Deadly Desire (27 page)

“I do realize that, Riley. I'm not a novice at this job, you know.”

I grinned at his dry tone. “Sorry, boss. It's late and I'm tired. If you don't need me for anything else, I'm off home.”

“Don't be late for your new job tomorrow night.”

“Like I would.”

He snorted his disbelief—a sound I cut off by flicking off the com-link. I turned and headed back down Dimboola Road, wondering if I had the energy to fly home, or if I should catch a cab.

In the end, flying won, simply because there were no cabs at the rail station and I couldn't be bothered waiting for one to turn up. So I was as close to exhaustion as I'd ever been when I finally fell face-first into my bed.

When I woke many hours later, it was to the scent of roses, coffee, sandalwood, and man. One smell was definitely more alluring than the others, and I forced a bleary eye open. To discover a pale pink rose sitting on the pillow.

I reached out and carefully touched it. It was real,
not a figment of my overtired brain. “Thank you,” I mumbled.

“You're welcome,” said Quinn. “Now sit up so I can feed you some breakfast. Although technically it could be lunch, considering it's well after one in the afternoon.”

I scooted up in the bed and gave him a grin. He looked totally divine in faded denims that emphasized the lean strength of his legs, and a white shirt that was roughly rolled up at the sleeves, showing off his arms and shoulders. His hair, usually so neat, had that mussed, just-out-of-bed look, and when combined with a sexy smile—which he did
so
well—it was just about deadly. Luckily for me, there were no other females around, because he looked so hot I'd definitely be fighting them off.

“So to what do I owe this honor?” I said, reaching for the coffee on the tray.

He pulled it out of the way. “Sorry, kisses first.”

“Oh, if I must,” I muttered crossly, then grinned and caught his face between my hands, kissing him gently. It might not have been as explosive as the kiss I'd shared with Kye last night, but in many ways, it was far, far better.

“Now you have earned the coffee,” he said, dark eyes shining with bedevilment.

I took the cup from the tray and inhaled the scent. Hazelnut. I sighed contentedly and took a sip, then eyed the bacon and eggs still on the tray.

“And what am I going to have to do to get the food?”

“Nothing. For now, anyway.” He grinned as he sat down beside me then put the tray over my lap. “So how was last night?”

“Well, if I ever gave up being a guardian, I could make a ton of money as a dancer at a men's club.”

“That doesn't surprise me.”

He shifted a little so that his legs were touching mine. It felt good in a way that wasn't merely sexual, but more a safe, “right” kind of sensation. Like he and I had been designed to fit together like this.

“I'm actually surprised there's not more wolves in the clubs earning money,” he continued. “Wolves are innately sexy, and most have great bodies.”

“But not great breasts. As a race, we tend to be slender and flat. I'm just the weird exception.”

“Not weird—delicious. And not every man on this planet likes his breasts large.”

“No, but the largest money earners in that club seem to be the more buxom ladies—be they natural or surgically enhanced.”

“It has been my experience over recent years that most males do not care if there
has
been surgical enhancement. It's you women that often sneer.”

“Given the bitching I'd overheard in the changing rooms at the club, that's certainly true.” I put the coffee down and began munching on breakfast. “I found our sorcerers. They own the club.”

“Are you sure both these women are involved in the murders?”

“Pretty much. One of the women is definitely hiring teenagers to sleep with vampires—and I presume, let
the sorceress into the house somehow—and the other is using the zombies and hellhounds to kill the girls.”

“So you're dealing with two sorcerers, hellhounds, and zombies—not a good mix if you ask me. Which is why I got the holy water you asked for.”

“Excellent.” I popped a quick kiss on his cheek, then grabbed some bacon.

“I also acquired a silver knife.”

I raised my eyebrows. He knew silver and I weren't compatible, so it seemed an odd purchase. “Why?”

“Because a silver knife will more easily slice through the hellhound's flesh and bone, making it simpler to decapitate them. I would suggest blinding them with the holy water first, though.”

Blinding any other creature might work, but hellhounds hunted as much by scent as by sight. “So they're as allergic to silver as I am?”

“Most magical creatures have problems with pure silver. It's just more commonly known when it comes to werewolves.”

“So, burn their eyes out, then cut their heads off. Easy stuff,” I added with a wry grin. “Of course, me even holding a silver knife could be problematic.”

“It has a bone handle. You should be able to hold it long enough to use it. When it's not in use, keep it in the sheath supplied. It has a thin lead lining, so I think it should give you enough protection.”

“For an old man, you think pretty well.”

“I'm not too old to teach
you
a thing or two, my pretty young werewolf.”

“You reckon so?” I teased, one eyebrow raised.

He picked up the tray and put it on the floor beside the bed. “Obviously, I'm going to have to prove it.”

“Obviously,” I agreed.

Luckily for me, he did.

y shift at Meinhardt's was again uneventful, and try as I might, I couldn't spot Kye. I had no doubt he was here—every now and again awareness would wash across my skin—but I could never pinpoint the exact location. The man was a will-o'-the-wisp, and obviously had no desire to catch the promised lap dance. Which, while disappointing, actually left me quite relieved. I wasn't entirely sure either of us was strong enough to resist such a close and intimate situation, and neither of us could afford the trouble it would give us if things got out of hand.

I did see Jessica several times through the night, and again I sensed that odd air of desperation about her. It was anger and helplessness and frustration combined, and it was stronger tonight than it had been last night. And I caught her watching me several times, although she watched the other acts, too, so maybe I was just being overly nervous.

I didn't have much luck getting close to the locked and guarded doors, however, and
that
was damned frustrating. The only thing I actually learned over the course of the night was that the cameras monitoring the doors were also infrared, meaning they could pick out a vampire—or even a half vampire—wrapped in
shadows. What lay beyond them had to be vitally important to those running the club.

