Conquer the Highland Beast: The Vampire Dylan Macgregor (Hearts of Darkness) (4 page)

Anger in the air

Caitlin stepped out of the car at the scene and immediately sensed someone watching her. Chills ran up her spine. When she didn’t pick up anything after doing a three-sixty inspection of the area, she dismissed her concern.

Just someone walking on my grave.

Nevertheless, the notion made her think twice about where she stepped on the way to the area the local police had taped off around the victim. As she approached Senior Agent Arthur Murtaugh, he reviewed his instructions. Her impression of him was that he was humoring her. She figured her mere presence was an objectionable affront he was being forced to endure by the powers that be. So far, he’d treated her like a freak, attempting to isolate her from the other members of the team, since she’d arrived. She’d be damned if this good ole boy thought he could maneuver her outside the investigation.

Been there—
done that.

Well, s
he’d learned how to fight back against a system that didn’t believe in her abilities. Not only did her qualifications exceed Murtaugh’s to lead this team, as far as Caitlin was concerned, he’d been in charge too long. Her opinion was confirmed once the FBI crime scene investigators arrived, they all milled around like a bunch of ants scattered over a picnic lunch. Okay, so the image was a horrible description of the investigation team as they hovered over the dead man who lay torn apart on top of a grave in the middle of the dark cemetery, but it was all that came to mind when she saw the way they worked—all busy, in, out. After a short while, they worked less diligently, joking instead of photographing, BS’ing instead of bagging, etcetera. Delavega appeared to be distracting them.

“Ah, you go ahead and do what you…do,” Arthur mumbled, cu
tting in front of her. “I’ll work with the rest of the team. We can handle the crime scene evidence while you do…whatever.”

“I know how to work a murder scene, Murtaugh. I rate my love for the investigation only second to my highly honed profiling skills and my psychic abilities, otherwise I’d have taken the promotion they offered me at headquarters.”
She’d passed it up to work on this case.

His eyes flashed with animosity.

Whoa, that hit home.
When she saw his reaction, she unblocked her mind.
Oh, shit, he applied for the position I turned down.

Murtaugh straightened his tie and squirmed under her scrutiny. “No offense intended, agent.”

Oh, the fool thinks I’m reading his mind.
Really! As if…well if he wasn’t projecting all his thoughts so loudly, I wouldn’t have to block them.

Let him squirm.
Why would she bother? Not much of a challenge. She’d dealt with his type before—all self-important, self-centered, self-deprecating. He was all about what benefitted Arthur Murtaugh.

Laughing in his face was out of the question, so she held the giggles inside as she walked in Ramon’s direction, systematically dismissing Arthur and his self-importance.

Delavega, the NOPD detective was a good cop. Him she respected. She also noted he was the only local cop remaining.
Strange?
She wondered about his consultant. Where was he? She’d sensed his presence as soon as she’d stepped out of the vehicle, but she didn’t see him anywhere.

Even when she wasn’t fishing around inside someone’s head, Caitlin could usually get a sense about a person.
Ramon was different. He had successfully blocked her from his mind when they met, and she still wasn’t able to understand what it was about his thoughts that didn’t line up for her.

However, she was getting a fix on
the crime. Some other sort of memories—like feathers in the breeze, drifted—rising and falling—just out of reach. The tangible sensations she could grasp belonged to two people, one male and the other female. The female emotions were filled with pain, anguish, and frustration. The male’s were anger, aggression, and indignation…then suddenly, Caitlin felt his fear. Icy, mind-blowing fear.

She
squeezed her eyes shut and shivered. She ran her hands up her arms before she wrapped herself in her own embrace. Feelings entered her mind like a cat padding softly into a room and rubbing up against her.

They belonged to Ramon.
Admiration.
He appreciated how she stood up to Murtaugh…and what she’d accomplished.

Attraction.
He thought she was hot. The teasing impression she sensed, forced her to hold back her grin. He was kind of hot himself, but not what she had in mind tonight and he somehow knew that already.

Could it be
the handsome detective was purposely trying to distract her?

She opened her eyes and stared into his gaze. Ramon was
asking her a question she didn’t hear. “Excuse me?” She shook her head, and he repeated the question, “Special Agent, are you okay?”

“Fine. Sorry, I was distracted.
What were you asking?”

He patiently repeated the part she’d missed. “I asked if you
have any idea what they’re looking for over there.” He pointed to two agents who’d moved closer to the stand of trees along the back gate.

She had no
idea, but she had a weird sense about the area. Focusing on them to get her mind back in the game, she shrugged. “Nothing outside the norm. I’m just here to pick up any kind of vibrations left over from the violence that took place.”

The detective appeared
interested. “Are you picking up any kind of vibrations or emotions left over from the crime?”

“
Sorry, just typical things. Anger. What you would expect at a murder scene, especially one as violent as this one.” Caitlin approached the body. “Maybe there’s something else. It’s as if the purpose of the killing was revenge. Payback. But not for the obvious reason. No—it’s not what it looks like.”

“What do you think it looks like, Special Agent—”

“Call me Caitlin, detective—”

“Ramon.”
He smiled and she realized his charm would be irresistible if she wasn’t preoccupied with his friend.

“I
t appears as if a jealous woman was furious. He was alive for that…” She pointed to his chest, then his groin. “It would take a very sick person would do this.”

“
Or a very desperate one? You referring to the way she staked him down, spiked his hands and feet so she could effectively torture him before she chewed him up and spit him out?”

