Whiskey, Vamps, and Thieves (Southern Vampire Detective #1)

by Selene Charles

  With a hungry groan, he lowered his mouth and met mine. His touch was gentle. Soft. There was nothing domineering or dominating about what he did, not the way James had been with me. Not the way Talix had been.

  But the feeling with Merc was so much deeper. I whimpered, lighting up like a spark and moving into him. Merc broke away much too soon, shaking his head, and his voice was heavy with gravel and regret as he said, “I smell them all over you.”

  I shook my head. “It’s not what you think, Merc. It’s not—”

  “Dammit, Scar.” And though his words were rough, the touch of his thumbs on my cheeks was feather light.

  Then pulling my face forward, he kissed my brow.

  “Go to sleep, Vampire.”

  Then he turned, and with my heart in my throat because I knew something was going on with him, I watched him leave. Something he’d never tell me, but something that would break my heart in two when I finally learned what it was.

  ~*~

  I wished I could say I slept the sleep of the damned, but I didn’t. I tossed and turned the entire night, unable to keep from thinking about the things that’d happened to me in the past week alone—Clarence’s madness, my parents’ murder, Jamie’s lies, and Mercer’s silence, to name a few.

  The sun hadn’t even set before I was forcing my weary body off the bed. I hadn’t changed when I’d come home, I’d spread-eagled on the bed, wearing the same shredded gown from last night.

  My hair was a rat’s nest. My lipstick had smeared up my cheek. And my bags were a deep, vivid purple. I’d had a little to drink from James the night before but not much, not enough to help me feel satisfied.

  I trudged toward my fridge, opened the door, and glared at the final two Baggies left. I kept forgetting to restock. With a glower, I snatched them up, walked them over to my table, and sat.

  I’d just gotten through my first pouch and was reaching for the second when a knock sounded on my door. I sniffed and immediately felt the hackles rise on the back of my neck.

  “Go away. Unless you’re here to finally tell me the effing truth, I don’t want to hear it.”

  James grumped. “Just open up, Vampire. You want to talk. I’ll talk. But first open.”

  Curious more than I should have been, I shuffled over to the door. I felt exceptionally human today. Achy. Tired. And not in the mood for games.

  After yanking the door open, I stared coolly at him. James was freshly scrubbed. He smelled clean and soapy and had changed into a pair of scuffed-at-the-knees jeans and a form-fitting band T-shirt. I hated him so much right now.

  I brought my Baggie to my mouth and sucked on it obnoxiously. His cheeks twitched, his Glasgow grin stretching in the process.

  “You look like shite today.”

  Drilling him with an evil stare, I shook my head. “No. You don’t get to tease me today. You don’t get to pretend that what went down last night didn’t happen. I’ve had time to think things through, and you know what, wolf boy? Nothing’s adding up. Not why you were there. Not why you went in alone. And not why Diane was called away. Clarence didn’t send you out there last night, did he?”

  Glancing over his shoulder quickly, he moved forward, toeing the doorway. “Invite me in.”

  “Why? Afraid I might tattle on you? Afraid I might go back to the Alpha and tell him one of his own is making moves against him? What exactly are you afraid of, dog?”

  His jaw clenched. Yeah, I went there. And no, I didn’t give a rat’s ass. To be honest, I didn’t care if James was making moves against Clarence. Not my circus, not my monkeys. But I did care if those moves hurt Mercer.

  I gripped the doorframe tight, shaking my head. “You have five seconds to tell me something before I kick you off my porch. Five. Four. Three. Two—”

  “I was there to kill her.” He said it so softly that even I had to strain to hear it.

  “Why?” I answered back.

  “Because there’s a war brewing, and I’m picking sides.”

  He didn’t look at me as he said it, but I knew he’d told me the truth.

  “Whose side?”

  “The right one. The only one.” Then he shoved his fingers through his hair and grimaced. “I’m no allowed to tell you things, Scar. Things I know. But you’re walking in the middle of a shite storm and it’s no coincidence.”

  I squeezed the Baggie in my hand so hard that blood squirted on my chin and down my chest. His eyes widened, and then he sniffed.

