by Ava Walsh
"Where were the two of you between 6:00 and 8:00 this morning?"
6:00 to 8:00. So that was the time of death? Roland hadn't found Melissa until noon. At 6:00, the full moon would have just been wearing off. He forced himself not to react, but what if Melissa had still been half-wolf, and interrupted a burglar or something? Their secret could be out.
"6:00 to 8:00?" Adam scrunched up his forehead. "We were still cleaning up from the party downstairs. Hell of a thing."
Claire cast a glance around the hallway. "This rich and you have to clean up your own messes, Mr. Davis?"
"I like to pitch in once in a while. Keeps me grounded."
Claire smiled a pretty smile at him, causing his heart to skip a beat. "I see. Well, if there's anything you can think of that can help us, here's my card. Give me a call."
"I will."
She turned back to the bedroom, and Roland let out a pent-up breath as she left. Now there was a real woman. Who might suspect him of murder. He needed to remember that and keep his head about him. The Alpha turned and walked away.
This was one situation in which he needed to keep his distance and not go for what he wanted… a taste of chocolate cupcakes.
Chapter Two
"Package for Detective Doyle."
Claire glanced up from her desk, where she was going over crime scene photos from the Melissa Clarkson case. Her muscles pinched between her shoulder blades, and there was an ache behind her eyes that she hadn't noticed as she studied the pictures. One of the two detectives she worked homicide with, Catherine Grace, stood just beside her desk, a knowing smirk on her lips.
"You know, as observant as you are, you really don't notice things when you're focused," Grace said, plopping a neatly-wrapped package onto Claire's desk.
Claire shot her the dirtiest look she could muster. "Thanks."
"Well?" Grace pointed at the box. "It's from that sexy billionaire. Aren't you going to open it?"
Claire bit back a moan. It was strictly against precinct policy to accept gifts from anybody connected to ongoing investigations. She pushed the package off her crime scene photo. As much as she wanted to know what it was Roland was sending her, it would be best to send it back unopened. Grace could see the thoughts going through Claire's head and rolled her eyes.
"Come on, one peek won't hurt. His alibi has proven solid. It's not like he's our murderer."
"I know that. And I don't think that he's a part of it, but until we find out the who and why of this murder, you know the rules. I can't accept any gifts from him."
Grace sighed heavily. "You need to live a little, Claire. There're no rules against opening the gifts, just keeping them. If you don't open it, I will."
Claire bit her lip. She thought about Roland Davis and the way he had looked at her, and she swore her heart skipped a beat. It had been extremely difficult to keep from drooling and dropping her panties when she first laid eyes on him. He had everything going for him. Muscular, but in that low-key, stronger-than-he-looks kind of way. Strong jaw, clean shaven. Blond hair that was just the perfect length to run her fingers through. The strangest eyes, though. Amber, and they didn't quite look right with his coloring. Maybe he wore contacts.
Grace was still staring at her, so Claire grabbed the package and ripped it open, shaking her head at her own weakness. It was a small jewelry box, and inside was a matching necklace and earring set. Sparkling diamonds were set in a pearly-white metal. White gold maybe. The chain of the necklace looked small and dainty.
"Wow," Grace muttered, when Claire finally handed her the box. "Did he send a note or anything?"
Claire shook her head, mind reeling. What was Roland sending her diamond jewelry for? Just because she had told him that he wasn't a suspect in their murder investigation?
"Well, I think we know how Mr. Billionaire feels about Detective Doyle."
Heat rushed to Claire's face. "Grace, knock it off."
"What? Oh, don't tell me that you didn't notice the way he was undressing you at the crime scene. Those eyes were locked on your ass like you were the creamiest, most decadent pudding he'd ever seen." Grace waggled her eyebrows suggestively. "He's not a suspect, maybe you ought to let him have a taste."
