Drake the Defender

by Rhiannon Neeley

“I … I think we may have a serial killer or something. We found another body.”

  “What!” God was testing her. That had to be it. “Harry—talk to me.”

  “This one has been burned too, but it’s—different. Not like the others.”

  Grace held the mike. Static crackled loudly, sounding like bacon frying. “Alright Harry. Secure the scene. I’ll handle this end.”

  “’Four,” Harry said.

  She turned her attention fully on Drake. “Hands on your head.”

  Drake frowned. “Why?”

  “You’re under arrest for suspicion of murder. Now, hands on your head.” For a moment, Grace thought that he was going to balk but then he eased himself up to a standing position and slowly raised his arms, locking his fingers together behind his head. Grace reached behind her back and pulled her handcuffs from their spot on her belt. She walked up behind him and snapped one cuff on his right wrist. “You have the right to remain silent,” she began, pulling his cuffed arm down behind his back to his waist. “Whatever you say can be used against you.” Grace looked around Drake’s shoulder. She jerked her head, signaling Joe to come to her. Joe shook his head no. Grace glared at him. She now held the gun in one hand and the empty handcuff in the other. Grace let out an exasperated sigh and holstered her gun. She swiftly pulled down Drake’s other wrist and cuffed him. While she finished reciting the Miranda rights, Grace couldn’t help noticing just how good Drake smelled. He smelled like warm spice and—man. She was tempted to lean forward and rest her cheek against his back so she could just breathe him in. “Do you understand these rights?” she asked, ignoring her attraction to her prisoner.

  “Yes,” Drake said. “Who did I allegedly kill?” He turned to face her.

  Grace sucked in her breath. Drake’s smile was non-existent, his expression serious. His eyes were a warm, light brown, the color of good whiskey, framed by dark lashes. What struck her was the look of sadness in his eyes. He looked weary, as if he’d seen too much even though he couldn’t be over thirty years old. Grace cleared her throat. “The bodies of two young women were found this morning, and another just minutes ago.”

  “What makes you think I had anything to do with it?”

  Grace wished, hoped, prayed that he hadn’t done it but the evidence was there. She couldn’t deny it. Damn, even though he was an odd character for this tiny town, Grace had liked him. Hell, she thought, I’ve fantasized about him. She’d never been with a man who looked so—dangerous. She’d never had the urge until she met Drake.

  Grace ignored his question and spoke to Joe instead. “Joe, I’m going to deputize you right here on the spot, then you’re going to pat him down for weapons.”

  Joe’s face turned white. “The hell you say!”

  Grace felt like screaming. “A male officer should…”

  “I ain’t feelin’ up no man,” Joe interrupted, his face growing red. “’Specially one what’s arrested for murder.”

  “Oh for…” Grace stopped herself. This was not how the Roan County Sheriff should act. “Alright,” she said, narrowing her eyes, “then you come over here and watch while I do it.”

  Joe waved his hands in the air. “Nope. I ain’t doin’ that neither. Where’s the other guys? You got four deputies…”

  “Harry, Arnie and Junior are on the crime scene,” she snapped.

  “Well, where’s Willie then?”

  “On vacation!”

  Joe shook his head. “I ain’t doin’ it.”

  Grace rested her hand on the butt of her gun and looked at Drake. One corner of his mouth was turned up in the beginnings of a grin. It just made her that much madder. Enough of this, she thought, keying her mike. “Grace to Dot.” She knew just the person for the job.

  “This is Dot. Go ahead.”

  Static literally sizzled over the radio, making Grace jump again. “Dot—as of this moment, you are now my deputy. I’m bringing in a prisoner. Then we’re going to frisk him.”

  “What do you want me to do?” Dot came back. Her voice was all business, even through the increasing interference on the radio.

  “Have the cell ready.”

  “Done.”

  Grace looked at Drake, her smile tight. She pulled her gun back out of the holster and trained it on him. “Let’s go, Mr. Raven.”

  “Can’t argue with a woman with a gun. Point the way,” he said. Then he smiled.