  It wasn’t that his words shocked me. Quite the contrary, it was the fact that he’d just acknowledged my own fears that unraveled me.

  “Are you talking of the pack?” Why did my lips feel so numb all of a sudden?

  He shook his head. “It’s more, lass. It’s a whole lot more. I dunno everything that’s going on, but I’ve got my suspicions. That’s why I was there last night. To find out what.”

  I was following only half the conversation, but when a wolf was bound to silence by his Alpha, half a conversation was usually all one was given. Interpreting such a conversation came by listening to the words not spoken. The important things left unsaid.

  I nodded. “What does Blanca know? And why did you almost kill her before you learned it?”

  Licking his front teeth and clenching his fists in a posture of agitation, he grimaced and looked toward his left, as though searching for something or someone.

  He was nervous. And that in turn was making me hella nervous.

  “I think she’s the key, lass.”

  I shrugged. “So why kill her?”

  “Because her death would have served its own purpose.”

  I rocked back on my heels. Mulling over his words, trying to understand how it was that her death could affect anything. And just what in the hell was she the key to?

  “What do I have to do with this, Jamie?” I asked, slipping into the term of endearment that’d once been so familiar.

  He sucked in a deep breath, staring at me with something akin to desperation in his eyes. Then he slammed his palm into my doorframe.

  “Shite,” he snarled. “C’mon, lass. Hear it. Listen. Figure this out before it’s too late.”

  “Too late for what?”

  “For you! Damn you! I’m doing what I can here, Scar, but you’ve got to help me.”

  Feeling frustrated with myself, I shoved him back off my porch. “Do you think I don’t want to? Do you think this isn’t driving me up a wall? There’s a wall of silence with you wolves that no matter how hard I try, I can never crack. I’m alone in this. Screw you all.”

  Chewing out an expletive, he jumped my stairs two at a time, grabbed my hands, and snarled, “If you were alone, I wouldn’t have come back. You’re not alone, Scar, but I canna always be here. I canna always—”

  “Be here? You weren’t here. You left me. Whatever else you say, you left me. Look, I’m sorry I’m too dense to figure it out. But I need you to go. The fact is, Jamie, I just don’t trust you. And I’m not sure if I ever should have. So just...go.” The last I said softly and allowed him to hear my hurt, my pain.

  He could be telling me the truth, but it could be nothing more than lies. I didn’t know what he was into, and I was no longer sure I wanted to know.

  The muscle in his jaw twitched, and then he shook his head. “Ah, feck this. I’ll do this without you.”

  My heart bled to hear him say it, but I had to let him go. James was dangerous for me. A drug that called to me on a visceral level. I’d spent far too much of my time focused on him and not enough on finding my bogeyman.

  I snorted. “Then go, James. It’s what you do best.”

  I didn’t give him time to say anything else. I closed the door, resting my weight against it as I heard him turn, swearing fiercely under his breath. The engine of his bike purred to life not a second later, and then he tore up my dirt road.

  Gone. Just as before.

  I closed my eyes, but no tears came. I was through crying over that man. Last night I�
�d seen a monster, a remorseless shifter who’d do whatever it took to have his way. Blanca was no saint, but to set upon her while she’d already been down and out... James wasn’t who I thought he was. And his explanation tonight hadn’t changed a thing.

  Footsteps padded softly outside, and I knew immediately who they belonged to. Frowning, I peeked out the window.

  Mercer was leaning against my porch rail, staring out at the night, looking sad and lonely, and though I didn’t want anything else to do with shifters, I couldn’t ignore him.

  I opened the door on silent hinges. He tensed a split second but didn’t turn, only shook his head.

  “Something’s happening, Scar,” he said low.

  After grabbing a shawl off the wall hook—not because I was physically cold but because I needed some armor—I tiptoed to him. “Clarence?”

  I already knew the answer before he nodded.

  “The Wolf Pack’s been meeting in private.”

  I cocked my head. “But you’re one of th—”

  “No.” He exhaled before finally turning to look at me.

