Rachel Lee: Claimed by the Immortal

“We’re going to take a very different look at the crime scene, Caro. Now get in, unless you want to walk home.”

She didn’t need to glance at her watch to know the buses had stopped running by now. She didn’t need to look up and down the darkened streets to realize she didn’t want to walk alone. She had a gun, she was a cop, but it wasn’t ordinary criminals who frightened her now.

She glared at Damien. “You’re very high-handed.”

“Mainly because I don’t have a lot of patience or time. Are you coming or not?”

Muttering inside her own head, she climbed into the car. This wasn’t at all what she had expected.

But what had she expected? Some soothing private investigator who would listen to her, charge her a few hundred dollars and promise to look into it?

Instead, she had gotten a couple of guys who were determined to act right now. According to them, they weren’t even going to charge her. But what did she know about these men, after all, except that Pat had told her to trust Messenger?

Crap.

For the first time she seriously wondered what Pat Matthews had gotten her into. But maybe Pat hadn’t gotten her into anything. Maybe she’d gotten herself into this mess by refusing to shut her mouth.

They had to drive nearly all the way across the city to get to Duchesne, but traffic was light at this late hour on a weeknight and they made decent time.

Caro hardly noticed the speed of their travel. Something kept drawing her attention to Damien, as if he were a magnet and she couldn’t look away. God, he was gorgeous in a medieval sort of way. And she needed him to talk, mainly to distract her from the crime one or both of them were about to commit.

Maybe Malloy had been right: maybe she was losing her mind, even though he hadn’t quite said that. Unfortunately, however, that question was moving to front and center in her own mind. It was not a question she wanted to deal with right now, so she sought distraction.

“So you’re from Germany?”

“Most recently, yes. From Köln, although you probably know it as Cologne. I’ve lived there a long time.”

“How long have you been here?”

“A few months.”

“You speak English incredibly well. No accent.”

He glanced her way with a smile, his golden eyes almost gleaming in the flash from some passing headlights. “I’ve had a long time to practice. A very long time.”

“You said recently. Where did you live before that?”

“A lot of places.”

“What was your most favorite?”

“Ah, that’s a question. Every place has its charms. I certainly enjoyed Persia.”

“Persia? You mean Iran?”

“Persia,” he said firmly. “To me, it’ll always be Persia.”

He didn’t look old enough to have called the country by any other name, she thought, then shrugged away the oddity. Probably something to do with politics.

She turned forward again, tensing as they drew closer to Duchesne. She dreaded going back into that house. And then she felt Damien look at her again, felt the lust as his eyes raked her.

The downside of being psychic. Or maybe the upside, because she now knew what she had to worry about with him. She could feel his attention as surely as she could feel that other thing that had attached to her. Maybe even more strongly.

Just feel flattered, Caro. He wouldn’t try to pull anything. Besides, she knew she was capable of protecting herself against unwanted advances. If he got out of line, she could pin him to the ground in no time flat.

Then she heard him sniff a couple of times. She looked at him reluctantly, reacting again with a strong surge of hormones. She had to get that under control pronto. What the hell was the matter with her?

“You smell something?” she asked.

“You.”

At once she felt her cheeks heat. She hadn’t showered since before going to work that morning, and now she felt embarrassed. “That bad?”

“That good. You smell delightful.”

Apart from a blossoming ball of heat at her center, her only response was to roll down the window and let in the icy night air.

He laughed.

At least he was a good sport, she thought. And quick to get the message.

Figuring that matter was resolved, she focused on the crime they were about to commit.

“You know,” she said, “you could get arrested for this if the police still have the place sealed.”

“No one will know except you.”

That thought didn’t make her any happier. It had been three days since the murders, and the techs were most likely finished, but sometimes they left a place sealed in case their investigation brought something to light that required them to come back. Regardless, she didn’t have any legal right to enter the property now. Her part of the job was done. Oh, she might be able to argue for herself if they were caught, but what about Damien?

Lord, what was she getting herself into? But every time she remembered the way that man had levitated and then been driven right onto those horns, she remained convinced that the police were never going to solve this. Never. And what if this monstrosity killed someone else?

She’d never be able to forgive herself.

So breaking and entering was about to be added to her résumé. Lovely. Not.

Damien parked a few doors down from the house. Apparently he had some smarts to go with the good looks. The street was dark and deserted, and only an occasional house showed any light at all. Together they walked quietly beneath old trees, and Caro checked to be sure her badge was still in her pocket. It would be their only cover if cops questioned their reason for being out here at this hour. In neighborhoods like this, that was often a good question.

The yard was still ringed with police tape, and more of it was slashed across the front door, barring entry.

“If we’re going to do this,” Caro said, “we’d better enter from the back. Although I can’t imagine what you think you’re going to find.”

“Neither can I. Trust me, I’ll know it if I find it.”

That was enigmatic enough to irritate her. But she swallowed her irritation and led the way through a neighbor’s yard to the back of the house. Moonlight added a silvery glow to the night but washed out all color. Reluctantly, she followed Damien under the cordon to the back door. Someone had neglected to tape it. Or possibly someone had already entered. Her nerves tensed, given the possibility that right this moment there might be a burglary in progress. She unsnapped her holster and put her hand on her gun butt.

“There’s no legitimate reason this door shouldn’t be sealed.”

“It seems odd they would have left it off.”

“Someone could be in there now. But if there’s no one, this is still breaking and entering.”

“Then allow me to do the breaking part.” He reached out, gripped the knob and with little effort turned it. The door swung open into yawning darkness.

They could have turned on the lights, but that could draw the attention of any neighbors who were awake. Damien instead reached into the pockets of his overcoat and brought out two small but powerful halogen flashlights. He passed her one.

“I don’t smell anyone in here,” he said. “The house smells empty.”

She was supposed to rely on his sense of smell? Not very likely. She drew her gun and thumbed off the safety. “We’re not going to be able to see much,” she remarked. “Let me go first. If there’s a burglar in here, I’m at least armed.”

He closed the door behind them. “I’m not counting on seeing. Stretch your senses, Caro. You felt that thing. You might feel its leavings. And if you close your eyes for a moment, what you’ll smell is the detritus of the murders and an otherwise empty house.”