  * * * *

  Drake had the shock of his life when he turned around on the barstool to find Grace pointing a gun at him. But after the initial ‘What the hell?’ thought came the ‘Damn, Baby, you sure fill out that uniform’. But it didn’t take long for Drake to realize that Grace—who he would have never dreamed was a cop—meant business.

  Walking out of the bar in handcuffs and landing in jail was not how he had pictured his day ending.

  “Hold it,” Grace said, when they reached the parking lot.

  Drake looked around. His was the only car in the lot. “Don’t you have a car?”

  “No. I don’t. We’re going to walk,” she said. Grasping his arm just above the elbow and started to walk. “Come on,” she said. They rounded the corner of the bar and started down Main Street.

  “This is … different,” he said, glancing down at her. He noticed that she still had her gun drawn. “Are you going to shoot me?”

  Grace kept her eyes straight ahead as they walked in front of a general store. Two old men sat on the porch. Both straightened in their chairs, gawking as they passed.

  “If you give me a reason to shoot you, I will,” she said. She gave him a look out of the corner of her eye. “But I won’t kill you.” She looked directly at him. “I’ll just make sure that it hurts. Really bad.” She smiled and gave him a wink.

  Whoa, he thought. Grace had more spark than he realized. When he first met her, he had a completely different impression. He had assumed that she had been sitting in the bar that night, sipping beer alone, waiting for a man to pick her up. She’d had that look of desperation in her eyes that Drake thought was linked to loneliness.

  But now—she was demanding, powerful and quick-tongued. Drake thought she was the sexiest thing walking. But he didn’t want to test her. She just might shoot him.

  His thoughts turned to what she had said about the murders. Two young women and another body. Damn, they had screwed up. He and Holt hadn’t covered the remains of the vampire they had found well enough. It had been a young boy at one time before it became a monster. Drake and Holt had severed the head and burned the body, but the fire had not been hot enough to destroy the bones. Once taken down to bone, the sun could do no more damage. Drake should have buried it. The two women—he knew right away what had happened. They had been in such a hurry to return to the Unkindness after destroying Connor Fagan that they hadn’t remembered to clean up their mess. Connor Fagan had been a thorn in their side ever since he had killed Drake’s Uncle Roth. They had all felt vindicated with Fagan’s demise. What the Ravens did for a living was kill vampires. It wasn’t a living really—it was a life purpose. And it cost the family dearly at times. The threat of losing another one of the Unkindness contributed to their desire to get back to base in a hurry. Dirk, Drake’s cousin, was in need of a transfusion. He had been infected to the point of actually consuming blood but he hadn’t been fully turned into a vampire. Casey Delaney, the woman who Dirk had found in the hands of Connor Fagan, had been fully turned. And Dirk wanted her saved.

  Drake shook his head. They had been sloppy. Now he was going to have to get himself out of this particular mess.

  Thunder rumbled overhead, drawing his attention to the sky. Clouds rolled above, darkening the sky. The air itself felt heavy with humidity. It had been a bright sunny day when he had entered Joe’s Bar. Not anymore. The first drops of rain started to fall just as they arrived at the Sheriff’s office.

  * * * *

  Grace opened the side door of the building and urged Drake through. She followed right behind. S
he followed him into the tiny holding area. It was a small room, twelve by twelve, the walls were concrete blocks and painted stark white. On one side was the actual holding cell itself. It ran the whole twelve foot length but was only six feet wide. There were two bunks bolted onto the wall, a table with two chairs attached to it with braces. A small sink. And of course, a toilet. The toilet, though not completely private, was blocked from full view with a three-foot high cement block partition. If someone sat on it, you were still able to see their head and shoulders. The door to the cell was open where Dot must have been inside, putting sheets on one of the cots. The other half of the area held a small Formica-topped table, two chairs and an old refrigerator where they kept some drinks for the prisoners.

  Grace holstered her gun again. “Stand against the bars, your back to me.”

  Drake tilted his head and gave her a quizzical look but did what she said. Grace pushed the talk button on the intercom. “Dot, I’m in the holding cell with the prisoner. I need you in here.”

