Keri Arthur - Lifemate Connections - Eryn

The wind was blowing a gale and the night was not only bitter, but wet as well. Eryn swiped at the water dripping off her nose and fleetingly wished she hadn't agreed to this assignment. She would much rather be home, curled up in front of a blazing fire, book and coffee in hand, than standing here in the pouring rain, waiting for a go ahead.

She shoved her freezing hands into her pockets and studied the building opposite. It was nothing out of the ordinary—just a plain brown-brick warehouse that had recently been converted into a bar. When originally built, the warehouse had sat on the edge of what had been one of the trendiest areas of town, but now, thanks to falling population numbers, it was well outside city limits.

The old fashioned lantern lights on either side of the bar's red metal doors cast warm shadows across the wet night, and through the semi-fogged windows that lined the front of the old building, people were visible, laughing, dancing, and generally having a good time. She'd be warm enough once she got inside.

If she ever got inside.

She raised a hand, lightly touching the silver stud in her left ear. "I'm freezing my butt off here, Jack. Are the suspects inside or not?"

"One is." The deep voice practically blasted into her right ear. "We're checking for the rest."

She winced and twisted the stud, adjusting the volume.

"Which one is in?"

"Gray eyes."

Eryn half smiled. They'd taken to calling him that simply because the man seemed to have at least five names, and none of them actually existed beyond a driver's license and a passport. There was some suspicion he might be military or covert operations, but there was little in the way of help or information currently coming from those two areas.

"Harrison and Gantry nowhere in sight?"

"Not yet."

A droplet of water slid past the collar of her coat and down her neck. She shivered. "I'm going to look like a drowned mutt soon if we don't get moving."

"Darlin', even drowned you'd look damn delicious."

"Gee, thanks," she said dryly. "But compliments aren't going to get you into my pants."

"Can't blame an old man for trying."

Eryn snorted softly. With men now outnumbering women ten to one—thanks to the stupid one-child-per-family rule governments the world over had introduced generations ago in an effort to control population growth—trying was a good word to describe the whole male-female relationship experience. That rule no longer existed, thank God, but the damage had been done already. The only good thing about the out-of-kilter balance was that women could now pick and choose as they pleased, and female promiscuity was no longer frowned upon. In fact, it was positively encouraged.

There were even some sectors of the government who were currently trying to pass a law that women could not settle down with one particular man unless they'd had at least fifteen previous partners.

Talk about men being afraid of never getting their end in, she thought grimly.

This bar, LifeMate Connections, and others like it, were one of the recent solutions for those men and women who actually wanted to settle down and have a family. The three-story building was not only a bar, but a hotel, with monitored bedrooms and security close by. Women could "test drive" the various offers without having to risk taking strangers home.

And, thanks to the strict medical checks everyone underwent on joining, they also knew all the men inside were not only free of disease, but extremely fertile, which was important in an age of declining fertility. Once a woman had found a man she thought might make a suitable mate, she could then explore the relationship beyond the secure realms of the bar.

Only that decision had recently ended up getting five women killed.

The task force had been formed as soon as it became clear they had a serial killer on the loose, and had the brief to "do anything necessary" to catch the killer. Eryn hadn't been involved in early investigations, which wasn't a surprise since she was a medical secretary at the coroner's office, not an investigator. She was only here now because she was a shifter with a keen sense of smell. The murderer left few clues, and they needed someone with a hound's nose to sort through the scents in the victims' apartments and pick out the ones that didn't seem to belong. It wasn't the first time she'd been asked to do this, and it probably wouldn't be the last. And as long as she wasn't expected to go in when the scent of death was fresh and ripe, she was fine with it. At least it was a change from boring office duties.

But the only aroma she'd been able to pick up in all five apartments was an odd one—a springtime, blossomy sort of smell that seemed more suitable for a female than a male.

Maybe their killer was bisexual, though from all accounts, neither Harrison nor Gantry were.

But the other reason she'd been selected was because she was in her late twenties, with brown-black hair and green eyes. Just the type the killer seemed to prefer.

Of course, despite the "do anything" brief, they couldn't actually force her to become a decoy. Nor could they actually demand that she go into the club and flirt with men who might well be murderers. Especially when everyone knew that flirting might not be all she had to do.

So, they'd outlined their plan and given her the option to "volunteer." Which she had, all too readily. Besides the fact that she trusted her instincts and her nose to keep her out of a murderer's bed, this was a once in a lifetime opportunity to experience what went on in the LifeMate bars without actually having to pay for it. You had to be a member to get into them, and membership was expensive. More than she could currently afford, anyway, even with the female discount.

Though, like most women, she was saving for that moment in the future when she decided to settle down and have a kid.

She shifted her weight from one foot to another, then said, "Are we going or not? I've been standing here for over five minutes. If anyone happens to be watching, that's going to appear more than a little suspicious."

"The go ahead just came through, even though gray eyes is still the only suspect there. Remember to keep the mike open."

"You're just a bunch of dirty old men who want to get their rocks off if I happen to get laid."

And once she'd sniffed out gray eyes, that was certainly the plan. Hell, she'd been celibate for so long she was beginning to think there was something wrong with her. The fact that most of the people she worked with were boring old scientists didn't help. Add to that the long hours she'd been working of late, and you had long term frustration. Hell, these last few days had been the first time in six months she'd come within touching distance of decent looking men—and she couldn't play with them because of the department's rule of no fraternizing. A rule she wasn't about to break, because even if the people she worked with were boring, the job itself paid well, and she wasn't inundated with a whirlwind of different scents everyday. A coroner's office might not be the best place for a shifter with a keen nose to work, but it was a hell of a lot easier to deal with than an office building filled with scent-wearing humans. Now, that was hard to cope with.

So, once she'd given gray eyes the metaphorical thumbs up or thumbs down, she was going to see what offers came her way and take a few of them for a test run. The powers that be could hardly complain when that's exactly what they put her in there for. And she could always argue that she was merely ensuring her cover stayed intact.

"Listening and watching other people having sex is the only joy we old men get these days," Jack replied dryly.