Dead Sexy. Amanda Ashley
Читать онлайн книгу.
Reggie.”
Regan looked away from the body and into the deep gray eyes of Sergeant Michael Flynn. Flynn was a good cop, honest, hardworking, and straightforward, a rarity in this day and age. He was a handsome man in his mid-thirties, with a shock of dark red hair and a dimple in his left cheek. She had gone out on a number of dates with Mike in the last few months. He was fun to be with and she enjoyed his company. She knew Mike was eager to take their relationship to the next level, but she wasn’t ready for that, not yet. She cared for him. She admired him. She loved him, but she wasn’t in love with him. It was because he was the best friend she had in the city that she didn’t want to complicate their friendship, or worse, jeopardize it, by going to bed with him. She had seen it happen all too often, a perfectly good friendship ruined when two people decided to sleep together.
“So,” Flynn said, “definitely a vampire kill, right?”
“Looks that way,” Regan agreed, but she wasn’t sure. She had seen vampire kills before. The complete lack of blood pointed to a vampire, but the fact that the victim’s heart, throat, and liver had been ripped out disturbed her. She had never known a vampire to take anything but blood from its prey.
“So, you about through here?” Flynn asked.
“What? Oh, sure.” She wasn’t a cop and she had no real authority on the scene, but in the past, whenever the department received a call about a suspected vampire killing, they had asked her to come out and take a look. She had been a vampire hunter in those days, and a darn good one, but that had been back in the good old days, before vampires became “protected” and put her out of a job. Fortunately, she had a tidy little inheritance from her grandfather, though it wouldn’t last much longer if she didn’t find another job soon.
“I’ll call you next week,” Flynn said with a wink.
Regan nodded, then moved away from the scene so the forensic boys could get to work. It gave her an edgy feeling, being in the park after the sun went down, though she supposed there were enough cops in the area to keep her reasonably safe from the monsters. At any rate, it felt good to be part of a criminal investigation again, good to feel needed. Still, she couldn’t help feeling guilty that she would be out of work in a heartbeat as soon as they caught the killer.
She remembered the first time the department had requested her expertise. Even now, years later, the thought made her wince with embarrassment. After all the classes she had taken at the Police Academy, she had been convinced she was prepared for anything, but no amount of training could have prepared her for the reality of seeing that first fresh vampire kill. At the Academy, the bodies had been dummies and, while they had been realistic, they hadn’t come close to the real thing. Regan had turned away and covered her mouth, trying in vain to keep her dinner down. It had been Michael who had come to her aid, who had offered her a handkerchief and assured her that it happened to everyone sooner or later. They had been friends from that night forward.
Now, she stood in the shadows, watching two men wearing masks and gloves slip the body into a black plastic bag for the trip to the morgue while the forensic team tagged and bagged possible evidence from the scene. Maybe they would get lucky downtown, but she didn’t think so. She had a hunch that whoever had perpetrated the crime knew exactly what he was doing and that whatever evidence he had left behind, if any, would be useless.
Regan watched the ambulance pull away from the curb. Once the body had been thoroughly examined, the medical examiner would take the necessary steps to ensure that the corpse didn’t rise as a new vampire tomorrow night. She didn’t envy him the job, but if there was one thing the city didn’t need, it was another vampire.
Regan was jotting down a few notes when she felt a shiver run down her spine. Not the “gee, it’s cold outside” kind of shiver but the “you’d better be careful, there’s a monster close by” kind.
Making a slow turn, she peered into the darkness as every instinct for self-preservation that she possessed screamed a warning.
If he hadn’t moved, she never would have seen him.
He emerged from the shadowy darkness on cat-silent feet. “Do not be afraid,” he said. “I mean you no harm.”
His voice was like thick molasses covered in dark chocolate, so deep and sinfully rich, she could feel herself gaining weight just listening to him speak.
“Right.” She slipped her hand into the pocket of her jacket, her fingers curling around the trigger of a snub-nosed pistol. She never left home without it. The gun was loaded with five silver bullets that had been dipped in holy water. The hammer rested on an empty chamber. “That’s why you’re sneaking up on me.”
The corner of his sensual mouth lifted in a lazy half-smile. “If I wanted you dead, my lovely one, you would be dead.”
Regan believed him. He spoke with the kind of calm assurance that left no room for doubt.
Joaquin Santiago moved toward her like a sleek black panther on the trail of fresh game. Supernatural power radiated from him like heat from a blast furnace. He was tall and well-muscled, with broad shoulders, strong arms, and long, long legs. In movies, vampires were usually depicted as pale and gaunt, with stringy hair and long fingernails, but there was nothing pale or gaunt about Santiago. His dusky skin and the contours of his face proudly proclaimed his Spanish and Native America heritage. He wore snug black trousers, a black silk shirt, a long black coat reminiscent of the kind cowboys had worn in the Old West, and a pair of supple black leather boots.
He looked like the angel of death come to call.
Regan took a deep breath. “Do you know who killed that man?” she asked, pleased when her voice didn’t tremble. Even though she had never met Joaquin Santiago before tonight, she knew who he was. He wasn’t your garden-variety vampire. Before the local Undead had been confined to You Bet Your Life Park, Santiago had been the undisputed master of the city, feared by vampires and humans alike. In person, he more than lived up to the hype that surrounded him.
“No.” His answer was clipped and final.
“Well, somebody killed him, and all the outward signs point to one of your kind.”
“My kind?” He lifted one black brow in an elegant gesture of disdain. “What kind would that be?”
Regan laughed. “A vampire, of course.”
He shook his head. “Our kills are not so…” His gaze lingered briefly on her throat. “Messy.”
She looked up at him, careful not to meet his eyes—dark blue eyes that were vibrant and direct and glowed faintly, even in the dark. Eyes that could hypnotize with a glance.
She lifted her chin a notch. “I don’t know anyone else around here who would kill a man and drink him dry, do you?”
A muscle throbbed in Joaquin Santiago’s jaw.
Score one for me, Regan thought with an inner smile of satisfaction.
She tried not to stare at him, but it was difficult. He was easily the most handsome individual, man or vampire, she had ever seen. Of course, all vampires, male and female, seemed to be beautiful. It was part of their preternatural allure, but she was willing to bet that this man had been drop-dead gorgeous even before the Dark Trick had been worked upon him. Though he looked to be in his early thirties, she knew he was an old vampire, perhaps ancient. Only the old ones possessed that eerie stillness.
“This is the fourth death in the last three weeks,” he remarked.
“The fourth?” She hadn’t been aware there had been others.
He nodded, once, curtly.
“Were the police notified?”
“No.”
“No?” she exclaimed, her voice rising with her temper. “Why not?”
“We do not need any more bad publicity.”
“Publicity? Three people were killed