“Torture…right,” she said, contemplating his words while he focused on her face as if
waiting to see a sign of weakness. She refused to respond to his description, but he had a point. “I don’t know what to make of this. The female emotions are strangely impersonal. An execution of sorts? Justifiable homicide?”

“Maybe.” Ramon walked around her and glanced back at the guys working on the body. They almost had the parts bagged. “You know
where they’re taking the body? You people have a special morgue nearby I don’t know about? Or will he be down in ours?”

“
Sorry, I just started with this team. Back in Virginia, we usually use the local morgues or a portable. I haven’t seen a portable so I guess he’s all yours. Why do you ask?”

“Oh, I was just wondering
about reports. That’s all. It’s good to know the coroner when I need information for my records.” He raised a brow at Murtaugh. “You feds aren’t all that forthcoming with info, agent…Caitlin.”

“Wait.”
Something else bothered her. While she was looking around, she felt as if there were eyes on her, but the sensation came from several different directions at once, and she wasn’t sure what to make of it. Then she had the same strange sense she had yesterday when she met with Dylan Macgregor. “Where’s your friend? The psychic I met at the task force meeting?”

Caitlin looked around in all directions, attempting to get a fix on the mental connection
she felt. She sorted through the obvious. The agents, the photographers, and the others in the area. The body was surrounded by shadows, and from another direction—obvious anger and frustration. For a moment, she wasn’t sure if it was actually coming from a person or if it was left over emotions from the crime.

“You mean Macgregor?”

The streetlight highlighted the movement of a man walking towards them from down the street.

“Yes.”
Dylan Macgregor.

“Oh look, I think Mr. Macgregor’s on his way, and he doesn’t look happy.” Ramon grinned, and she would have fallen for his charming, lazy Cajun smile if she hadn’t already picked up the other mental link connected to him just as Ramon’s mind went strangely blank again.
That knowledge made her almost as uncomfortable as sensing Macgregor.

If she had
n’t recognized him by the way he moved, at least she recognized his size and shape. More, she could try to ignore the way he made her feel yesterday, but she had to acknowledge the way she was reacting to him now—even at this distance.

What well-to-do businessman looked so good dressed in
muscle-T’s, Ferragamo loafers, and designer jeans that could have been painted on him? She also couldn’t help noticing they were worn in all the right places. The bulge signified why. Was that a weapon in his faded
button fly’s
or was he as excited about seeing her as she was about seeing him?

This was what she had
n’t been able to do during the quick meeting they’d had yesterday. She’d been too nervous to look at him the way she could now, safely from the shadows.

Chicken
.

Yeah, maybe
. Yet nevertheless, they’d made a connection of sorts. He was. after all, a psychic like her, and when they’d touched, every cell in her body recognized him.

Her examination moved up his torso
—the way she’d craved doing before—finally landing on his eyes. Inside her, a small volcano threatened to erupt. Her heart skipped a beat when she saw his eyes were fixed on her, and saw emotions churning in their emerald depths. Confusion and desire. Anger and lust. Fear.

T
he last one floored her. This was why she wished she could be anywhere else. This man’s presence affected her physically, mentally, and emotionally. This man made her feel things she’d never felt. Yet he successfully blocked the connection to his mind, tested her mental boundaries by reaching into hers, and prevented her from touching his. He wasn’t going to play fair, and she subconsciously knew she was up against an adversary she couldn’t match.

According to the research, the man was the CEO
of a private investigation firm. He did some security gigs, and actively participated in local government. He used his psychic gift to do good deeds. He volunteered in missing children cases, but kept a low profile. Everything she sensed about him was at odds with the way he portrayed himself. A simple police consultant? No, she didn’t think so. He was a dichotomy of brains and brawn beneath the sleek leather neo trench flapping behind him as he strode through the dark street. In the still night, it was as if his presence alone whirled the surrounding air into a frenzy.

For a moment
, she sensed amusement. Then if she didn’t know better, he made a point of blaring his irritation as if attempting to distract her. The man’s thoughts yelled at her.

Damn interruption … fishing … nice dinner … chilled night air … who picks a cemetery …

The day before he’d been in complete control. Now suddenly, he was not. She grew suspicious. It was out of character. He didn’t seem like a loose cannon—so why was he letting it all out now?

S
he picked up bits and pieces of his anger over being called out tonight. He’d had plans and was testy about postponing…
Oh!

Caitlin
stopped reaching for his mind and immediately set up her blocks. No way did she want to see what he had planned for later.

Hard
as it was to believe, apparently the man had been celibate too long, and tonight was the night he’d intended to change the situation.

The idea of satisfying that need for him sent a heated blush to her cheeks, and she
discovered his thoughts became impossible to block.

Going out later with friends filled his th
oughts. Several gorgeous women.

Several?

More than two…at least three.

Anger and
jealousy, her own, stunned her? Why?

Because s
he wanted to be the
one
satisfying him—the
one
he wanted to be with, later.

I
mages of hot sweaty bodies entwined jacked up her temperature, and she felt the heat in her cheeks blossom as she blinked, trying to erase the images from her mind. Physically, he was just so remarkably perfect she found it difficult to let the image go.

This was ridiculous.
She’d never experienced a reaction to anything the way she responded to his presence. Maybe it was because they were both psychics, and she’d never been around a man so enthralling. He was strong, commanding, and independent. From what she’d heard, he used his special gifts for good, was never embarrassed by them, and controlled them and everyone around him.