Starlaw

Avon, Massachusetts

Copyright © 2014 by Candace Sams.

All rights reserved.

This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission from the publisher; exceptions are made for brief excerpts used in published reviews.

 

Published by

Crimson Romance

an imprint of F+W Media, Inc.

10151 Carver Road, Suite 200

Blue Ash, OH 45242. U.S.A.

www.crimsonromance.com

ISBN 10: 1-4405-8188-6

ISBN 13: 978-1-4405-8188-5

eISBN 10: 1-4405-8189-4

eISBN 13: 978-1-4405-8189-2

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, corporations, institutions, organizations, events, or locales in this novel are either the product of the author's imagination or, if real, used fictitiously. The resemblance of any character to actual persons (living or dead) is entirely coincidental.

Cover art © iStockphoto.com/clearviewstock and 123RF/yeko

For Lee and for anyone who imagines other worlds.

“Christ … it's frickin' eerie out here,” Cory Martinez whispered.

“And colder than it was supposed to be,” Laurel Blake added.

Along with what was normally on their belts, such as side arms, flashlights, extra ammo, and handcuffs, they had special radio equipment that only allowed certain shift members—including the dispatch supervisor—to hear what was going on. Besides all that, she and Cory were dressed in navy-blue jumpsuits with matching PD jackets and baseball caps. They'd added black gloves and combat boots to easily move through the park undergrowth. At the moment, their radios were silent, indicating the undercover detective pretending to be asleep in a clearing was all right so far. He was posing as a homeless man in order catch someone who'd been murdering them and literally draining their blood for the past three weeks.

“So where's the bachelorette party?” Cory asked as he nudged her.

“Why the hell are you asking about that? Pay attention, butt-munch!”

Cory grinned and ignored the reprimand. “Come on. Maria won't tell me.”

“That's because she doesn't want you to know.”

“But you'll tell your partner, right?” Cory prompted as he nudged her several more times.

Laurel pressed her lips together to keep from smiling. “I might be your partner but I'm
her
best friend and the maid of honor. And she asked me to keep my big mouth shut. So chew on that and keep your mind on the job.”

“That's not fair. You guys know where I'm having my bachelor party—”

“That's because there's not a single man at the station who could keep his lips zipped. I swear … when it comes to gossip male cops are worse than any woman I've ever known.”

“Laurel—”

“No! Shut up and pay attention.”

She saw his scowl even in the dim light filtering through the trees.

“She didn't hire those male strippers, did she? You know … the ones who jerk their junk while movin' around in skimpy costumes and letting women stuff twenties down their G-strings?”

She simply smiled back, deciding to let him sweat the answer.

“Oh man … that's not right!” he groused.

“What's not right? The overstuffed G-strings, or a lot of turned-on women having a good time while tossing back enough tequila to go toxic?” she teased.

He moved closer. “Did you say tequila? Maria gets crazy when she drinks tequila. She gets horny as hell and doesn't remember anything—”

“Okay … that's enough information,” Laurel advised as she held up one hand to stop him. “You need to talk to her, not me. And we need to keep our mouths shut …
really
,” she insisted as she pulled the collar of her jacket higher.

They sat in mutual silence for another fifteen minutes. Cory finally broke it again with more commiserations concerning his upcoming nuptials.

“I hate the invitations. They suck.”

“Then why didn't you help her pick 'em out?”

“I did. Her mother overrode my opinion. She wanted red roses all over everything. I can't stand red roses.”

Laurel finally turned to look at him. “What in hell did you choose?”

He grinned. “Daisies.”

She pressed her lips together. “In all the years we've known each other … I've never thought of you as a daisy kind of guy.”

“Everybody does roses. I read in
Weddings
Today
magazine that it's the most used flower in the world where weddings are concerned. I wanted something bright. Something uncommon. Something yellow and ‘camera friendly in darkened churches,' like the magazine says.”

“Which is why your wedding colors are burgundy and black,” she responded while shaking her head in mirth.

The idea of Cory perusing a wedding magazine was too much. But he was all about marrying the girl he'd loved since high school. In the end it wouldn't matter
how
he got Maria down the aisle as long as he got her there.

“My future mother-in-law took every opinion I had and tossed it right in the crapper, like my ideas don't matter.” He snorted in derision then let out a few curses in Spanish. “She and I are gonna have a long talk after the wedding. There's not gonna be any of that shit where she tells us how to live our lives, what to name our kids, and how to decorate our house.”

“Says the man who likes daisies.”

“Excuse me … daisies symbolize love, patience, purity, and simplicity. They're perfect for weddings,” he insisted.

A scrambled message over their earpieces made them both sit up at the same time.

