by Mary Hughes
Dirk took the pages, muddy eyes clouding. “But…what is it?”
“The solution to the Schrimpf murder. File it. You’ll have your permanent shield in no time.” I didn’t do it because it was by the book. I didn’t do it because it was By Elena.
I did it because it was right. And it was worth it (and not just because it shut Dirk up). It was worth the mixed look of shock, hope and joy on his face. But more, it was worth it because justice had been served.
Besides, I knew I’d solved the case, even if I didn’t get the credit.
Dirk left, clutching the paper to his chest. I was sitting at my desk, feeling pretty good in general. Until Tight-ass stalked through the doorway.
“O’Rourke!” His voice was like a Cessna, his expression Scary Jack O’Lantern Number Four. “What the hell are you doing here? You’re fired!”
I stood. In a quiet, firm tone I said, “I don’t think so, sir.”
His voice raised another notch. “What do you mean by that? Don’t give me any lip, young lady!”
“You only busted me back to patrol. I’m still a cop.”
“And now I’m firing you!”
“Well, sir, if I’m fired, I’ll have to get a new job. And to get a new job, I’ll have to get a good haircut.”
“What the hell does a haircut have to do with—”
I took Titus by the arm—the one my father broke all those years ago. “While I’m sitting in the chair with Dolly Barton, I just might let something slip about your night-shift work. All your night-shift work, if you know what I mean. Sir.” I released him.
Tight-ass’s mouth kept flapping but nothing emerged.
“Dolly has been wondering how you afford those four-hundred-dollar haircuts in Chicago, sir. She wonders where you get the extra money. After all, a shift captain doesn’t earn that much. She’ll be relieved to know you’re not involved in anything…too illegal.”
Titus squeaked like a mouse. “All right! You’re not fired.” Chafing his arm, he stalked away. Spun in the doorway for a parting shot. “But you’re not a detective. And if I have anything to say about it, you never will be!” He stomped out.
I expelled a breath and fell back into my chair. I wasn’t fired.
But Titus would have plenty to say about me being a detective, none of it good.
Without Tight-ass’s recommendation, the Chief of Police would never promote me. Blackmailing Tight-ass was fine for keeping my job, but I wanted to earn my badge, dammit. And while the mayor had promised to put in a goot verd if I solved the Schrimpf case, he wouldn’t know I was the one who solved it.
I tried to remember that I had solved the case, even though no one would know but me. And as Sinatra sang, I’d done it my way.
A poor substitute when you’ve lost your dream.
–—
A couple nights later I brought an empty box to work, to pack away my things. I removed them from my desk—no, from the detectives’ desk—one by one. My family picture went in last and left an empty spot on the scarred wood. My hands felt heavy cleaning out the last vestiges of hope.
But I couldn’t put it off. The case was solved, the suspect arrested. At sunset Bo had dug Vlad up and fed him a half-dozen bags of blood. Sure enough Fakeula was back to blehing like he’d never been injured. I’d dragged him into the station where he confessed. He was sitting in a cell waiting to be questioned. Since the cell had mammoth east-facing windows, hopefully that would happen before sunrise.
I collapsed in the chair. Not my chair anymore. I rubbed the worn armrests with my thumb, trying to buck up, to get back on the horse. Down, but not conquered, stay in the r—the sharp ahem of a throat clearing brought my head up.
The waxed handlebar mustache and bristling sideburns were as familiar in Meiers Corners as Dolly’s Barton’s boobs. Even more familiar to me, since it had looked over my shoulder every night for the past month.
The Chief of Police, John Dirkson himself.
Belatedly I snapped to my feet. Wiping my suddenly perspiring hand, I offered it to him. “Sir. Det—Officer Elena O’Rourke. Sir.”
“At ease, O’Rourke. This isn’t the damn army.”
“Uh, yes, sir.”
“You’re as eager as my nephew. He thinks it’s the military too. Actually salutes. Nearly brained himself the last time he did.”
Now why did that sound familiar?
“In fact, that’s why I came. To discuss this.” The chief held out a sheaf of paper.
My report on the Schrimpf case.
I was confused. “Sir? That’s…Detective Ruffle’s report. Sir.”
