She started to tell him that she’d asked him first, but decided it wasn’t worth the game of one-upmanship. Besides, she might get an answer she didn’t want to hear. “According to the bartender, Janie Paxton was a nice girl who kept to herself. There were a few occasions when male customers got out of hand with her and she’d ‘beat the crap out of them.’ After seeing her claws, I’d say she was definitely shifter-strong. The bartender didn’t notice any stalkers or weird guys lurking around, and he didn’t see anyone fitting Dunn’s description.”
Jake nodded, seeming to analyze the new information, then startled her by saying, “The bartender wouldn’t talk to me at all. What did you have to offer him to loosen his tongue?”
“What? You didn’t see me crawl behind the bar and unzip him?” Nyla asked smartly, tired of his attitude. “What’s your problem, anyway? You almost sound like a jealous boyfriend.”
She saw incredulity spark in his eyes and tensed, ready for another fight, but after a moment she watched his anger dim.
“Fine.” He stood from the table and began to clear it off.
“No, not fine. Did you find out anything useful from the waitress? After chatting her up the entire night you must have found out something.”
“Who sounds jealous now?” he taunted, eyes glittering with irritation.
“Don’t flatter yourself, Porter. I just want to catch this nut case and move on, so I hope all that time you spent with the waitress was more than just flirting. I don’t like my time wasted, especially when lives are at stake.”
“I was questioning a witness, not trying to pick her up.” He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, slowly, before reopening them, his temper barely contained. “Newsflash; not every guy you know is controlled by his libido.”
“And not every woman you know has to promise sexual favors to get information.”
“Fair enough.”
While they’d squabbled, he’d cleared the table, and with nothing left to do, Jake fisted his hands at his sides and seared her with a look that was anything but happy.
Nyla rose from her seat. “Just tell me what you found out from the waitress so we can get on with this.”
Jake looked as if he was about to make another smart remark, but apparently the cold glare she gave him made him think better of it, because he said, “I didn’t find out anything helpful.” He hooked his thumbs into his front pockets. “Janie was a young, single girl who liked to flirt a lot. Selene was concerned she might have been too promiscuous. According to her, there were several guys who could’ve followed Janie home one night and killed her. Too many for her to narrow down the selection.”
“Let me guess. None of them stuck out when you gave her Dunn’s description.”
“Of course not. That would have made my job easier.”
“Our job,” Nyla corrected while she stood by the bed, looking over the pictures of the victim again.
“How can you look at those after eating bloody meat?” Jake asked in disgust.
“Some of us aren’t so pussified, Jake.”
“Hey—”
“Oh, don’t go getting your little lacies in a twist,” she interrupted. “You need to learn how to take a joke.”
She heard him huffing out a breath, imagined him counting to ten, and grinned.
“What are you looking for?” he asked as he walked over to stand beside her and looked down at the bed.
“Clues, Sherlock.” She looked up from the pictures to catch him glaring at her. “Do you have a plan yet?”
“I thought you were the professional demon hunter.”
“As are you, and I’ve already conceded you are better at this than me.”
Jake’s eyebrows shot up before he could control his reaction. He obviously hadn’t expected such honesty.
“Unlike some, I can admit when someone else is better at something, Jake.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” he shot back.
Nyla let out a breath, growing more irritated by the minute. It seemed as if all he wanted to do was fight. Of course, she had been provoking him, she admitted with an inward sigh, and decided to call a truce. “It doesn’t mean anything. Do you have a plan or what?”
“We need to find out Dunn’s motive.”
“Wouldn’t it be the same as Carter’s? To develop a serum for immortality?”
“I don’t think so,” Jake said, shaking his head. “Shifters aren’t immortal.”
“No, but they’re strong.”
“So are vampires.”
“Maybe Curtis couldn’t get strength from vampires, so he decided to throw a little shifter into the cocktail.”
Jake shook his head again. “Think about it, Nyla. A vampire could be caught as long as he was taken during the mending stage of day-sleep. A shifter is strong whether in human or animal form.”
“So?”
“So I’ve seen Curtis Dunn. He couldn’t nab one.”
“Demons are strong,” she pointed out.
“Not all are physically strong, and he’s not a demon . . . well, not fully.”
Nyla nodded her understanding, recalling what he’d said about Dunn being a demon and a separate soul inside one human shell.
“Are you sure he’s not strong?”
“I’m positive he couldn’t take on a shifter, especially not a werewolf, which Janie was, judging by the color of her eyes.”
“If the waitress was right and Janie was a party girl he could have slipped something in her drink.”
Jake just gave her the kind of look people give you when they’re too polite to call you stupid to your face.
“Yeah, yeah, I know. A shifter isn’t affected by drugs because their bodies burn too much energy,” she told him, “but who’s to say Dunn hasn’t invented something that would stay in her system? You’ve already suggested he shot her up with something that kept her from reverting back to full human when she died.”