  His eyes were bloodshot. He wasn’t sleeping at all. It broke my heart to see him that way.

  Moving next to him, I dropped my hand over his. At first he did nothing. A minute later, he spread his fingers, then grasped hold of mine tight, hanging on as though for dear life.

  “They’re keeping me out of the loop. And it’s bad.”

  I snorted. “A, I’m not surprised they’re keeping you out of the loop. And B, Merc, it’s always bad when the Pack gets involved.”

  “No, Scar.” His tone was so deadly serious that my humor vanished instantly. “It’s worse than that. This has nothing to do with me defending you, if that’s what you’re wondering.”

  Well, I hadn’t been. But since he mentioned it...

  “There’s something they don’t want me to know.”

  “How do you know this?” I asked, leaning into him.

  His body trembled, and he dropped his chin to his chest.

  “Mercer?”

  I was terrified. Terrified of what was happening to my brother. Terrified that he’d never tell me. Terrified of what it all meant.

  “Scar, did you go see Harlen yet?”

  I blinked, confused for a second by the sudden switch in conversation. “I...uh...no.”

  In all the chaos of the past few days, I’d completely forgotten about the junker human.

  He tugged on my hand. “Go. Go now. You need to talk to him.”

  “Ookay.” My brows dipped.

  I really had meant to go see him. I wasn’t sure what he could tell me that would effect such a huge change in either of my investigations, but I hadn’t not gone to see him just because I’d been too lazy to do it. I’d learned from my years of being a cop that sometimes the most innocuous thing could break the case. Fact was, I’d simply forgotten in all the chaos of the past few days.

  “Mercer, I’m sorry. I really had every intention of going. I’m just messed up from my parents, and all tha—”

  “Scarlett.” Mercer turned me around until I faced him head-on. His hands ran up and down my arms gently, and my body sizzled. I swallowed hard, wondering, hoping, fearing he might try to kiss me again.

  “Do you trust me?” he asked softly, and I could have sworn I heard the night itself holding its breath while awaiting my answer.

  I palmed his scruffy cheek, loving that stupid lumberjack beard of his. “Always,” I said and meant it.

  His chest heaved, and then he turned and kissed my palm again, but it lacked the chemistry I’d felt before.

  “I’ll never let anything happen to you, Scar. I don’t care what Clarence says.”

  I sucked in a sharp breath, covering his mouth with my hand. “Please, don’t say those things out l—”

  He stopped me cold when he took one of my fingers in his mouth and kissed the tip of it gently, almost reverently, and there it was. The heat. The fire. The burn. That need that made me want to beg him to tell me what he was doing.

  I stepped into his body, loving his warmth. He dropped his forehead to mine and inhaled deeply, and I swore by all that was holy that it felt right. As if everything I’d ever wanted and ever needed was in this man.

  And just when I thought that maybe he felt the same, he gently pushed me away. “Go to Harlen.”

  Then he stepped to the side, held out his arm, and lifted a brow.

  I stood there. Opened my mouth. But nothing came.

  “Someday, Merc, you’re gonna push me away for the last time. Whatever it is you think you’re doing, it’s not funny.”

  I was still in the stupid tattered gown from last night. Shoving past him to my bedroom, I didn’t bother to stop and shower. I grabbed a pair of tight black leather pants, some boots, and a halter top. I was just in that kind of mood.

  When I came back out, he was still there. I’d expected him gone. Clamping down on my back teeth, I didn’t say anything to him as I snatched the keys from the fishbowl, walked out the door, ran to my truck, and drove off.

  Chapter 16

  Mercer

  It took every ounce of strength he possessed not to chase her down, grab her out of that damned truck, and tell her the truth.

  He watched as the glowing red taillights grew dim and faded in a cloud of dust. The only thing that meant anything to him in the world wasn’t safe, and he didn’t know what to do about it.

  Mercer felt the Veiler’s oppressive presence before he even spoke.

  “I did as you asked. I’ve sent her to the junker.” He twirled on Dean, staring boldly into those tricolored eyes, wanting to rip the man’s throat out and feast on it.

