Busy doing what? Trying to staunch the flow of blood from knife wounds? “Let me in.” No, he didn’t have a warrant, probably couldn’t even get one, but he wasn’t leaving until he talked to Niol.
He no longer even thought for a moment that Cara was a suspect in the Bondage case.
But she could very well be a victim.
God but that dead woman had looked so much like her...
“I’ve got another dead body, one that points to Niol, and unless you want every human cop in Atlanta stationed at this door, twenty-four-seven, you’ll let me inside.”
The bald bastard stared him down. Todd glared right back at him. Finally, the guy cursed and lifted his radio. Then he muttered, “Tell Niol company’s coming.”
He stepped back, clearing the way.
Todd grunted as he brushed by him and the other bouncer, a tall, lanky fellow with beady eyes who glared daggers at him.
Inside, Paradise Found was quiet. Dead quiet. The last time he’d come during the day for a confrontation with Niol, the place had been exactly the same.
Apparently the local ghouls weren’t much for daytime partying.
Now if he could just find that ass—
A door marked ‘PRIVATE’ opened to the left. Niol stepped forward, carefully shutting the door behind him. He quirked a brow as his gaze met Todd’s. “Ah, Detective, I was wondering when I’d be seeing you again. From what my bartender Cameron tells me, you’ve become quite the addict here. But then, your kind tends to get addicted so easily.”
The bastard didn’t look injured. His dark hair was brushed back from his high forehead. His black eyes glinted as he stared at him. “Cameron says that, huh?” Cameron talked too damn much. Todd’s gaze slanted toward the bar. No sign of the punk.
But he wasn’t there for Cameron, anyway. Another fight for another day.
Time to cut through the bullshit. “I’ve got a dead body—”
“Another one?” Niol drawled, breaking across his words. “You boys at the Atlanta PD sure do keep busy.”
“The victim looks a hell of a lot like one of your singers, Cara Maloan.”
Not so much as a flicker of his expression. “Really.”
“Yeah, really.” He clenched his hands. “I’ve got reason,” damn good reason, “to believe the victim managed to injure her attacker before he killed her.”
“He? You’re sure the killer is a man?”
No, he just had the damn strong suspicion that Niol was the killer in question. “This victim called me last night.” Hadn’t been completely proven yet since the woman who could prove the call was stone dead, but lying to Niol wasn’t a crime. It was perfect bait. “Told me that you’d been getting your workers to lie about Cara’s alibis.”
Now Niol frowned and took a few steps away from the closed door. “I haven’t told anyone to lie.”
“Then maybe you used some of that demon bullshit power of yours and made ’em think they were telling the truth.”
Niol tapped his chin. “Finally figured things out, have you, Detective? It certainly took you long enough.”
He hated this asshole.
“But your education is still very much lacking.” Niol sauntered toward the bar. “Demon magic doesn’t generally work on other demons. And my staff here, well, aside from the occasional witch—who, by the way, would be immune to my power, too—well, they’re all pureblood demons.”
As if on cue, Cameron suddenly appeared behind the bar, looking a bit pale as he pushed a dark red liquid toward Niol and a whiskey toward Todd.
“I’m not here to drink,” Todd snapped. Not even 10 A.M. What was with these demons?
Niol took a slow sip from his glass. “No, of course not. Thanks, Cameron.” He glanced at Todd. “You’re here to find out if I’ve got some kind of wounds, right? From the attack?”
“Yes.”
Cameron headed toward the back of the bar, disappeared.
“I don’t think I have to show you anything. I mean, a demon’s body is his own, now, isn’t it?” A taunting smile curved his lips once again. “I think you’re playing out of your league, human. Way out. Perhaps you’d better leave and send the shifter back. At least he’s strong enough to handle all the players in the game.”
Todd’s control snapped. He could still smell that woman’s blood. See Cara’s face. And he wasn’t in the mood to be jerked around by a demon. He lunged at Niol, grabbed him and slammed the guy back against the bar. “Don’t fuck with me!”
