Bad Cop (Entangled Covet) (7 page)

Chapter Nine

After they left the office, Ian drove Alice to the crime scene. She spent the short ride too deep in thought to converse with him, and he seemed to be of the same mind. His reaction to her questioning was either extremely well practiced or he genuinely hadn’t been the one to assault Mr. Keeler. But trusting Ian would take a leap of faith she wasn’t ready to make, especially when his actions spoke louder than his charm. To be fair, he wasn’t the only man in the city of Seattle with a bit of brogue.

Campbell and Denton, along with the on-duty CSIs and the medical examiner were meeting them at the new crime scene. She arrived with Ian before the others, courtesy of his black Bentley and maniacal driving. The Seattle PD had secured the scene in the quiet, residential Capitol Hill neighborhood where the body had been found. Ander’s mansion wasn’t far, and didn’t that work wonders for her nerves?

The left of two nearly identical, three-story brownstones on the west side of the street was cordoned off from prying eyes. Typical of Capitol Hill, they were elegant, with small, well-kept yards and arched windows with a round one neatly placed on the third story, but Alice never did appreciate the repetition of suburbia. The small alleyway between buildings didn’t help. It had the ambience of downtown without the skyscrapers. Yuck.

Ian jogged up the stairs and stepped over the taped off area. An officer standing guard stopped him right away, his burly partner only half-attentive as he scrolled through something more interesting on his cell phone.

“Sir, the scene’s secured until investigators arrive.
If you want
, you can wait on the steps.” He indicated the steps by the sidewalk at the end of the walkway fronting the house.

Ian got right up in the officer’s business, nearly chest to…well, shoulders—Ian was a tall man. “If
you
want, you can suck the sweat from my balls.”

The officer clenched his jaw, but to his credit, stood his ground.

“Ian, that’s disgusting.”

“You think so?” He glanced over his shoulder at her and held eye contact, his lips twitching at the corners. A kaleidoscope of steamy images torched her imagination, and the idea of putting her mouth anywhere down there didn’t sound so off-putting. Heat rose in her cheeks, and she became mute.

“Alice! Nice to meet you in person finally.” A portly, ruddy-faced man approached them, his hair peppered a gray that matched his bland suit. He held out a blunt-fingered hand. “Henry Campbell.”

“Nice to meet you, Detective.” She returned his handshake. He had a firm, confident grip and a friendly face. Neither did a thing to ease her distrust.

“Denton isn’t far behind me. Don’t know about them CSI guys. They’re always a day late and a dollar short, but they work fast once they get where they’re going. My opinion? They wait long enough for the doughnuts and coffee to get there first.”

He laughed at his own joke, and her answering smile felt awkward. “Shall we?”

They headed into the old but well-kept brownstone. As tidy as it was, the stale smell meant it had been sitting empty for a while. Then again, there was a
for sale
sign posted at the front corner of the yard. Campbell conveniently handed them booties and gloves for their trek through the house. Good thing she’d worn jeans and tennis shoes, thinking she’d be in her office most of the night.

“Maybe this is unrelated,” Ian said, too low to be aimed at the investigator.

“Yes and Red Bull really does give you wings.” She donned her protective gear. “She’s a newly turned vampire, a fledgling, and she had ID on her. The database said she transformed last night.”

His brow furrowed, and she didn’t miss the fleeting panic that crossed his face. The thought of this being the same killer ate at him like a parasitic virus. Before she could wonder any more at his odd behavior, they were carefully led down a hallway to an enclosed porch at the rear of the house. At first sight of the body, she had no doubt the murders were linked. The woman was laid out exactly as Jeff had been. Same traces of candle wax. They’d find other blood there, too, once they had more light.

Ian glanced up from his inspection of the floor. “Three different blood scents here.”
Hm
. That nose of his sure came in handy. He turned to the officer he’d insulted earlier who followed them in. “It’s fresh, too. Witnesses?”

