Deadly Desire (19 page)

The lobby was all gold drapery and overstuffed, lush-looking furniture. A large mahogany desk dominated the far end of the room. Behind it was a wolf whose skin gleamed a dark amber, and who aptly went by the stage name of Goldenrod. Of course, everyone working here had stage names. Ben's was Shadow.

He leaned back in his chair, and waved a finger at the bottle I was carrying. “And you think that is going to make up for Shadow missing his dinner?”

I grinned and undid a couple of buttons on my shirt, so that the swell of my breasts and the mauve edges of my bra were visible. “How about that?”

“Much better,” he said, voice low and throaty, sending a ripple of delight through me. He pressed a button on his desk, opening the door to his right. “He's in his office.”

“Thanks, Golden.”

“Definitely my pleasure,” he said, then laughed as I worked the hips just a little bit more. “If you ever get tired of the old man, you know where to come and play next.”

My grin grew, but I didn't answer as I walked through the coffee room and into the hallway beyond. Ben looked up as I entered his office, then leaned back in his chair and gave me an insolent grin. “Well, well, look what the dog dragged in.”

I sat on the corner of his desk and tried to ignore all the beautiful black skin his tank top exposed. “I brought wine.”

“What type?”

“Wolf Blass.” It was his favorite, not mine. I was more a Brown Brothers gal.

“I guess I'd better forgive you, then.” He rose, giving me a fuller view of his long, strong body. My nostrils flared as I sucked in the delicious scent of him, and my ever-dizzy hormones sizzled.

“I had to rescue a street kid from a zombie,” I said,
concentrating on opening the bottle rather than on the delicious-looking man walking back from the liquor cabinet. That way lay trouble, and I had enough of that on my plate already—no matter what my hormones might think.

Ben raised a dark eyebrow as he held out the glasses. “Street kids and zombies? The Directorate has branched out.”

I snorted softly. “You have no idea.” I poured the wine, then put the bottle on the table and accepted one of the glasses. “Here's to a quick capture of zombie masters and vampire killers.”

“Now what the hell kind of toast is that?” he said, his grin flashing brightly. “Here's to pretty redheads. May they find their way to my bed sooner rather than later.”

I laughed and touched my glass to his. “Your bed is the last place I need to be right now.”

“Hey, I'm versatile. I can do desks, walls, floors, whatever.”

“Heard that about you.” I took a sip of the tart wine, then said, “Tell me about Man Hard.”

His sigh was dramatic, but the effect was spoiled by the twinkle in his bright eyes. “There's no such place as Man Hard. There is, however, a
Mein
hardt's. Different pronunciation, emphasis on the front half of the word.”

“If they wanted it pronounced properly, they should have gone for an easier name.”

“True.” He walked around the desk and sat back down. “It's only been around for about six months, but it's doing reasonable business, from what I hear.”

“So who runs it?”

“Are you sure I can't seduce you?”

“Positive. But I will treat you to a very nice dinner later in the week to make up for my no-show tonight.”

“Excellent.” The twinkle in his bright eyes became one of anticipation. Meaning the seduction attempts would continue full force during that dinner. And while I didn't have any immediate intention of giving in to the desire that swirled between us, part of me wondered how wise it was to keep throwing temptation in my path like this. He took a sip of wine, then added, “A guy named Brad Herrott manages the place on a day-to-day basis.”

“But he's not the owner?”

“No. Two women apparently own the place, but I can't tell you a whole lot about them.”

“Why not? Surely there has to be some scuttlebutt about them. Everyone gossips in the sex industry, don't they?”

He laughed. “Not as much as people think. It's an industry that does need to keep its secrets.”

“So you've never seen the owners?”

“No.”

“What about the club itself?”

He raised an eyebrow. “What about it?”

“Is it just a strip club, or do they also do sex?”

“They don't go as far as sex,” he said, a smile twitching his lush lips. “The question is, do you?”

“I do sex. I just won't do it with you.”

“Yet,” he added, smile growing.

I raised my glass in acknowledgment, then said, “If
you do hear anything unusual about the club, you'll give me a call?”

“Information like that has its price, you know.”

I downed the remainder of my wine, then gave him a cheeky grin. “Anything but sex.”

His expression reminded me very much of a cat that had just found the cream. “Oh, there's a
whole
lot we can do that doesn't involve actual sex, you know.”

“Oh, I
do
know.” And part of me wanted to dive right in there and test some of those things out. I stood up instead. “But it won't make any difference to my resolve.”

“We'll see about that.”

We would. And right now, I wasn't placing any bets on who just might win this little battle. “I'll contact you later in the week about our dinner date.”

“I'll be looking forward to it.”

His expression just about smoked my insides. I turned around and got the hell out of there while I still had my pants on.

Once back in the car, I picked up the phone and rang Quinn. With the moon almost full and lust burning through my body, it wouldn't have been wise to go anywhere else but straight into the arms of my vampire. It was simply too much of a risk to attempt any further investigations tonight. I'd already experienced blood lust once in my life, and even though I couldn't entirely remember everything that had happened, the scars on Quinn's arms were reminder enough that it wasn't a place I wanted to go again.

“Hey, sexy,” he said, his mellow tones sending heat
flashing through my body. “How do you feel about a midnight picnic?”

“As long as there's sex and coffee involved, you can count me in.”

“Then meet me at the zoo in twenty minutes.”

“The zoo is closed.”

“There's no such thing as closed when you have lots of money. Oh, and be naked.”

I laughed, the sound thick with anticipation. “Only if you are, vampire.”

“That's hardly practical when I have to pay our entrance fee.”