Dirkson only chuckled. “We both know Ruffles didn’t write this, O’Rourke. I love my nephew dearly, my sister’s boy, after all. But his brain works at the speed of drying concrete.” The chief tapped the side of his nose. I never believed anyone actually did that, until Dirkson did. “No, I think we both know who solved the Schrimpf murder.”
I allowed myself to hope. “Yes, sir.”
“We have to let my nephew take the credit. You were officially off the case. Going against a direct order could cause more trouble for you than help.”
Hope hissed flat. “Yes, sir.”
“But I think I can see my way clear to crediting you with the collar. After all, that was opportunistic. You were just in the area, saw the suspect and apprehended him.”
Just wandering around Meiers Corners with a bazooka. “Yes, sir.”
“And you rescued my chuckle-headed nephew in the process. I think such bravery deserves a promotion, don’t you? To, say…full detective?”
Full detective? Me? Detective Elena O’Rourke. My dream come true. On the outside I was perfectly calm, but inside I was doing the Hamster Dance. “You won’t regret it, sir. I’ll work so hard…I’ll be the best third-shift full detective you’ve ever had.”
Dirkson sighed. “The young. So enthusiastic. So energetic.”
“Yes, sir,” I said, forgetting myself and saluting. I hit myself in the forehead and nearly gave myself a concussion. That hurt. Whoa. Maybe that was how Dirk had lost all his brain cells. I made a stern promise to myself never to salute again.
The chief was chuckling. “Thank you again, Detective O’Rourke. And good luck.”
Detective—until Tight-ass heard. My hamsters fell flat. “Uh, sir? One more thing?”
“Yes?”
“Uh, Captain Titus, sir. He’s not very happy with my performance.”
Dirkson nodded. “You were doing too good a job. Ernie thought you’d point a finger straight at his favorite hooker.” The chief put a finger to the side of his nose again. “She’s my favorite hooker too.”
Did everyone know Drusilla? Then I realized what Dirkson’s statement implied. “You know about Captain Titus’s…second career?”
“What a nice way to put it. ’Course I know. Old Tight-ass has been gunning for my position since day one. I made it my job to dig up every piece of dirt I could find on him.” With his finger aside his nose, Dirkson looked like a shrewd Santa Claus. “I was a pretty good detective myself, back in the day. Don’t worry about Ernie. I’ll handle him.”
“Thank you, sir. Thank you so much.”
“Well, goodbye, Detective O’Rourke. Congratulations again.”
“Goodbye, sir.” I sank back into my—my—chair.
I don’t know how long I sat like that…half-stunned by all the revelations, half-basking in the glow of my permanent promotion…when a mist gathered in the office. It swirled around my feet and up my legs, forming into two clever hands opening my pants. Attached to the hands were a warrior’s body and a face so handsome it could stop a woman’s heart.
“There was one good thing about the old days,” Bo murmured. “Lift your hips, sweetheart.”
“What’s that, Viking?”
“Skirts, Detective.” As soon as my butt came off the chair, he peeled the pants down to my ankles. Seeing what I still wore underneath his face lit like a light bulb. “But I
have to admit, thong panties more than make up for it.”
Bo pushed my knees apart and began his program of plundering. His tongue swept aside the lace triangle. Licked at my slit.
“Blatzky’s in the can, you know.” My panting made it “Blz in t’can.”
As if in reply, a huge grunt came from the bathroom.
“He’ll be in there for a while. In fact…” Bo grabbed the ends of my jeans and yanked them all the way off. Sliding his hands under my knees, he draped my legs over the arms of my chair and knelt before me. My vulva was fully open to his perusal. His eyes turned the clear blue of a warm sea. His expression was close to worshipful. He used one careful finger to pull aside the string of the already-damp thong.
“Fully-flowered and absolutely beautiful.” His canines erupted long and sleek. He bent, rubbed one inside my crease, stroking my slit stem to stern. I shivered. When he thrust a finger into me and pumped in rhythm with fang and tongue, I shuddered. Sweet tension built deep inside, released in a rush of heat and damp. He kept thrusting and I built higher. His fingers started to make thwucking noises sliding in and out.