“Did you make that out?” he asked as he gently tapped his earpiece.

“Say again,” Laurel requested as she keyed the microphone hanging from her jacket epaulet.

There was no sound.

Cory made a second attempt. “210 Adam from 115 King … say again … over.”

“
For the love of God … help.
”

Laurel and Cory stared at each other when the clear but panic-stricken voice of one of their comrades sounded through their earpieces.

Without waiting one second longer, Laurel relayed their need for backup as she stood and ran to their comrade's aid.

As she bolted forward, she put her hand on her weapon and mentally plotted the shortest distance between their spot and the assigned location of the caller.

Cory pounded through the brush behind her. She knew he had her back as she picked up the pace.

Through her earpiece, she heard orders being issued from the nearest officers including the dispatch supervisor. It didn't matter if the perp heard them coming now. If a cop was in need, scaring away an attacker might save a life.

Tonight's assignment should have been simple.

Moments later they crashed through the undergrowth into a nearby clearing.

Laurel stopped in her tracks as she saw a tall figure straighten. He'd been bending over someone lying on the ground.

The light wasn't that good but she knew damned well the man in the dirt was one of
theirs
. The old, patched clothing was the same as what he'd been wearing when tonight's assignment had been issued.

She pulled her weapon at the same time Cory did. Despite the cold of the night and the breeze blowing through the trees, sweat broke out on her forehead.

“Police! Put your hands on your head. Interlace your fingers and don't move,” she loudly ordered as Cory repeated the message in Spanish.

The language repetition was something they did any time there was a chance for misunderstanding. It wasn't required by standard operating procedure, but it'd saved them a lot of trouble on numerous occasions. She simply waited to see if the man in front of them would comply whether he understood in English
or
Spanish. Her concern was less for his safety, more about the downed cop's injuries.

When the stranger slowly did as she ordered while turning toward them, Cory switched on his flashlight. Laurel gasped and felt her pounding heart lurch. Both of them backed away as Cory spit out a low, feral curse.

The illuminated figure before them was the most grotesque thing she'd ever seen. As Cory's flashlight kept their suspect clearly visible, the man gazing at them then presented a fanged grin. Blood dripped from his mouth as if he'd just cannibalized something. His face bore an unholy resemblance to a movie vampire. His body and even his skull seemed emaciated beyond explanation. There was no reason for how anyone could survive and look so horribly gaunt. His angular face personified evil. There was a wickedly hollow gleam spilling from his eyes. But if the man was insane and an escapee from some facility, he was at least cogent enough to know he'd be shot if he moved. He glared back at her and her blood almost ran cold. The savagery in his expression was palpable and the long, leather-looking duster he wore augmented his thin, tall appearance. Her brain reasoned he couldn't possibly look as bad in daylight.

From the full moon now gleaming through the clearing as clouds moved away, as well as the glow from the flashlight Cory held, their suspect's appearance looked damned hideous.

Cory slowly moved forward. “Watch this son-of-a-bitch!” he commanded. “I've gotta check Mac.”

Laurel swallowed hard and tried not to gaze right in their suspect's eyes. Her training made her pivot to keep Cory out of her line of fire. That same training kept her rooted to the spot when her gut told her to run away.

“All right … Batman … or whoever the hell you are … if you move, one of us is gonna put a hole in you as big as a fuckin' house!” Cory tersely promised as he carefully moved toward the downed undercover officer.

Laurel noted there was no repetition in any second language this time. As with her, Cory's concern was for the undercover cop on the ground, not on the ghastly suspect and certainly not on using proper language when addressing what might very well be their killer.

She was aware of her partner kneeling but she still kept her attention on the monstrosity in front of her. What he was, why he looked the way he did, or whether this was the same murderer they'd been looking for wasn't as important as Mac's safety.

“Christ! He's
dead
. His throat is torn out!”

Other officers burst into the clearing.

Laurel heard them drawing weapons and letting loose a barrage of questions Cory tried to answer. Still, her attention was fixed on the horrible sight of what had to be a nightmare torn from her brain, a man with blood dripping from his jaws and down his pale neck.

He stared back and she actually started to shake. The voices of those around her dimmed as the suspect grinned sickeningly. She heard the rattle of handcuffs.

She and Cory had only been there a few seconds before help arrived but it seemed like hours. Their suspect's hands were still on his head but she saw his gaze shift. Before she could utter the warning instinct pulled from her gut, the corpse-like entity moved and was suddenly no longer there.

Shouts rang out as others tried to train their lights on the man, relocate and then subdue him. She knew it was too late. Terror filled her and almost cut off her air. She lifted the muzzle of her weapon, unable to fire in the ensuing mêlée. Fear she'd strike a comrade made her freeze.