“Only a neighbor across the street. He called in after seeing light in the windows. Knew the place was supposed to be empty. My partner and I found the body after entering.” The man seemed to have gotten over Ian’s earlier insult. He handed a paper over to Campbell. “Name and address.”

“Thanks. I’ll get his statement before we leave,” Campbell said.

“Hellooooo!” An older woman with heavy wrinkles entered, wrapped in a white jumpsuit like the CDC in the middle of a plague. “Honey, I’m hoooome.”

That was Alice’s signal to clear out. The rest was the detectives’ job, and she’d seen enough anyway. After tugging Ian’s arm, he followed her without much foot-dragging. A small crowd gathered around the line of police tape around the tiny yard, but she largely ignored them. Ian didn’t. He stopped on the steps, his eyes fixed on a gorgeous dark-haired siren in a slinky red dress. She had more skin showing than she had dress. Alice peered back and forth between them.

“Otsana.”

“Killian. You never call anymore.” Otsana’s voice was as sultry as her body. Or so Alice thought until the woman turned toward her, revealing a mottled, maroon scar over the right side of her face. From her temple, it angled to the inner edge of her sculptured eyebrow and then followed the curve of her cheek down to her chin. It didn’t dim the woman’s beauty one watt. “Who’s your date?”

Ian laughed. “I wish.”

Alice tried to pretend she hadn’t heard his comment or the wry, wistful way he’d said it. His personal interest in her shouldn’t sound so damned appealing after knowing him only a few days.

She nodded toward Otsana. “Alice Capshaw. I’m acting Vice Director for the VLO.”

Otsana’s smile went a touch plastic, strained, but she made an affirmative sound, much like a purr. The woman’s dress-matching eyes took in Alice’s appearance with a single, toe-to-head sweep. The jeans and tennis shoes had become an unfortunate fashion choice.

“What happened, love?” Otsana tipped her head toward the front of the house. Her lacquer-nailed fingers smoothed the midnight-blue shirt over Ian’s forearm. He pulled his arm away, and for some reason she wasn’t about to explore, that made Alice’s night.

“You know already,” he said. “Where’ve you been since twilight?”

Otsana raised her scarred eyebrow. “Why, Killian, are you implying something?”

“Not implying at all. Where were you?”

“I was in the middle of a dinner party when I heard the commotion. Would you care to interrogate my guests as well?” The Barbie smile turned smug. Neither version seemed pretty to Alice. Otsana didn’t wait for an answer. “It’s a shame Ander’s not here to see this.”

“Why?” she asked. For once, Otsana addressed her directly.

“Oh, it’s his house, of course, the poor dear,” she said. Alice could have gagged on the dismay overkill. Still, the connection Otsana made sent a tide of guilt rising in her. Maybe she’d been too hard on Ian. Maybe she’d crossed Ander off the suspect list too easily. It couldn’t be a coincidence that Ander had ties to both victims.

“Don’t make me hit a girl, Otsana.” Ian’s irritation made him sound gruff. “Go back to your idea of a party.”

With a gleeful laugh, Otsana glided away through the gathering mass of neighborhood gawkers and media. Speaking of media, Alice needed to escape before she was pegged by one of the vultures.

“Who the hell was that?” she asked. Before he could reply, she urged him toward his Bentley.

He grinned, slowing his step in front of her. “In a hurry, are we?”

She gave him a forceful shove. “
You’re
in a hurry. I’m just being gracious.” She jiggled the locked door handle. A pair of reporters who hadn’t worked their way to the front of the mob eyed them suspiciously. The all too familiar anxiety rose, making her go light-headed and constricting her lungs. “Ian!”

He must have taken pity on her because at last, the door clicked open. Once they were safely away and she could breathe, she grabbed a handful of his shirt.

“Don’t you ever do that to me again.”

He thought that was pretty funny, but he wouldn’t much longer if she gave in to her urge to nut tap him.

“I take it you’re not too fond of the media.” When he glanced at her, his expression sobered. “Sorry.”

“No, you’re not.”