He put his mouth to my clit and sucked. I hit the ceiling. He sucked me into nirvana, into heaven. Sucked until I was a bundle of nerve endings. Until I shot to my feet because I was about to blow.
Bo rose smoothly to his feet too, grabbing my waist and turning me into my desk. I seized the edges, glad I had when a second later he rammed his thick cock into me from behind. He filled me in one powerful thrust.
His claws nailed my desk on either side of my head. He began to ride me with deep, steady strokes. My vagina heated like paper on the edge of flame.
“I love your hair,” Bo said. Each word was punctuated by a stroke. “Your gorgeous mass of curls shudders every time I thrust. Pure seduction. Hell, Elena, everything about you is seduction. Your body. Your smell.”
“What about you? Your clever hands. Your massive shoulders. Your sweet words.” I groaned as he grew bigger inside me.
“Not nearly as exciting as you. Your beautifully shaped breasts. Your heat. Your pulse.”
“My blood?” I turned my head, exposing my throat.
“Elena.” Bo bent over me, his mouth plummeting to my neck. His fangs flashed white and pierced deep.
Lightning cracked. Thunder rolled. My whole body ignited. Wave after wave of climax rolled through me. Bo swelled and burst, filling me with liquid pleasure.
After, he sat in my chair and cradled me in his arms like an infant. I smiled sleepily at him. “Sex?”
He smiled back, and I didn’t imagine the tenderness there. “Love. I love you, Detective.”
Happiness bloomed inside. For some reason it wasn’t so threatening now, maybe because it was so right. “I love you too, Bo.” I snuggled a bit. The serenity fountain burbled, sounding a little giddy. “How long have you known?”
“That you were the one? First time I bit you.”
“Really?” I thought back to that first stunning orgasm, pressed to the floor of the Fudgy Delight. “Wow. Lucky I had that accident.”
“The fall was an accident. The kiss wasn’t.”
“It wasn’t?”
“No. I needed to taste you.”
“Why?”
“I can find anyone I’ve tasted. You were always out, alone, at night. With increased rogue activity. Totally clueless.”
“Hey, I object.”
He smiled. That sensuous curve still made me want to surf his waves. “I wanted to protect you, Elena. I maneuvered you into that kiss so I could bite you. I wasn’t counting on your taste, though. Like I’d been with antimatter—instant annihilation.”
“Huh. And I thought it was the perfume. Don’t ask.”
“I’d never smelled or tasted anything so good.” His eyes lit bright red, and I was surprised to see his fangs come to full attention.
“Yeah, but after that, it seemed you were trying to, well, not avoid me, ’cause you showed up everywhere I was.” I frowned. “But you weren’t as enthusiastic.”
“My reaction that first time scared me. My mentor explained that there’s a taste that signals a perfect lover. A mental strength that makes it long term.”
“Are you saying I’m your vampire love slave?”
He lifted his head to eye me strangely. “Just what have you been reading, Detective?”
“Um…”
“I was attracted to you, which frightened me. But I had to keep tabs on you. You were investigating a killing done by a vampire. Smart and determined as you are, it was only a matter of time before you figured out the truth.”
“So you did try to throw me off.”
“Only for your own good, Detective.” He nipped little kisses down my neck, and I shuddered. “But I got tired of fighting both you and myself. So I decided to woo you instead.”
“Woo me. That’s so old fashioned.”
“I’m an old-fashioned kind of guy.”
“Yeah. So you said. Skirts.”
“Don’t give up the thongs. I can modernize.”
Just before dawn, Bo carried me to my place. Drew the curtains and made love to me six or seven times before I passed out from sheer exhaustion.
He was still there when I woke up a few hours later. “Elena. I have something to ask you.” His expression was very serious.
“I’m clean,” I said. “No STDs.” No opportunity, which for the first time looked like a good thing.
Bo laughed. “I can’t get them anyway. Actually, I was going to ask two things.”
“Ask, already.”
“I’ve waited lifetimes for you, sweetheart. Would you live with me?”
Pleasure flooded me, followed by caution. “Live with you? Where? I thought the apartment building is full up.”