“Why? Aren’t you fucking with one of my singers?”
He’d break him apart. He pulled back his fist, ready to wreck Niol’s face and—
“Stop, Todd!”
Cara’s voice.
His head snapped to the left. There she was. Standing just outside the door Niol had exited moments before.
His arm shook with the effort of holding back his punch. “What are you doing here?” He didn’t release Niol and didn’t drop his hand, though part of him was surprised the demon wasn’t using his mojo to send him flying across the room.
Cara glanced down at Niol, then back to him. “I work here, remember?”
“Not today, you don’t.” Wednesdays through Saturdays. He’d confirmed her schedule long ago.
“Um, good memory, cop,” Niol murmured.
Cara’s chin lifted. “I still have to come in and get my check and—talk with Niol about the band.”
And spout lame-ass lies to him.
“Take off your shirt,” he snapped.
Cara blinked. “Uh, Todd—”
“Not you!” She’d damn well better not think of stripping in front of Niol. His fist dropped and his hands clenched the front of Niol’s black shirt. “Him!”
Niol’s eyes—eyes that were just as dark as Cara’s when she dropped the glamour, but lacking the warmth he saw in her stare—narrowed. “Despite what you may have heard, Detective, I really do prefer to be wined first. And I prefer my partners to be female.”
Fucking asshole. “Cut the crap and take off your shirt.”
The scent of sex and lavender floated around him as Cara scrambled to his side. “Niol didn’t kill that woman. He didn’t even know about her until I told him—”
“What?”
“Demon hearing—”
“Another part of your lacking education,” Niol said at the same time.
“It’s much stronger than a human’s. Not shifter strong, of course, but . . .” She shrugged. “I heard everything you said to Niol.”
Hell.
“And I heard everything that woman told you on the phone.”
“I know.” And that part, he did know. Cara had been right beside him when he got the call—even a human would have heard the conversation. “What I don’t understand is why you would have come running to him.” That she had done so made Todd angry.
Furious. Okay, fucking pissed.
She shouldn’t have turned to Niol, she should have turned to him.
“Cara and I go way back.” Niol’s voice held the intimate tone of a lover and it made every muscle in Todd’s body stiffen. “She trusts me.”
The guy didn’t have to say the rest. It was implied. And she doesn’t trust you.
“Take off your damned shirt.” He wasn’t there to find out which of them knew Cara better. He wasn’t there to play the jealous lover, though he sure as hell could have nailed that part.
“Take your hands off me,” Niol snapped, and the mask that he’d been wearing began to crack as shards of anger pierced his words.
Todd stared down at him. Waited one beat, two.
Then he released him. “Your turn. Get the shirt off.”
Niol glared at him. “I don’t have to do a damned thing for you—”
“For me.” Cara touched his arm and the move had Todd biting back a snarl. “Just show him, for me.”
Niol caught her hand. Brought it to his lips and pressed a kiss to her knuckles. “Only for you.” Then he rose, yanked the black T-s
hirt over his head, and exposed a chest that was completely unmarred. He lifted a brow at Todd. “That good enough for you, or do I need to drop my pants, too?”
The phone booth had been small. The blood splatter marks had been high on the glass—so the perp must have been injured in the upper portion of his body.
Not below the waist.
“Not necessary,” he growled.
Niol winked at Cara. “And what about for you, my love?”
“Not necessary,” Todd answered for her.
Cara shook her head, mouth tightening. “Look, stop acting like a jerk. Niol did what you wanted, he’s shown you every courtesy—”
And just how many courtesies had he shown her? “I found a woman’s body less than an hour ago. A woman who looked almost exactly like you.”
She flinched.
“Her body was in a phone booth outside of town. She’d been left there, like some kind of broken doll.”
“The woman who called you—she’s really dead?”
“Yeah, I think it was her.” Odds were damn high that it was.