He patted her thigh in a gesture of comfort. “Kind of.”

With the warmth of his touch lingering, she snorted and folded her arms to cover her body’s physical reaction to him. His gaze darted her way several times as he drove. It didn’t escape her notice what her posture did to her breasts. That explained a lot.

Clearing his throat, he shifted in his seat as they waited for a stoplight. “What Otsana said…would you think about… I mean, would you want to go out sometime? With me.” A car honked behind them after the light turned green, but he ignored it, his eyes on hers. “On a date.”

Her heartbeat hammered in her ears, and languid warmth slipped up her spine to curl inside her head. She bit back the dreamy sigh trying to escape. A date. So he liked her, for real, even after she’d given him lip for his methods. Even though she’d chastised him more than once—as if a man with an ego his size couldn’t take it. Except for her loudmouthed left brain, every other part of her wanted to say, “yes.” Fortunately, her brain had enough sense to take command.

“I don’t date cops, Ian.”

His sexy mouth tightened as he hit the gas and headed the last few blocks to her building. “Right.”

He said nothing more, even after they’d pulled up to the curb in front of the VLO. Plucking at a fraying string on the seam of her jeans, she brooded over what to say, to explain, but decided it best to ignore the unexpected rift between them.

“What do you think about Ander owning the house?” she asked.

Staring out the windshield, he locked his arm straight as he gripped the wheel. “Not surprising. He owns more of this town than most people know. Probably more than Olen
Rex
and Evangeline did before they died. It’s like a contest to him.”

“He who has the most toys.” The flimsy attempt at humor fell flat, and an ache unfolded in her middle.
Regret
. Somehow, the world didn’t feel right without him smiling. Even in the middle of a dire situation, he had laughter. Professionally, he epitomized everything she didn’t like about law enforcement officers, so why was it so damned hard to remember that? Maybe things could be different if he’d open up to her. “Was there anything tying the victims together?”

“Why are you asking me?” His knuckles went white. “Don’t assume the cases are the same, Alice. That would be a mistake.”

Rather than spurring her frustration, his cold words only sharpened the ache. “They were fledglings, linked to Ander. You tell me, Ian. Was Ander ever brought up in the Infancy case?”

“Yes,” he said, “but only as a witness.”

She leaned against the door so she could face him squarely. “Ian.”

When he didn’t answer, she cradled his jaw in one hand and turned him toward her. He leaned closer, his eyes bright, molten, and alive with longing. His hypnotic gaze lowered to her lips. The effect of that alone pressed her lips apart. She swayed toward him until their breaths mingled.

“Alice,” he whispered.

“Hmm?”

“You said dating’s out, but how do you feel about more…
casual
…encounters?”

When her eyes widened and her jaw dropped, he laughed softly. With a huff, she tried to move away, but he’d clasped her upper arms.

“Don’t.” He chuckled. “Stay here. I like being close to you.”

A big, fat jolt of happy hit her. The frost had left him. He was smiling and watching her as if she was the only one under the moon again. Oh God, she wanted to delve her fingers through his dark russet hair, explore his firm, masculine form, kiss the smile from his lips, see if he had a six pack or an eight pack, search his body for freckles. Maybe she really was bipolar. Because those desires had no business burning when it came to Ian.

He watched her inner struggle play out, and his smile faded. “Frustrating wench.”

“Irish hick.” She played with the buttons on his shirt. “Are you having a midlife crisis?”

There. That brought that grin and twin dimples back. “Why do you ask?”

“Fast cars. Chasing after much, much, much younger women. You know.” She wiggled her eyebrows.

“You are unbelievable.” And he left it at those softly spoken words before turning to business. He settled back into his seat, leaving her hands cold without the feel of him beneath them. “There is something the victims have in common. None were Legion. They were all
Dominorum
.”

The divergence in conversation threw her off, but she recovered quickly. “I hadn’t thought to check that. You think that’s essential to the ritual or random?”

“Essential probably,” he said without hesitation. “But I can’t figure out why.”