Of course, it might be something as simple as living quarters or the money-counting and safe areas, but instinct suggested it was something a whole lot more sinister.

After all, the sorcerers had to be performing their magic somewhere, because they weren't likely to want to be setting up new pentagrams every time they had some evil deeds to perform. And I couldn't feel the caress of magic anywhere else in parts of the building I had access to—beyond what I'd felt when Hanna was interviewing me, anyway.

It was close to one by the time I showered, changed into warm clothes—I wasn't about to end up half frozen as I had last night, so this time I'd even brought a jacket with me—and headed out the back entrance. It was Saturday night—well, Sunday morning, technically—and King Street was a whole lot busier than the previous night. This time the heavy beat of music mixed with the raucous sound of men singing off-tune, and their noise overrode the roar of cars passing by this back alleyway.

I shoved my hands into my coat pockets and began to sing softly along with the drunks, my voice no less off-key than the men ahead. Only I wasn't drunk, just tone deaf.

After a few minutes, that odd sense of awareness washed over me again, and I couldn't help smiling. “I was wondering when you were going to come out of hiding, Kye.”

He appeared out of the shadows to my right, and fell in step beside me.

“I thought I'd better, or you might just keep singing.”

“Smart ass.”

“Someone had to tell you. Even the rats were running for their lives.” He glanced at me, eyes glowing like bright embers in the darkness. “So, are you going to arrest me?”

I glanced at him. “What would you do if I did?”

His gaze swept me briefly—a look that was almost impersonal. Almost. “A fight would ensue if you tried, and I'd hate to see bruises marring that luscious body.”

“You're presuming you'd get the chance to land the first punch. Trust me, that won't happen.”

“Maybe. Maybe not.” He shrugged, like it didn't matter.

And really, it didn't, because I had no intention of arresting him or getting involved in a fight with him. Sal might not have come back yet with any deep and dark secrets about this man, but every instinct I had suggested he was dangerous in ways I couldn't even
begin
to imagine. Getting involved with him in
any
way was not on the agenda—unless it was absolutely necessary.

I just wished my wolf could get that particular message.

“You didn't find me tonight,” he commented into the silence.

“I had too many men wanting a dance to spend time finding one lonely little killer.”

Kye's amusement swam around me, warming me in ways I couldn't even explain—and certainly didn't
want
to examine.

“So you looked, but couldn't spot me. Excellent.”

Up ahead, near King Street, something scraped softly against the concrete. It sounded like the nail of a dog or something similar, yet there were no animals of any kind haunting the shadows or scrounging around the overflowing bins. There didn't even appear to be any rats—maybe they
had
fled due to my tone-deaf singing.

“I'll find you tomorrow night,” I said, concentrating more on the surrounding darkness than on what I was saying. “I'm told Sundays tend to be slower, so I'll have more time to play.”

“I'll tip you a hundred if you do find me.”

I glanced at him and shook my head in mock sorrow. “Overconfidence gets them every time.”

“You've got to find me first.”

“I will.”

He smiled a disbelieving sort of smile. “Have you found out what's behind the locked doors yet?”

“Have you?” I countered, my gaze searching the night again, but still finding nothing. And yet my uneasiness was growing.

We swung onto King Street and headed down toward Flinders, as we had last night. This time I had every intention of catching a cab home—my arm muscles were still aching from last night's flight.

“Anyone who gets near those doors, even accidentally, is swiftly thrown out of the club.”

He touched my arm, the contact electric as he pulled me sideways a little. I glanced down, saw the puddle of vomit, and muttered “thanks” before moving free of his grip. But the heat of it still burned my skin regardless.

“I haven't seen the blonde at the club, either,” he said, “Though her scent is quite strong in various rooms.”

“I've seen both of them.” I didn't add where, because I didn't want him storming the offices and possibly warning her and her accomplice that we were onto their hideout.

Again that odd scratching noise whispered across the silence. I frowned and glanced over my shoulder. Nothing and no one followed us, and yet… the shadows didn't seem to be quite so empty anymore.

Something was there, watching us.

Kye stopped abruptly, but his gaze was on the road ahead rather than on the shadows behind us.

“What?” I said, halting beside him.

“Magic,” he said softly.

“Magic?” I frowned, letting my senses roam ahead, feeling for anything out of place. There wasn't anything immediately obvious. Yet the unseen drunks didn't seem to be singing as loudly and an odd sort of tension was rolling through the darkness.

Then the meandering wind brought with it a familiar scent.

Sulfur.

“Oh, fuck.”

“What?” he said, his gaze still ahead, his body alert.

“Hellhounds.”

He glanced at me. “The ones that were at the warehouse with the crow and the zombie?”

“I think so. They've obviously come to finish the job.” And Jessica had obviously suspected me a whole lot more than I'd figured.

I swung my bag around and began picking through the mess of clothes to find the small containers of holy water. I dragged out two and handed one to Kye.

Kye shook the container, then gave me a somewhat dubious look. “Water?”

“Holy water. It burns them like acid and will blind them if it gets in their eyes.”

“You really are a most surprising woman, Riley Jenson.”

His expression was an odd mix of amusement, excitement, and hunger. The hunter was ready for his kill—and I wasn't entirely sure who, exactly, was his prey. Nor was I sure whether the shiver that rolled across my skin was excitement or fear.

“So how do we kill it?” he continued.

“Them,” I corrected, shoving the container into my jeans pocket, which freed up my hands but kept the water within easy grabbing range. “I think there's two—one in front, one behind. And decapitation is the only way we can get rid of them.”