Her eyes squeezed shut for a moment, then she opened them and said, “You don’t understand what’s happening here, Todd.” She licked her lips. “You’ll think it’s crazy, but I-I believe someone’s trying to set me up for murder.”
Not crazy. “And you came to Niol?”
“He hasn’t told anyone to lie for me! My alibis were good. That woman,” she swallowed, “if-if that’s the one whose body you found, she was lying. And there’s only one reason she’d call like that and lie to a cop.”
“Because she wanted to take Cara down,” Niol said, making no move to put his shirt back on. Instead, he reached for his drink, and took another slow sip. “The vics were all linked to Cara, weren’t they, cop?”
All but the last one. Thomas Monroe—and his murder hadn’t fit the MO.
“So you’ve got these bodies, these men who are all somehow tied to Cara, even if she didn’t know them, and they wind up dead. Men in the peak of health. Dead.” He tapped his fingers on the bar. “And they bear the mark of a sex demon.”
“Succubus,” Todd snapped.
Niol quirked a brow. “Interesting, isn’t it, that all the clerks at the hotels just happened to see a blond woman fitting Cara’s description—”
“How the hell do you know about that?” Todd demanded.
Niol blinked. “You do realize that demons make up a good third of your force, don’t you, Detective?” Another sip of his drink, then, “Where was I? Oh, yes, the clerks all described a woman like Cara, the victims are all killed by the touch of a sex demon, and at one scene, well, damn, you even find Cara’s ID, all nice and neat and just waiting for you.”
Cara’s eyes were on his.
“The killer was shoving her down your throat.” Another sip. “So to speak.”
“It’s true, Todd,” Cara said, her tone fierce. “Someone is setting me up. I can’t prove it yet, but I will, and—”
He grabbed her arm, jerked her toward him. So close. He wanted to kiss her. He wanted to claim her. He wanted to tell Niol to get the hell away from her. Instead, his fingers curled tight around her.
“Todd? I’m being set up, I—”
“Don’t you think I fucking know that by now, baby?” Then, because he couldn’t stand the stark look in her eyes, he kissed her. Deep and hard, and tried not to feel the swirling cold in his gut.
A cold that was instinct, rearing its head.
His succubus was in danger.
And he wasn’t sure if he’d be strong enough to keep her safe.
But he was damn well going to try.
Chapter 13
“I’m really getting sick of this damn police station,” Cara growled as Todd pulled her across the bull pen and toward his desk, a desk that was overflowing with paperwork.
“Tough.” He raised a hand and waved one of the uniforms over to them. “Mark, I need you to watch her.”
Watch her? What the hell was she now? Some kind of dog? Cara set her teeth back.
Mark gave a firm nod.
Todd pushed her toward his chair. “Stay here.”
The man was going to piss her off in about five seconds.
“Detective?” Mark frowned up at him. Probably because he didn’t know if she was a suspect or some poor victim who needed protection.
She was neither, damn it.
“I’ve got to find the captain.” Todd pointed to Cara. “Keep an eye on her. Do not let her leave.”
She gritted, “Todd, this is absolutely unnecessary—” The guy had been in some kind of freak mode ever since they’d left Paradise Found.
“It’s damn well necessary. Consider yourself in protective custody, baby.” He kissed her. Hard. Fast. “Until I can determine what the hell is going on, I’m going to make certain you’re safe.”
And that was why she was currently surrounded by cops. She grabbed his hand. “I can take care of myself.” He sure didn’t seem to be understanding the whole demon part of the equation.
She was a powerful supernatural creature. Not a level-ten, but still strong enough to kick most folks’ asses. The guy had to stop judging her by the surface skin.
“You don’t know what we’re dealing with here.” His voice was pitched low, too low for the young cop to catch. “I don’t know what we’re dealing with, and until we know just who we’re up against, you’re going to be under police protection.”
Hell.
“Now, I’m going to find Colin and the captain, and see if they know more about our Jane Doe.” A hard stare. “Stay here and stay out of trouble.”
