Синтия Иден - Midnight Sins

He’d stayed away, knowing he had to keep his distance until he verified her alibis for the murders. Sex with a suspect wasn’t something he particularly wanted complicating his life.

But the lady had been cleared now.

According to Colin, five waitresses and two bartenders had placed Cara at Paradise Found right at the time of the first two kills. And one very nosy, sharp-eyed, elderly neighbor had backed up her story about being home alone during the time of House’s murder.

Ms. Murphy, former schoolteacher and extreme art enthusiast—judging by the dozens of canvases in her den—had cheerfully told him that “I saw her come racing home right after five. In that bright red car of hers. Went in, stayed in.” A beetled frown had pulled down her white brows. “I thought a man would come and see her, but,” a rather disappointed sigh followed, “no one came that night.”

“So she was home from a little after five until ten p.m.?” He’d asked.

She’d jerked her thumb to a canvas covered in dark gray paint. “I was on the porch, trying a new technique. I call it night painting…”

“Uh, huh.”

“I was there till midnight.” Her fingers, stained with paint, had floated in the air between them. “Cara never left. I’d swear my life on it.” The lady had stuck with that story even after repeated questioning from both him and Colin.

The desk clerk had also been shown a photo lineup. The guy had stared at the line of six blondes, and shaken his head. “I-I don’t think I s-see her.” His words had been husky, the beer still strong on his breath.

“You don’t think or you know she’s not there?” Colin had pressed.

The bleary eyes had cleared for a moment. “She ain’t there.”

So, now, it appeared that Cara was in the clear.

Absolutely perfect.

A car horn sounded nearby—close enough to have Todd jerking in his seat. He was parked outside Paradise Found. He swore softly as he realized he’d been sitting in the car, staring at absolutely nothing, for the last ten minutes.

But, well, he had a few problems on his hands. He had to convince a woman who thought he was a major asshole that he just might be dateable.

Might .

He also had to catch a killer.

His life was damn busy these days.

With a harsh exhalation of air, Todd finally left his car. His weapon pressed into his back as he walked, and as he drew closer to the dark doors of the club, he couldn’t help but remember his last trip to the bar.

He’d had the unfortunate pleasure of meeting Niol for the first time then. Strange bastard. Since Colin had been the one to verify Cara’s alibis at Paradise Found, it had been nearly two months since Todd’s last, very memorable, visit to the club.

He wasn’t exactly looking forward to seeing Niol again.

How the hell had he done it ? Todd wondered. How had the bastard managed to toss me across the room, without seeming to move so much as a finger? That day, when he and his partner had come to interrogate Niol, things had gotten out of control, fast.

One minute, Todd had grabbed the guy’s shoulder. The next, he’d found himself across the room, lying on top of a shattered table.

He’d known there was something odd about Niol from the first moment he met the guy. Every nerve in his body had gone on alert and the hair on his nape had risen.

That fierce awareness happened to him sometimes. Usually, it happened when the shit was about to hit the fan. When a perp was about to pull a gun or when all hell was seconds away from breaking loose.

He liked to think of it as his body’s warning system. A strong instinct. Whatever it was, it had never led him wrong before.

He hadn’t felt that response with Cara—at least, not at first. But when he’d walked into her house and gotten closer to her, all his systems had sent out a flashing alert.

He’d originally thought his gut was telling him the woman was a killer. Now, well, now he wondered if his body was just trying to tell him that the lady was pure danger to his soul.

“What the hell do you want, cop?” The snarl came from one of the bouncers, a guy who’d planted his body squarely in front of Todd’s path.

Smothering a sigh, Todd glanced up, way up. Shit. He knew the tattooed giant in front of him. The asshole had been guarding the door the last time he’d paid a visit to Paradise Found. “I want in,” he said simply.

The bouncer laughed at that, a deep rumbling laugh, and he nudged his sidekick, a short, dark, heavily muscled guy whose nostrils were currently flaring as he leaned in close to Todd.

“Not our kind,” the smaller one mumbled.

What the hell? Todd pulled a twenty out of his pocket. Shoved it at the giant jerk. “Open the damn door.”

A smirk. The cash disappeared in a instant. “Yer funeral, cop.”

The doors opened. The scream of a guitar pierced his ears and the rumble of voices danced into the night.

He paused on the threshold. “Your boss in?”

“Your lucky night, man,” from the shorter guy. “Niol’s gone hunting.”

And just what did that mean?

Then he forgot about the question as he caught sight of a woman with long, golden hair.

Cara.

He stepped into Paradise, and heard the crackle of laughter behind him.

The bar was packed. Literally teeming with bodies. Men, women. Most of ’em looked like they were anywhere from twenty to forty years old. Some were huddling in shadows. Some were all but having sex on the dance floor.

As he walked toward the bar, his nostrils twitched as he caught a familiar scent. It was…blood. He’d worked enough crime scenes to know that coppery stench. Where was—

The man to the left of him lifted his head. Blood streamed down his chin. The woman in his arms moaned, turning her head just a fraction. Todd saw the marks on her then. Two deep holes in the side of her neck.

What the fuck?

He reached for his gun. “Get the hell away from her!”

There was a brief murmur at his yell, and one or two people glanced his way, but for the most part, he was ignored—even by the asshole who had attacked the woman.

The woman in question did look at him, though. Her face twisted into a snarl, and her lips lifted to reveal teeth that looked too damn sharp. “Fuck off, human!” she snapped, then grabbed the guy and stormed into the crowd.

“What?” He blinked, not sure what had just happened. No, an assault had occurred, he needed to help her and—

“It’s not what you think,” Cara’s soft, sensuous voice trailed along his nerve endings and cut right through the roar of the bar.

His fingers still gripped the gun. He turned slowly toward her, not sure if he was really ready to face her again, even though he’d come to be bar just to see…her.

Shit . She was even more beautiful than he remembered. Her hair was soft and loose around her shoulders. Her face pale and lovely, like something out of a damn magazine ad. Her lips were a flash of crimson, and he wanted them on his.

She wore a short black dress. A tall pair of black boots. Her legs were bare, too tempting and so damn long.

It was all too easy to imagine grabbing her, lifting her up onto the bar that was less than five feet away, and getting her to wrap those sexy legs around his hips.

And if they weren’t surrounded by a room full of weirdos who apparently got off on biting one another, well, he might just do that.

“Put the gun away,” she ordered quietly. “You’re not in any danger now.”

His eyes narrowed. “That guy attacked the woman.”

“No, they were just having a little foreplay.” She pointed with her index finger.

He glanced across the room. Saw the couple snuggled into a corner, and watched as the woman lifted the man’s wrist to her lips and bit down, hard.