“Yes…but I hoped you wouldn’t mind sharing my room. The common areas are fairly good-sized.”
“Your bedroom upstairs?”
“Um, no. Downstairs is the one I actually use.”
“I remember. One to sleep, and one to make love. Although why two…?”
He flushed. “If we want a human partner…not that I’ve had any in the past few…we can’t bring them to a room without windows. Causes too many questions.”
“But you expect me to sleep with you in the basement. Where it’s dark, with no windows.”
His flush deepened. “It’s safer for me that way.”
“Uh-huh. Bed or shallow grave?”
“Elena…” His cheeks went brick red. “Bed. I’m not…we don’t…”
I smiled. I’d made Bo Strongwell sputter. “You don’t sleep in a coffin?”
“No! Or a grave, or anything but a nice warm bed.”
“And the dirt floor den, what’s that for? Mud wrestling?” I pretended to think on it. “That might be stimulating. Watching you and Thor mud wrestle.”
“Elena!” He turned bright red. “It’s where we rest up. Re-energize. But we don’t sleep there.”
“Where you re-energized for that bout of mind-blowing sex?”
His flush faded. “Which one?”
“Um, yeah.” I relented. “As it so happens, I’m a night person anyway. And windows are overrated, especially when you’re trying to sleep during the day.” I thought about it. “Besides, my friend Nixie is salivating to get out of her parents’ house. My place is cheap. She wouldn’t have to teach those satellite classes anymore.”
Bo’s eyes raised, cautiously hopeful. “Is that a yes?”
“That’s a yes.” He whooped and reached for me, but before he could show his appreciation, I stopped him. “What’s the other question?”
“The other…oh, yes.” If anything, he turned redder. “I didn’t use any protection. Tonight, or all the other times.”
“But I thought you couldn’t get STDs. And if you can’t get them, you can’t pass them on, right?”
“Yes, but…” Bo cleared his throat. Looked awkward. “Have you considered having children? Um, with me?”
> “Oh, shit, am I pregnant?” And if I were? “You’d be on hook for half the feedings, buster.”
“I could do that.”
“And half the diaper changes.”
He made a face, but nodded.
“Well…”
Almost wistfully he said, “Mrs. Cook has missed having babies in the house. She had six children. And twenty grandchildren.”
“And they lived with you? All of them?”
“Yes.”
“And you didn’t kill them?”
Bo managed to look offended. “No, of course not. They’re children, Elena. They need to be nurtured.”
Wow. I was right. Primo daddy material. “Yeah. Okay.”
“Okay?” he echoed, almost as if he didn’t remember what he’d asked.
“If you’re up for it, I am. I’d rather plan, but—”
I was cut off by him sweeping me into a tight, joyful embrace. “Elena! I’ll make you happy, sweetheart. I’ll be the best husband a woman ever had.”
“Husband! Put me down, I didn’t say I’d marry you.”
He set me down. “But—”
“You didn’t ask.”
“Oh, Elena.” Bo retrieved his pants from the floor, dug into a pocket. Going down on one knee he held up his palm to me. Something glittered in it. I peered closer.
Light flashed, so bright it blinded me. “Ow! Hey.” I clamped my eyes shut.
“Sorry.” Bo chuckled. Then his voice went soft and serious. “Elena O’Rourke. Detective extraordinaire. I love you to heaven and beyond. Will you marry me?”
Eyes tightly shut, I stuck out my left hand. “Well, it’s about time, Viking. Yes. I’ll marry you. ’Til death…do we part?”
“We’ll talk about that later.” Bo took my hand and slipped something on my finger. When he released my hand, unexpected weight dragged it toward the floor.
“Whoa.” I opened my eyes, blinked. Rubbed them and blinked again. “What is this, the fucking Koh-I-Noor? Can an apartment manager afford this?”
Bo’s beautiful lips curved, his blue eyes sparkling like a sun-drenched sea. “I’ve spent centuries amassing a fortune. I’m more than a billionaire. I thought you knew that.”
“Uh…no.” I sank onto the bed. Bo Strongwell, Viking Building Manager—a billionaire? I would never, ever, ever look down on someone because of their profession again. “So why don’t you build a mansion? Or a palace?”