  “Be there in a minute,” Dot replied over the speaker.

  “Sorry about this,” Grace said, keeping her distance from Drake but her eye on him.

  “You’re just doing your job,” Drake said. “Are you ready to tell me why I’m a suspect?”

  “Wouldn’t you rather wait for a lawyer?” Grace asked. Her stomach growled loudly. Grace felt heat creep into her cheeks. She knew he had to hear it.

  “That depends,” Drake said. “Maybe if you told me just how deep in shit you think I’m in, I’ll know whether I need a lawyer or not.”

  “Let’s see … how deep in shit are you? Put it this way, Mr. Raven,” Grace said, leaning her butt against the table. “Right now, you’re in so deep you can’t breathe.”

  Thunder crashed, shaking the building. Then, the lights went out.

  “God blast it!” Grace yelled, automatically reaching for her gun. “Can my day get any worse?” The emergency light in the corner clicked on, shining a beam of light into the cell. “Don’t move,” Grace warned as she moved to the door of the holding area. She tried the handle. No good. When the power went out, it automatically locked. “Shit.” She keyed the mike on her radio. All she got was a beep. The battery was dead.

  “Something wrong?”

  Grace turned and faced him.

  He was still standing at the bars but he was looking directly at her. She couldn’t see his eyes but Grace could feel their heat. She slowly took in a shaky breath. She needed a cigarette. She needed something to eat. She needed this day to end so she could start over and hope that the next day wouldn’t be so gosh darn complicated.

  What she didn’t need was to be a police officer who was up for re-election in the fall and who, at the moment, was locked inside a very private room with a prisoner who was a suspect in a multiple murder. Especially when he was the sexiest man she had ever seen and her body hungering for an orgasm as much as her tummy grumbled to be fed.

  Chapter Three

  Drake felt the building shake under the onslaught of the storm. “Is this building going to hold up?”

  Grace shot him a look. “Of course.” She turned back to the door and jiggled the handle. “Dot? You out there?”

  “We’re locked in, huh?” Drake asked.

  “Yes,” she answered.

  “Interesting.” Now if he could just get her to let him out of these handcuffs then they could talk about why she’d arrested him in the first place. And if they were locked in here for any length of time—well—he could think of quite a few things they could do to keep themselves occupied. “Electronic lock,” he said, moving to her side. “I take it there’s a key?”

  Grace had her ear against the door. “No. No key.” She banged a hand on the door. “Dot!”

  Drake didn’t hear anyone on the other side of the door. “Maybe she’s scared or something.”

  Grace snorted. “Dot? She’s not afraid of anything. Shit, I forgot the damn place is soundproof, that’s all. She can’t hear us.”

  Drake leaned down. “Are you?” he asked, his mouth next to her ear. He sensed her stiffening but kept himself from delving into her mind to find out why.

  “Am I what?”

  “Afraid.”

  She turned to face him and looked him directly in the eye. “I’m not afraid of you, if that’s what you mean.”

  “Well,” he said, taking a step closer to her, “if you’re not afraid of me, how about losing these bracelets?”

  Grace cleared her throat. “Um … yes … well.” She stepped to the side, putting herself a bit farther from him. Cleared her throat again. Took a deep breath.

  Drake waited, holding back his smile while she tried to get her poker face in order. She was having a hard time of it. He knew she was attracted to him. He’d known it that night they’d met in the bar. She hadn’t blinked twice when he had sat down at her table and smiled his toothy smile. The way he had been dressed at the time—his normal black with leather and spikes—hadn’t even phased her although he knew he was totally out of place in a little country bar like Joe’s. That’s one of the things that had intrigued him about her. Usually, he tended to put people on guard. But she hadn’t been that night.

  She was trying to be now. He could understand her position. She was a cop. He was a prisoner. It wouldn’t be good for her career to fraternize with a prisoner. Drake grinned. But she wanted to. He could pick up her thoughts, her attraction to him. Drake thought that maybe the lady cop wanted to get a taste of ‘bad boy’.