“Maybe the ones involved are Legion and have something against the
Dominorum
.”

“Good possibility.” He frowned. “The castes have been on shaky ground for a very long time now, and it’s only getting worse. Could be the recent political upheaval spurred a—”

She waited a few beats, but he didn’t finish. “A what?”

“A fresh round of murders.” His voice had gone quiet, and then he gazed out his side window, his face angled away from her.

“What are you saying, Ian?”

He ran a hand through his hair and then rubbed his chin before facing her. “I’m saying I think the cases are the same.”

Chapter Ten

It was a good thing Ian was parked when the realization struck, or he’d have caused an accident. No amount of rationalization could save his soul. He’d murdered Hesperos in cold blood. Hes had been a right prick, but if he hadn’t been the murderer, he hadn’t deserved to die like an animal trapped in a wildfire. A crazed animal. Hes had spouted some filth before Ian had left him to the rampant blaze.

Insides flayed and raw, he slammed his hands against the steering wheel.

“Ian, are you okay?”

“No.” Would he ever be? “I left a killer to tear someone else’s life apart.”

Delicate fingers gripped his forearm. “You’re not responsible for that. And it’s
killers
, not only one killer. Remember the multiple blood traces?”

He disagreed on the responsibility part, but something else she’d said bothered him. He faced her, his brow furrowed. “That’s right.”

“Why do you sound surprised?”

“Just…can’t believe this comes down to an intercaste conflict.”

“
Maybe
. Were there problems between the castes during the old case?”

“Yes, but there always are.” The facts tumbled around like dice, but it made as little sense now as it had nearly fifty years ago. They’d never found any other blood on the scene of the Infancy killings but the victim’s. What he’d found in Hes’s journal had seemed damned clear on the steps of the ritual, and none of it involved other blood. He hated the idea of rehashing it with Declan, but his teammate was the only one likely to help him find the motive. If they could work that out, the rest was sure to follow. He had more footwork to do before he could feed tonight.

His eyes went instinctively to the pulse at Alice’s throat. Damned if he’d get a repeat of the other night, but he craved it. The memory of it would last an eternity, seared as it was into his very fabric. Feeding was routine, and though he’d often partaken of the physical need in the past while sating his hunger, he’d reached the point of not feeling any these days.

Until he met Alice.

“I’ll meet you later, hopefully with some answers.”

That cute crease appeared between her dainty eyebrows. “Where are you going? Do you need help?”

“No. I need to feed.”

Her lips formed a little O of surprise and a deep, rosy blush colored the apples of her cheeks. Damn her. She was interested whether she wanted to be or not. How dare she make him turn to some stranger for his needs when she was the one he wanted?

“Can I ask you something, Alice?”

“Of course.”

“Why do you hate cops so much?”

“Oh.” She fidgeted with a silver charm on her bracelet. “Uhm. They’re a bunch of crooked bastards.” She stared pointedly at him. “They do whatever they want and get away with it. Lie, cheat, steal, maim, murder. Twist things to make it seem like they’re innocent. You name it. And they act like they’re better than everyone else because they have a badge.”

He fingered his own Tracker medallion tucked behind his belt. “Something must have happened to make you feel that way. Not all cops are dirty.”

“In my world, they are, Ian.” She didn’t bother explaining, her mood changing with the speed of a flash flood. Maybe he shouldn’t have asked that question. “I have to go. I need to check in with my detectives and search the casebooks. I’m not even sure we have records as far back as the Infancy murders.”

“You won’t, but I’ll get them to you.”

Ready to bolt, she pressed against the door with her grip on the handle. Maybe she was right. He was no better than what she’d described. Apparently, a murderer hiding behind his medallion. He’d saved more lives than he could count, but one mistake wiped it all away as if none of the good in him existed. And she deserved better.

“Good night, Alice.” He couldn’t watch her get out and walk away. His desire to feed left with her. As he pulled away from the curb, he reminded himself how difficult she was. Why would he even want someone who despised him and what he did?