“So why make me be naked?”

“Because I intend to cover your nakedness with chocolate before we go in, and then I intend to lick every single inch of it off you again.”

The thought had me fanning myself. “Chocolate is a food. Food and vamps don't mix.”

“This is a special chocolate designed for vampires.”

Meaning I probably wouldn't want to know the actual ingredients. “I'll be there in eighteen minutes.”

“Don't be late.”

I wasn't.

And the picnic was everything my wolf soul could have wanted, and then some.

ell,” Kade said, leaning back in his chair and giving me a knowing grin as I walked into the room the following morning. “Here's a wolf who looks very satisfied with life.”

“Completely satisfied.” I held up a cup and raised an eyebrow in question.

“What, we're drinking machine muck rather than the divine liquid from Beans?”

“Beans was packed to the rafters with Directorate personnel wanting the decent stuff. We'll have to time our coffee runs better.” I poured two mugs then headed over to his desk.

“I won't be a happy little horse if I have to go back to drinking muck.”

“There's nothing little about you, my friend. I know this for a fact.”

He grinned. “So you do.”

I handed him a mug. He took a sip, then grimaced. “Definitely going to have to get the timing right.”

“What's been happening here?”

He snorted. “The cross-checking of the emo list continues. We can't find backgrounds on four of them.”

I frowned. “What do you mean, you can't find their backgrounds?”

“Just that. No birth certificates, no death certificates, no rebirth notices. They don't exist, according to the paperwork.”

“Well, paperwork has been known to be wrong.” I walked over to my desk and sat down. “Where's Iktar?”

“Got the day off. Some family gathering.” Kade shrugged. “How's the murder investigation going?”

“That's the question I was about to ask,” Jack said as he walked into the room. He was holding one of Beans's thick-ribbed cups in one hand, and the rich
scent of mocha coffee permeated the room, making my coffee smell even fouler.

I ignored his question and asked, “Have the magi handed in their report from the warehouse yet?”

He propped on the edge of Iktar's desk and crossed his legs. He looked casual—if you ignored the tension riding his shoulders or the anger lurking in his green eyes. “Not that I'm aware of. Why?”

“Because the woman behind the zombies tried to kill a friend of our second zombie victim last night—and I suspect she's been tracking them all through a magic-infused business card. I left one with the dead zombie last night for Marg to pick up.”

“Did the card feel similar to the magic you sensed at the vampire murders?”

I hesitated, then shook my head. “Although it has a dark edge to it, it doesn't have the same traits as the one at the vamp scenes.”

“Magic doesn't have personal traits, like scents do.”

“Maybe not to someone without a keen nose, but trust me, there's differences.”

“So we have two rogue practitioners on the loose.” He took another sip of coffee, then added, “You don't think there's a connection?”

“Between the vamp killings and the teenage girls? Hell, I don't know.” It didn't seem logical at this point, but stranger things had certainly happened. I leaned back in my chair. “But I do think there could be connections between these two women, and that would mean the cases might be, as well. What are the chances
of two dark sorcerers being active at the same time in the same city?”

“It has happened, but it isn't a common event. Sorcerers, unlike witches, tend to have their territories, and they don't like rivals intruding.”

“Then maybe we need to source out Melbourne's witches, and see what they know about the new dark powers on the block.”

“Our magi are already onto that. So far, there's been nothing.”

“There has to be
something.
I mean, aren't there ley lines crisscrossing the city, from which magi draw their strength? Surely they should feel if someone new was dabbling.”

“This is more than dabbling,” Jack said with a smile. “But remember, most sorcerers draw from blood or personal magic. They do not use the earth energy, as most witches do.”

“Witches don't only draw from the earth, though.”

“No, many use white magic, which also draws on personal strength. It depends on the strength of spell required. Earth magic is a wild thing, and not every witch has the capability to control it.”

“Do any of our witches?” I asked, curious.

He took a sip of his coffee, then nodded. “I'll roust our magi for their reports and see if they confirm what you suspect about the business card. What do you plan to do next?”

“I'm going out to talk to the parents of the other victims, just to see if any of them know what sort of work their kids had been involved in before their death.”

He nodded. “Did Shore's girlfriend provide any useful information?”

“She said he was a regular visitor to strip joints, and liked bringing the dancers home. The last one he took home was from Meinhardt's.”

“Both Armel and Garrison were regulars there, too.” He glanced across at Kade. “You feel like a little investigative trip tonight?”

Kade grinned. “Boss, anything is better than sitting behind this goddamn desk chasing names that don't exist.”

“Just remember you're there to get information about our victims, not just ogle the scenery.”

“I'm versatile. I can do both.”

Jack harrumphed—a sound of disbelief if ever I'd heard one—then glanced at me. “Anything else?”

I shook my head. “Ben said Meinhardt's opened about six months ago, but he couldn't tell me who the owners are. I'm going to do a search through business registrations to get names, then do a background check.”

“Let me know if you find anything,” he said, then uncrossed his legs and walked out.

I went through the eye scan and signed into my computer, then pulled up the records for the last two zombie victims. I jotted down their addresses and the names of their parents, then I retreated to the search function and typed in Meinhardt's. As the cursor began to blink, I glanced at Kade, who was still grinning like a Cheshire cat.

“And what is Sable going to think about you going
off to some strip joint while she stays home and minds the baby?”

“It's work, so she has no say. Besides, minding babies is a woman's business.”

I snorted. “I bet you don't say
that
within earshot of her.”

“I enjoy sex too much to ever say that within earshot of her, trust me on that. It doesn't counter the truth, though.”

“You are such a sexist at times.”