Claire's face got even hotter, if that was possible. She hadn't seen that, but she had noticed the low-lying lust in his voice when they were talking. Not that she was going to mention that to Grace. It would just give her more fodder, and the girl needed a glass of ice water over her head already.
"No, I won't be letting him have a taste of my ass, or anything else for that matter."
"Come on, you can't tell me you don't want a taste of him."
Claire ignored her, shutting the box. "If he's trying to seduce me, he has a lot of work ahead of him. I don't sleep with just anyone, and it will take more than sparkly jewelry to get me to spread my legs." Claire hoped that would be enough to get the younger detective to drop the subject.
"Are you going to give these back?" Grace gestured to the box.
"Have to."
"I mean are you going right now? I'd be glad to come for backup."
Claire rolled her eyes and snatched the necklace and earrings back from Grace. She was far too casual in the workplace for Claire's tastes, but there was no denying that she was very good at her job. In fact, her slightly ditzy persona was probably one of the reasons she was so good. People were constantly underestimating her, and more than once she had teased out a confession when blunt force would have been useless.
"You might as well. You can ask that Adam Buchan why the security cameras were turned off last night."
Grace's eyes lit up. If there was one thing she liked better than flirting, it was an interrogation while flirting. Claire had to suppress a smile. The younger woman was her best friend on the force. They had been working together for years now and had faced a lot of tough situations together. Claire knew that Grace had her back, even if she was a little annoying when it came to insisting that Claire needed to find a man to settle down with.
Detective Claire Doyle didn't want a man. She was perfectly happy where she was.
***
The two detectives were soon at the Davis office building. When Claire had been assigned the case, the captain had made it very clear that she was supposed to act quickly and ruffle as few feathers as possible. She understood the necessity. Roland Davis owned half the city, including the building where Claire lived. He operated something like four diamond mines up in Alaska and Canada, and was also rapidly developing new medical treatments for genetic diseases.
Adam Buchan met them as they entered the building, and escorted them directly to Roland's office. It was, quite simply, the most decadent workspace Claire had ever seen. Huge, expensive paintings hung on the walls, and the floor was polished green marble with thick, silk rugs here and there. A set of ebony doors–ebony!–led from the secretarial waiting room to the private office where Roland no doubt was.
"Are you here in an official capacity?" Adam asked, raising an eyebrow at Claire.
"I am," Grace said, batting her eyes and giggling. "Detective Doyle isn't. I need to ask you a few questions, Mr. Buchan."
Adam smiled at her. It was the same smile he had given Claire just a few days earlier, except directed at Grace it looked more genuine than it had at Claire. Grace smiled back, and her giggling didn't seem quite as controlled as it usually was. And no wonder. Adam was ripped and almost as tall as Roland, with the greenest eyes Claire had ever seen. Grace, with her auburn hair and rosy-red lips, would be the perfect match for him if they were in a rom-com. Both were ridiculously good looking.
The two were ignoring Claire at this point, but she just rolled her eyes as she slipped through the ebony doors. Roland was on his feet when she went in, as though he was expecting her, even though Claire hadn't seen Adam call him to let him know she was coming. He smiled broadly at her, his eyes sweeping down her body. Claire couldn't suppress the blush that stained her cheeks, but she fo
rced herself to breathe evenly. As much as she'd like Roland to ravage her on his desk–was it made of pink ivory?–she wasn't here to give into her sexual desires. The opposite, in fact.
I'm a grown ass woman and my hormones don't control me.
"Detective Doyle. Have you found Melissa's killer?"
Claire shook her head. "Not yet, I'm afraid. We are pursuing some promising leads, though. I'm actually here because of this."
She placed the jewelry box on his desk. Roland's brow furrowed and he glanced up at her quickly, peering at her ears. Was he checking to see if they were pierced?
"I can't accept any sort of gift during an open investigation," she explained. "They're lovely, but you can see how it might be misconstrued as a bribe."