His gaze shot to the uniformed cop. “Don’t let her out of your sight, Mark.”
“Sir.”
“And . . . try not to smell her.” Said with a frown.
Mark blinked. “Uh, sir?”
Another hard kiss. Then he pulled away from her and marched across the room.
And left her with the junior policeman for protection.
Cara sighed and closed her eyes.
Then she started trying to figure out who hated her enough to kill.
One name came instantly to mind. Lance Danvers.
But that bastard was dead. Had been for the last seven years.
She’d seen the body. Touched the cold flesh.
Yeah, he was dead.
After all, she’d been the one to arrange his meeting with the devil.
“We got an ID on the victim,” Colin said, pushing a file toward Todd. “Susan Dobbs. Her prints were in the system.”
“That was fast. I mean, it’s been what? Five, six hours since the body was found?”
“This case has the highest priority,” McNeal said. “I expect everything to go fast.”
Duly noted. Todd flipped over the manila folder. Glanced at the black-and-white photo of the woman in her mug shot. “What’d she do?”
“Ms. Dobbs liked to cut men up with knives,” McNeal said, leaning back in his chair with a groan of leather. “Started when she was a kid. Made a habit of the killings for the next fifteen years.”
Killing with a knife. Sure as hell fit for the Monroe murder. But for the others . . . “She’s human, isn’t she?”
“Emily thinks so,” Colin told him.
Todd’s brows snapped together. “Run that by me again.”
McNeal cleared his throat. “The doctor, she’s good at sensing these things.”
Right.
“If Em says the vic’s not Other, she isn’t.” Colin sounded absolutely definite.
Okay, well, that meant... “Susan wouldn’t have been able to kill the other men.”
“Not by herself,” his partner said.
It was the conclusion they all had no choice but to reach. Todd turned his stare onto the captain. “It’s a setup, sir. I don’t know who is doing it, and I don’t know why, but my gut tells me Cara is deliberately being tied to these crimes.”
The captain grunted. “You think the killer was
using the blonde to throw suspicion on Cara?”
“She’s a dead ringer for her.”
“That could just be coincidence,” Colin pointed out.
Todd snorted. Bullshit.
“The woman could’ve been a lure, though,” Colin continued, tapping his chin. “Em said that vamps use them all the time.”
“What?”
Colin stopped his tapping. “A lure. Something nice and flashy to catch the attention of the humans so that they never see the monsters coming until it’s too late.”
“A succubus shouldn’t need a lure.” The wheels in Todd’s head were turning, fast. A succubus was a lure. So why use Susan? Why bring her in unless ... Todd shook his head. “What do we know about Susan Dobb’s personal relationships?”
Colin reached into his pocket and flipped out his notebook. “Her mom’s in jail, her father was never on the scene, and—”
“No, her sexual relationships. Has anyone checked—”
He closed the notebook. “Bryant did.”
Bryant was the newest detective in the department. A quiet guy who’d transferred up from Miami just a few months back.
“Susan liked men—a lot of them.” His brows lifted. “What? Do you want him to get you specifics?”
Todd slanted him a hard look. “Cara said Michael House was straight. That he would have only gone to the hotel with a woman.” A woman who looked a lot like his ex? “Fuck. A succubus shouldn’t need a lure,” he repeated as excitement pumped through him. He might just be figuring this shit out. “A woman wouldn’t need to use Susan, but a man—he sure as hell would.”
Colin whistled. “Susan could’ve brought in the men, tied ’em up with the promise of some wild sex.”
McNeal’s fingers flattened on his desk. “And instead just made them helpless and got them ready for the kill.”
“Yes.” One damn good supposition. “Maybe she tied the guys up because if they’d seen who was really waiting for them, they never would have been into the game.”
“He could have waited in the closet . . .” Colin’s eyes were thoughtful. “Or in one of those small-ass bathrooms.” He spoke the last softly, as if to himself.