Синтия Иден - Eternal Hunter

Her heart raced, too fast. Was the frantic beat from the dread filling her at the thought of a dead man waiting in what should have been a secure cell?

Or was it from something more?

No.

She shoved open the glass doors. A guard near the front rushed forward. “Ms. Jerome—”

Her thumb jerked toward her hulking shadow. “Keep Donovan up here. I don’t want him anywhere near my crime scene.”

Her sensitive ears picked up the hunter’s swift inhalation and the nearly soundless…“You’ll need me on this one, sweetheart.”

Sweetheart. She slanted him a scathing glance. “Doubt it, hunter. Doubt it.” Then she stalked down the tiled hallway, heading for lockup, and wondering just what sort of sight waited for her.

You don’t want to see the body .

The lady had one fine ass.

Even as anger tightened his body, Jude couldn’t help but admire that beautiful sway.

His nostrils were full of her scent. Woman, roses, and just a hint of rich, wild forest. Yeah, that wildness — that fragrance had slipped into the air when those gorgeous eyes had narrowed and rage coated her voice.

Erin Jerome was so much more than she pretended to be.

The beast within him roared when she got close, and when she got too far away.

“Sorry, man, you heard the orders.” Jamison McGee, a good cop and a good human, frowned at him. “You’re gonna have to stay—”

“It’s all right, James.” Jude rocked back on his heels. He could smell the blood from here. “She’ll be changing her mind.” Because he hadn’t been kidding when he told the pretty ADA that she’d need him.

Jude glanced toward the vinyl chairs near the entrance. “When she comes looking for me, I’ll be waiting.”

Five minutes, ten tops, and he’d wager his ADA would be running her sexy ass right back to him.

Because it seemed that another monster was out hunting. One that had killed right under the noses of the Baton Rouge PD.

Talk about a bold asshole.

Jude almost could admire that. Almost.

The scent of the blood burned her nostrils. Most of her kind liked that smell. She hated it.

Erin straightened her shoulders and strode forward. Four uniformed cops stood just in front of the entrance to the pen. They glanced up at the clicking of her heels. One of them, an older guy with rich coffee skin, graying hair and a strong chin, stepped toward her. “Ms. Jerome, you’d better brace yourself.”

He looked worried. Looked like he thought she was going to pass out after one glance at the stiff.

She really wasn’t the passing out kind of girl.

“Thanks for the warning.” The second one she’d gotten in less than three minutes. But Grant Tyler wasn’t being an ass with his warning. The young cop next to him was stark white and shaking. He looked like he might be doing some fainting at any moment.

Oh, hell . A cop ready to hit the floor was never a good sign.

Erin pointed toward the door. “Show him to me.”

Grant pushed open the door.

The stench nearly made her gag. Then she saw him.

Bobby’s arms had been yanked through the bars, left to hang over the edges of his prison. His wrists had been cut, long, thick slices, and his blood pooled on the floor. His eyes were open, wide, and his face had been slashed. A bloodred smile stretched from one ear to the next.

Positioned. Styled. His body had been arranged for the ultimate shock value.

Erin’s lips pressed together.

“You okay?” Grant whispered.

There was a flash of light as the crime scene guy snapped a photo.

She flinched. “Fine.” No, no, she wasn’t fine. What the hell had happened? Her gaze jerked to the left, then the right. The other cells were empty. Transfer had been made just hours before, and she knew Bobby had been the only prisoner in holding.

She’d planned for him to be the only one there — all the better for the cops to keep an eye on him.

This was so not good.

A killer, murdered while he was surrounded by cops.

Murdered by cops? Her stomach knotted.

Erin turned away from the body. Goosebumps rose on her flesh. “Who was here?”

“I was.” Admitted quietly. “Burns, Grimes, and Hyde.”

Her fingers pressed into her right temple. The blood . “And you didn’t see a thing?” Doubt had her voice rising. No way, no way was that possible.

“We were up front.” His lips tightened. “Didn’t see what happened and didn’t hear a peep.”

Oh, shit. This was a nightmare.

Captain Antonio Young strolled in then. Wearing a perfect suit, not so much as a wrinkle anywhere to be found.

Erin growled at him. He wasn’t on her top ten list. Over the last week, she’d gotten a pretty up close look at the captain, and came away thinking the guy was a bit of a prick. He was secretive, he didn’t share his case files with the rest of the PD, and the guy was given to disappearing for long periods of time. Hardly upfront police behavior.

Erin had no idea how the man had ever been promoted through the ranks.

He must’ve had some serious connections somewhere or else he’d known where some bodies were buried. Maybe he’d helped to bury those bodies.

“Your men have to be cleared.” Her voice was sharp. The captain knew this, and he still had Grant and the others less than ten feet away from the victim. “What the hell are you thinking?”

His dark eyes narrowed. “I don’t need you to tell me how to do my job.”

“Uh, yeah, obviously, you do.” The press would go wild with this story. Wild . “Four cops. One dead perp. You do the math, Young.” Okay, so she sounded like a bitch. Screw the polite chitchat. The man knew better .

Bobby Burrows was dead — not just dead — slaughtered. Aw, hell .

Young’s handsome face — cause, yeah, no denying he was a pretty boy with those elegant planes and hollows on his face — tightened. No sign of his flashing dimple. He glared at her, and she glared right back.

“We didn’t do it.” From Grant. Strong, steady Grant. She’d had a good feeling about the guy from the beginning, from the first moment she’d met him at the courthouse. A real upfront kind of guy.

Now this.

“We’re going to have to prove that,” she said. Not going to be easy.

Another flash of light.

Erin licked her lips and knew what she had to do. “Excuse me.” Much as she hated it…

She was going to have to get close to that body. She spun and headed for the perp. Um, victim now. Her steps slowed as she approached the body. “Give me a minute, Mark,” she said to the crime scene analyst, and he moved back.

Less than a foot away, she stopped. She didn’t touch Bobby or the bars, no way was she going to risk contaminating evidence. But…

But her eyes touched him. Her gaze scanned every inch of him, paying careful attention to the wounds and—

Shit .

Her heart slammed into her chest.

Those weren’t knife wounds. No, she knew the shape of those wounds.

Intimately.

Those slices had been made by claws. She’d seen marks like that too many times in the past.

Her nostrils twitched and she stared at Bobby’s bloody form.

The cops there — the captain, the three men, and the woman — they were human. So were the crime scene guys.

No shifters.

But a shifter had been here. He’d killed.

And she knew there was a shifter close by, one who didn’t mind a little blood and who sure had a hard-on for Bobby.

Jude.

Her steps were very precise as she turned and left the holding area. Once she was clear, her fingers knotted into fists, and she stormed down the hallway, racing back to face the hunter.