“It’s possible,” Jake conceded, seeming to mull the idea over, “but it doesn’t feel right.”
Which meant Jake’s gut was telling him something else, and if she knew anything, it was that Jake’s gut never steered him wrong. She was always amazed by how dead on his instincts were.
“What are you thinking?” She moved the pictures aside and sat on the edge of the bed, watching him.
“He had help.”
“Another demon?”
“Maybe, but it doesn’t feel right,” he said, sitting on the opposite end of the bed. “Nothing feels right. In his own pathetic way, Curtis tried to warn Aria before his brother kidnapped her. I don’t think he wanted the immortality serum, and I don’t think he wanted to expose the vampires to the world.”
“But Alfred did,” she reminded, “and the part of him living through Curtis probably still does. Maybe Alfred has gained control.”
“Or maybe someone is pulling Alfred to the forefront, letting him be in control.” Jake ran his hand through his short brown hair, leaving it in a sexy mess. “I just feel in my gut there’s someone else involved, but I can’t figure out who it could be. As far as I can tell from my research, the Dunns were not connected to anyone in this area—no friends or family or even business contacts.”
For some inexplicable reason, an image of Demarcus flashed through Nyla’s mind at his words, but she quickly banished it. Demarcus had entered her head when she’d fed, and even though he had seemed stronger, closer in some way, he couldn’t be involved. Demarcus loved himself too much to help someone bring attention to vampires’ existence, and Curtis Dunn—or the evil spirit of his great-grandfather possessing him—was leaving behind bodies with fang marks.
“Regardless of who is helping him, there’s probably a missing vampire,” Jake said, jerking her away from thoughts of Demarcus.
“You really think so?”
Jake nodded. “Definitely. And you’re right about Alfred Dunn. The bastard is vengeful. If he’s gained control over Curtis, he could be forcing Curtis to continue the experiments with the serum. If so, he’d follow the same initial steps.”
“What are you saying? That somewhere in Louisville a vampire is pinned to a wall?”
“I’m afraid so.”
Nyla’s heart leapt at the remorse she thought she heard in Jake’s tone. “You sound as if you feel sorry for the vamp in question.”
“Nobody deserves to be pinned to a wall, Nyla. Even I don’t torture vamps; I kill them quick and neat.”
“How decent of you.” She couldn’t keep the bitterness from spilling from her mouth.
“What’s with the attitude? You have a problem with me killing vamps?”
“No, I’ve come across some pure evil ones, but do you ever wonder if maybe some of the ones you’ve killed just because they were vamps weren’t really evil?”
Jake didn’t have to answer. She saw the guilt in his eyes, before he channeled it into a cold glare.
“They’re bloodsucking monsters, Nyla. They feed off people.”
Nyla shrugged, focusing her gaze back on the picture of Janie Paxton’s deceased body. She didn’t need to see him to know Jake was shaking his head.
“Anyway,” Jake said, rising from the bed. “We’re going to need to find which vampire is missing. Obviously, the local vamps aren’t going to talk to me.”
“Obviously.”
“We’re going to need help.”
“You know someone who has a good relationship with the vampires?”
“I know a vampire.”
Nyla arched an eyebrow. “You know several vampires, Jake. The problem is you tend to kill them before they can be of much help.”
Jake didn’t respond to her comment, but pulled out his cell phone and punched in a number. Nyla watched in amusement as he struggled to maintain a friendly tone while speaking with Christian, the vampire from Baltimore who’d managed to hog-tie him.
“That was Christian,” Jake stated, as if she hadn’t already figured that part out, after disconnecting the call. “He said help will arrive soon.”
Nyla just grinned.
“What’s so damn funny?” he asked, scowling.
“Nothing. I think it’s cute you know his number by heart.”
Jake took a step forward, but Nyla held one of Janie Paxton’s pictures in front of him. “Before you attempt to throttle me, take a look at this.”
“What?” he bit out, snatching the picture from her hand.
“Inside the fold of her arm.”
Jake peered at the picture closely, and she could see by the widening of his eyes the moment he found the scratches she’d focused on for the last several minutes.
“Those could just be simple scratches.”
“Do you think some simple scratches would look like that?”
“No.” Jake shook his head. “We need to know what those markings are, and they weren’t mentioned in the police or coroner’s report. Jonah would’ve told me if they were.”
“So what are we going to do?”
“We’re going to inspect her body ourselves.”
“She’s already been buried,” Nyla reminded him.
“Good thing I have shovels in my trunk.”
Chapter Eight
NYLA SLID HER knives into the sheaths strapped to her forearms and lifted her gun from the table.
“Are you sure—” Jake began.
“Jake, if you ask about my health one more time I swear I’m going to break your legs!” Nyla interrupted, irritated. She’d passed out once—all right, twice, if she counted the fake passing out by his car the previous night—and the man was acting like it was something that happened every twenty minutes.