  Dean chuckled as if he knew exactly what Mercer thought.

  “You’re pulling these strings, aren’t you, demon?”

  Snorting, Dean rubbed his square jaw. “Demon, no. And maybe. Who can say?”

  “You told me twenty-five years ago to guard her. I did.”

  “No.” Dean wagged a finger. “What you did was keep her weak.”

  Forgetting the fact that the monster was something never to be tangled with, Mercer snatched Dean up by the collar, growling furiously as he said, “I kept her safe! And now, now you’re sending her to hell’s doors. Fuck you and the horse you rode in on.”

  Batting his hands away as though Mercer hadn’t been using all his strength, Dean straightened his jacket. “Look, dog, I’ll forget you just dared to lay your filthy hands on my thousand-dollar suit, and I promise not to end your miserable, pathetic excuse for a life.”

  “I liked you better when you were a bitch.”

  Dean snorted, chuckling deeply.

  “Tell me she’s going to survive.”

  Dean narrowed his eyes. “Don’t you even think about going to her.”

  Mercer’s chest ached. His wolf, caged but always too damned close to the surface, growled. The animal bled through his eyes.

  A slow, curling grin transformed the Veiler’s handsome features. “Choices, Mercer. That’s how a future is shaped. By the little ones taken along the way.”

  “Don’t tell me any more about damned choices. I’ve done everything you’ve asked. I’ve never had a choice.”

  “Oh, you’ve had them, wolf. You just never realized it.”

  Knuckles cracked as he rolled his fist tight.

  “Will. She. Survive. This?”

  Dean cocked his head. “Well, I suppose the simple answer is...I. Don’t. Know.”

  “If you don’t fucking know, then what the hell good are you?” And shoving Dean aside, Mercer turned and ran, shifting into his wolf and howling his rage into the night.

  ~*~

  Dean

  “Was that wise?”

  Dean chuckled at the feminine voice speaking over his shoulder. Turning, he stared at the stunning vision of beauty he himself had crafted.

  Pale, with long black hair and magnificent lavender wings, she was a warrior. A goddess. And his second-in-comman
d.

  “Ah, Pandora, I should have known you were following me.”

  She shrugged, and his lips curved. Pandora had a lover. A lover she’d gone to hell for. Loyal to him to a fault. Too bad.

  Then again, he doubted even she could handle Death.

  “I saw the strings of fate unraveling at a shocking pace. I followed the bread crumbs. No surprise where they led.” She smirked, and tiny fangs poked out from her luscious lips.

  She’d once been a sex demon, and even now a trace of Lust still clung to her.

  “Who is she?”

  He snorted. “Wouldn’t you love to know?”

  She looked out toward where the wolf had run, and he knew her brilliant mind had already begun to piece the puzzle together.

  “With you, Death,” she finally said, rolling those piercing lavender eyes his way, “I’m not sure I would.”

  He chuckled. “But I am glad you came.”

  She laughed. “You old flatterer.”

  “Some things never change,” he said softly.

  “No, no, I guess they don’t.” She glanced down the long road again, then blinked. “Does he know? The wolf named Mercer, does he know the truth yet?”

  “About her? Do you know the truth?”

  Dean seriously doubted it. None but he knew what Scarlett really was, and he’d kill almost anyone that dared to discover the truth. Death had few weaknesses in the world, and one stood before him.

  She bit her bottom lip. “No, not about her. Though I suspect I could astonish even you with my powers of deduction. With a d, not an s.” Her pretty eyes twinkled.

  He snorted, amused.

  She flicked her wrist. “No, dear Death, I don’t mean about her. I mean about him. Does he know?”

  Dean stepped forward until his loafers brushed against her boot tips. “Figured me out, have you?”

  “You’re a one-trick pony, Death. And I’ve been down this road before. Poor bastard.”

  He snorted. “Yeah, but he’s playing right into my hands. So...”

  She shook her head. “You never cease to amaze.”

  He held out a hand and covered his stomach with the other as though to bow.

  “Do you need my help?” she asked, and he knew exactly what kind of help she meant.