Roland winced and drew the box to his side of the desk. "Yes, of course. I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking about your investigation. But if you can't accept a gift, then perhaps you and I could go to dinner sometime?"
Claire wanted to accept–who wouldn't?–but shook her head. "You are still connected to an open investigation. I'm afraid that would not be a good idea."
There was also the fact that a woman who worked for him and who he had openly admitted he was sleeping with had just been murdered. That had to take a toll on a guy, even if he claimed that he didn't have any sort of deep feelings for Clarkson. He was probably only looking for rebound sex. Or whatever the equivalent of rebound sex was in this situation. Claire wasn't a one-and-done kind of girl. Although after the case was done, she might just have to make an exception to her rule if Roland was still interested.
"Of course." Roland looked disappointed but nodded his understanding. "Perhaps there is a way around that, though?"
Claire raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"
"I have arranged for my staff to attend a wake for Melissa at my house soon. Everybody who was at my last party will be there. Perhaps you could come to meet some more of the people who knew her?"
It was dangerously gray area, but Claire considered the offer. It would offer a great low-key way to get to know Melissa's coworkers, and find out if there were any sort of interpersonal problems that they wouldn't tell the uniforms who questioned them. If there was alcohol to loosen their tongues, it would be even better. It would probably be best to leave Grace behind, though. Two detectives at the wake would be far too obvious.
"I would love that. Thank you."
He nodded, his gaze softening. His eyes darted towards her mouth but didn't linger. "I look forward to seeing you there."
Chapter Three
Perhaps he should have invited more of the human women who worked for him.
Roland stood on a balcony overlooking the ballroom where Melissa's wake was taking place. A picture of Melissa was set up at one end, with flowers and candles around it. There were dozens of cards, and paper for writing letters. It had been Adam's idea to invite everybody to write their goodbyes to Melissa and put them in a sealed box to be buried with her. Roland had written his own letter, surprisingly long, and a tightness he hadn't realized had been squeezing his heart had eased.
Being able to say goodbye to his packmate was cathartic, and made him realize that she wouldn't have held a grudge against him for pursuing Claire, which he fully intended to do.
What he really didn't like were the number of men who Claire was talking to. He understood it was part of her investigation. Hell, if the glances the other wolves in his pack had shot him when the detective approached them were any indication, they knew that he'd take them down if they tried anything inappropriate with her. Or maybe they were just wondering why he was allowing her to question them like suspects.
They're not, he told himself. None of my pack would ever harm Melissa. Not even Brian.
The wolf in question was the one speaking with Claire at the moment. He was the newest member of the pack, and ten years Roland's senior. He had been turned two years ago when he attempted to break into Roland's house on the night of the full moon. If it had been any wolf other than Adam who had found him, Brian would have been dead, but as Beta, Adam had enough control that he didn't outright kill the human. He just bit him, turning him into a werewolf as well.
Brian was not Roland's favorite person, but he was business-savvy, and as long as Roland kept an eye on him, he stayed away from less-than-legal activities. He was also a werewolf, part of the pack, and Roland would watch out for him.
Right now he seemed to be trying to charm Claire. They were too far away to hear, but Roland saw the wolf casually leaning towards her, flexing his arms to make them appear more muscular, all the while keeping his eyes on her face. The wolf in Roland growled, wanting to go down there and perhaps break a few bones in Brian's face.
"You haven't stopped looking at her since she walked in."
Roland turned, irritation etched on his face.
His Beta ducked his head. "I'm just saying. I know you cared about Melissa, but you didn't love her. If you're looking for a reason not to go down there and sweep the detective off her feet, Mel isn't it."
Roland let out an annoyed huff. "What exactly are you saying, Adam?"
"With that tone, you think I'm going to say what's on my mind?" Adam arched an eyebrow and shook his head. "Thanks, but I like my nose straight."