Nyla slid her Browning 9mm into its holster, adjusting the straps so the holster fit tight, but not tight enough to chafe. Sure, all that was on the night’s agenda was digging up some poor girl’s body, but you never knew when some thing was going to jump out of the dark and try to take a bite out of you—literally.
“Look, you’re the one who passed out twice. How do I know you’re not going to get down in that hole with me and do it again?”
“You’re the one who has a problem with dead bodies. How do I know you’re not going to scream like a girl and pass out at my feet?”
“I don’t do anything like a girl,” he said defensively, leaning back against the door with his arms crossed, an action which caused his bicep muscles to bulge.
Nyla drew in a breath and let it out slowly while she willed her heart to quit skipping beats. She didn’t know if the Heat was coming back or she was just suffering through the natural effect of being in her true human form in close range with the man of her naughtiest dreams. Jake simply sent her hormones into a tailspin whether she suffered from the Heat or not, which was what made it all the more dangerous. All she knew for sure was that she was suddenly very warm inside.
“Okay, you don’t do anything girlish. Then let’s do this,” she managed to say, hoping he didn’t pick up on the breathy tone in her voice.
“You look a little flushed.”
“I’m fine!”
He flinched at the harsh sound of her voice which seemed to bounce off the motel room walls, and she couldn’t stop herself from doing so as well. If they didn’t get out of that room and get to business, they were going to come to blows again. There was just too much tension filling the air between them.
“Fine, but if you pass out again I’m leaving you behind.”
Jake opened the door, angrily muttering something under his breath. Nyla followed him out, sliding her leather jacket on to cover her weapons. She’d feel better if she could have showered and changed into fresh clothes, but she didn’t have anything with her.
“Do you think we can swing by my motel and get my stuff?” she asked as they walked toward his car.
“I packed up your clothes. They’re in the trunk.”
“You’re not even going to pretend you didn’t snoop through my room, are you?”
“Would you prefer I insult your intelligence by doing so?”
“I’d prefer you trust me.”
Jake turned to face her, a cocky grin twitching the corners of his bow-shaped mouth. “If our relationship was about trust, you wouldn’t have introduced yourself while holding a gun on me.”
“That’s different. Your reputation precedes you.”
“And yours doesn’t, which makes you all the more dangerous. It’s rule numero uno, Nyla. Never trust the unfamiliar.”
He turned away, leading her as they covered the distance to his car. Once there, he stood beside it, scanning the parking area, a look in his eye that said he was searching for someone.
Certain she knew who he was looking for, she said, “Still pining over your lost cat?”
He directed his gaze to her, narrowing his eyes into slits. “You have a thing against cats or something?”
“No, on the contrary, I think they’re beautiful creatures. I’ve even been compared to them,” she added, struggling not to chuckle.
“Whatever.”
“You know, I’m not buying this unfamiliarity thing between us. I know all about your pet cat, we’ve tussled a time or two, and we’re both hunters.”
“So you say.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means all I found in your motel room were clothes. Besides the weapons you currently have on, and your fighting skills, there’s nothing about you that says ‘hunter.’ You have no identification, no credit cards, no cell phone, just a small wad of cash in your pocket and an attitude. Unless, of course, everything else was in
your car, which was conveniently stolen. Funny how you didn’t report it stolen.”
“Would you report yours if it was stolen?”
Jake didn’t say anything, but she saw his jaw clench and knew that he knew she had him.
“I can report it if you want. I can have the cops here in minutes. Let’s see, Jakie. How many warrants do you have out on you? How many illegal weapons are you carrying? Shall we compare? And what do you think they’d find if they did recover my car?”
He swallowed hard and yanked open his door. “Get in the car, and let’s go.”
It was going to be a long ride.
Twenty minutes dragged by, feeling more like twenty hours, as Jake steered the Malibu down east end Louisville roads, traveling toward Cave Hill Cemetery. The radio was on, but the music didn’t seem to reach him.
Nyla stole glances at him from the corner of her eye, started to speak a few times, but lost her nerve. She wasn’t afraid of him, but she was afraid of losing him. If he got too annoyed with her and refused her help, she didn’t know how she’d stay with him without revealing what she truly was, and she couldn’t go the rest of his life being just his pet cat either. The whole situation was a mess.
“Are you feeling better?”
Nyla jerked, surprised by his sudden question. She glanced over to find him studying her.
“I told you that I’m all right.”
He looked back at the road, drumming his fingers along the steering wheel. It was an action he did when he was nervous, and he probably didn’t even realize it. He cleared his throat, started to say something, then stopped. Something else he did when he wasn’t quite sure what to do.
“Whatever you want to say, Porter, go on and spit it out.”
“What happened between us at the motel room?”
She felt her brow furrow. “What are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about there being a moment there when . . .” His voice trailed off as he seemed to search for the right words.
Nyla hoped he wouldn’t find them. She was sure he was talking about when the Heat had overtaken her, and she hoped he didn’t want to discuss it. It was hard enough keeping her desire under control while sitting next to him. If they talked about it . . .
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