  Finally, she turned to face him. Her look was serious but it was tenuous, as if it could shatter at any moment. “It’s hard to tell how long we’ll be locked in here, Mr. Raven,” she said, her head held high. “If you’re agreeable, I can search you, but—.” She pointed a finger at him. “—you will agree to a female officer searching you without another officer present and you will not use the fact in court to get your case thrown out. Should it go to court, I mean.”

  “And if I agree, you’ll remove the cuffs?”

  She nodded. “I will. But I’ll have to put you in the cell. So … you okay with that?”

  Drake straightened and moved directly into the beam of light cast by the emergency light. He spread his legs and winked. “Search away.”

  * * * *

  Oh boy.

  Grace’s day had gone from bad to worse and now she was going to have to search him while trying to keep her hands from shaking. It wasn’t going to be easy, especially since when she’d first laid eyes on him a few days ago, she had envisioned running her hands over his long, lean body. Just thinking of it now made her panties damp.

  Grace mentally slapped herself. You’re not that sex starved. Get the job done. You arrested him for suspicion of murder, remember?

  She bit the inside of her cheek to bring herself back to the task at hand. “Alright,” she said, using her ‘firm cop’ voice. “Turn around.”

  He turned, putting his back to her.

  She wriggled her fingers as she stepped up to him. “Are you carrying any weapons?”

  “Only one.”

  Her hand went straight to the butt of her gun. “What?”

  “I call him the Lady Pleaser.”

  Grace let out a snort. She couldn’t help it. “I’ll just bet that’s a hard name to live up to,” she shot back.

  “Up and hard, he is. Most of the time.”

  Cocky and sarcastic, Drake Raven was the most obnoxious man she had ever met. Matter of fact, he was different from the men she was used to. And damn if you don’t like it, she told herself. It also made her want to be a little wild herself. Grace put one hand on his shoulder and used her foot to nudge his legs wider. “Well, let’s just see if he’s hiding something today then.”

  Then Grace reached between his legs and cupped his balls.

  “Honey, it’s going to take more than one hand,” Drake said.

  A laugh escaped her. She took her hand from his crotch—which by the feel of it, he was tel
ling the truth about having to use two hands—and placed it on his other shoulder. “That remains to be seen,” she said, beginning with his shoulders and moving down his arms, searching for concealed weapons.

  “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours,” he said.

  “I’ll just bet you would,” Grace said. She had to stop this wordplay before it went too far. The only reason she had checked his crotch first was because it was a usual spot for prisoners to hide drugs. She’d have to run a hand down the front of his pants to check there when she got to that side. Grace ran her tongue over her upper lip. Damn, it was getting hotter by the minute in here with the A/C not working.

  Her hands moved to his sides. When she touched his ribs, he winced and made a hissing sound.

  “Are you hurt?” she asked, lightening her touch.

  “Just—ah—had a bit of a fall. I’m fine.”

  Grace didn’t believe him but resumed her search, using a more delicate touch. When her hands reached his hips, she slowed. Crouching down as she went, she slid her palms down the skin-tight leather that sheathed his legs. The warmth of his body made it feel like she was running her hands directly over his bare skin.

  “Have you ever thought of switching careers?” he asked.

  Grace stood. “To what?”

  He turned to face her. “You’d make a great masseuse.”

  “Funny.” She began to run her hands over his chest. His T-shirt was beginning to get damp. It was hot in the small room. A huge crack of thunder sounded a rumble through the air.

  “Do these storms normally last very long?” Drake asked.

  “Sometimes they sort of get hung up on the mountain top. Can’t make it over, so they hover over the town here. Sometimes they can last for hours.”

  “Hmm,” he said. “How long does the battery in that emergency light last?”

  “About two—.” Grace met his eyes. There was a spark highlighting the whiskey color of his eyes. “—hours.”

  “So, if the power is out longer than two hours…” His voice trailed off.

  “We’ll be in the dark.”

  “Interesting.”

  “I wish you’d stop saying that.” She resumed her search. She slid her hand into one of his pants pocket.