soothing.
"Go ahead." He settled back into his chair, his long legs stretched out in front of him, arms crossed loosely over his chest.
Taking a deep breath, I turned to watch him as I filled him in on what the SIA knew. Four victims. One definitely had a stamp to his nightclub on the back of her hand and her body had been found in his warehouse. The other victims had stamps but they couldn't be clearly identified as his logo.
"Okay. First of all, let me tell you I am not involved in this. I spent years in the Special Forces protecting humans. There's no way I'd intentionally harm one." I believed him. I didn't want to think he was involved, but someone was going to considerable effort to implicate him.
"Secondly, I haven't been to that warehouse since I bought it nine or ten years ago. And before you ask, I bought it because a crooked politician told me the zoning for that area was being changed and I was going to convert the warehouse into a nightclub. Obviously, the politician lied and that didn't happen. Mistlyn zoning changed instead and I bought and converted a warehouse there."
"Why keep the original warehouse? Why not sell it?" I was curious.