He was the only one who Roland could tolerate this level of insubordination from. Even among the human workers in his various companies, he was considered to be a hard ass. He expected things to be done right and on time, and didn't hide his displeasure if things didn't go the way they were supposed to, or if his instructions were ignored.
"Just say what you mean to say before I break your pretty face."
Adam's lips twitched. Roland could see he was about to make a comment about the Alpha calling him pretty, but a quick growl had him rethinking. He held out his hands and fell back a step.
"You're attracted to her. Every time she's near I can smell the wolf on you. I don't know much about mates, but isn't it possible that your wolf has zoned in on her?"
Roland stiffened.
"You're not getting any younger. If you feel like your wolf is trying to claim her, why don't you take her to a nice dinner, get her to bed, and, if she's still what you want in the morning, tell her everything? If she's meant to be your mate, she'll stick by your side. And if she's not, hopefully you’ll at least get some good sex from it before she commits you to the looney bin."
Roland had to work hard not to swing at his Beta. His fists clenched so tightly that his knuckles strained against his skin. After several moments of deep breathing, he forced his tense muscles to relax. The Wolves below had noticed his tense stance and were glancing up at him while gathering together. Brian had abandoned his talk with Claire, hurrying to the other side of the room while keeping an eye on Roland, expression anxious.
"If you ever insinuate that Claire is only good for a one-night stand again, I will break your face," the Alpha growled under his breath.
Adam bowed his head, taking a step back in submission. "I'm just saying, there's a chance that your wolf wants her for your mate."
"Not going to happen." Roland shook his head. The anger clawing at his throat eased a little. "She's not a werewolf, and I'm not going to turn her into one just so she can pop out my babies."
"Does she have to be a werewolf to be your mate?"
Roland sent him a black glare before heading down into the ballroom. It was time to begin the farewells to Melissa.
***
His bedroom was still a crime scene. Roland was already there after Melissa's send-off before he remembered. He stopped outside the door, staring at the yellow tape and sighed, turning around. He had been sleeping in the guest house for the two weeks since the murder. It wasn't as nice as his mansion, but he preferred that over living in a hotel.
It was the new moon, and with the property lights turned down, he could see every star in the sky. Roland took a deep breath of the cool air. The days of the new moon were when his wolf was at its weakest
, and he could barely scent the traces of the humans, who had all left.
All but one. He caught her chocolate scent, and tore his gaze from the sky to find Claire walking towards him. She had worn a fitted black dress for the wake. A deep V-neck accentuated her cleavage and the twisting on the bodice emphasized the intake of her waist and the flare of her hips. Her neck was bare, although she wore a cheap watch on her left wrist. Well, it was probably expensive on her salary.
Roland had to stop himself from drooling. In the darkness, everything about her was more emphasized. Her scent. The glow of her pale skin. Her halo of curls. Even with his wolf submerged so deep, he felt it growl with pleasure as it looked at her.
"My car won't start and my phone is dead," she said, wrinkling her nose in the most adorable way he'd ever seen. "Can I use your phone to call a cab?"
"You can stay here overnight," Roland offered at once.
He immediately was taken aback by his own offer. If she stayed, then one thing would lead to another… perhaps he should just let her borrow one of his cars. It'd be best if they got to know each other before they ended up in bed together. That way it wouldn't be over between them in the morning.
He'd had casual flings in the past, and of course there had been Melissa, but looking into Claire's eyes he wanted something more. Something deeper.
Shit. Adam's right. I want her for life.
"I… like that idea more than I should," Claire said, licking her lips.
He stared at the two plump bows, red as raspberries. Everything about her was edible, and Roland wanted to eat her up. If the way her eyes kept flickering to his mouth meant anything, she was feeling the same way. He stepped closer to her, twisting one of her curls around his finger.
"Because I'm connected to an open investigation?" He was surprised at how low and husky his voice was.
"Yeah." Claire swallowed. He could almost hear her heart thumping. "And because I don't think you're asking me to stay for an innocent slumber party."