Forcing himself to concentrate, he turned the car toward Declan’s place. The caustic vampire would see things he might have overlooked. Dec had to be one of the best Trackers the Legion had. He’d cracked the case in the Infancy killings when he’d come across a journal in his investigation. So what if the guy had skewed the rules in order to find the evidence? It had been enough to morally damn Hes, not that the evidence had mattered.

Hes had collected enough high-ranking
Dominorum
in his pocket to weasel out of the charges. In hindsight, and with the killings beginning anew, Hes couldn’t have been the murderer, but that didn’t mean he hadn’t known the killer’s identity, or maybe had disciples do the killing for him. Regardless, Ian couldn’t live in denial anymore, not after this. His sole motivation for taking Hes out had been revenge.

A quick call to Dec went to voice mail. He might have been at Ezra’s. Ian had missed the last two team meetings, but no one had called him on it. Ezra was the kind of guy who’d give him space, considering the case he was working. It didn’t take long to get from downtown to the Pioneer Square building that housed Ezra’s penthouse loft. His foot barely hit the first step when Dec came out the front gate.

“Just the fella I was looking for.”

Dec sighed but jogged down the steps toward him. “So you found time to join us.”

“I missed you, too.” Ian’s grin died a slow death when Dec didn’t respond. Declan had always been a temperamental creature, but he’d also always been a squared-away militant, alert and neatly trimmed all around. But his dark hair was disheveled, his cheeks leaner than before, his jaw rough with day-old growth, his eyes dull with fatigue. A tear in the sleeve of his ivory dress shirt was a sure indication Ian had missed something big. “What’s up with you, partner?”

“Everything.” Dec never beat
around
a bush when it was so much more violent and therapeutic to beat the bush directly. The man had to have some avenue to vent that cynical wrath he kept bottled up. “There was a riot at Ptolomy’s gates early tonight. Nearly a hundred Legion demanding a division of state, tired of being treated like subservient peons.”

“At Ptolomy’s?”

Now that was surprising. After the recent deaths of the ruling couple, Olen
Rex
and
Domina
Evangeline, they thought the world would go to war, but Kade, too young to take his father’s throne as the new
Rex
, had come up with the brilliant idea of making Ptolomy his Regent until Kade was old enough to satisfy
Immortalis
protocol.

Though freakishly trapped in a teenage surfer-boy body with gauged ears and a porn-star-bunny entourage, Ptolomy was an extremely powerful
Dominus
. His appointment should have satisfied the
Immortalis
as a whole, Legion and
Dominorum
alike. Ian would have been fine with Kade, but he wasn’t so sure Dec would be satisfied no matter who ruled the
Immortalis
. His friend’s discontent ran deeper, enough to spur him to attend a few clandestine Legion meetings intent on an uprising. Damn him to hell.

“Yeah,” Dec said. “They say he’s a meatpuppet, that he’s going to cut transformations in half and require blood-donor registration. The rumor is he’s going to require
Immortalis
registration at the demand of the humans. That’s only a step away from putting us into camps. Segregation.”

Ian winced at the idea. “What does Ptolomy say?”

“Threw the bullshit flag. Said that would be a leap backward in human relations. He doesn’t know where these rumors are coming from, but they’re enough to stir things up again.”

“Guess it doesn’t help Kade’s going to mate the Vice Director of the VLO.” He shifted uneasily from one foot to the other. “Where are you in this?” As if he didn’t know that answer.

Dec glanced around the empty street and shoved his hands into the pockets of his trousers. “Where I’m supposed to be. Keeping the peace.
If
, and that’s a big if, the Legion secedes from the
Dominorum
, I’ll still be where I’m supposed to be.”

“And that is…”

Dec made eye contact this time. “With the Legion.”

“The
Dominorum
won’t let us go easily. It’ll be a fight.”

“Yes, I’m well aware.”

“It would be a bad idea to secede.” Many of the
Dominorum
were friends he considered extended family. “I don’t agree with it, and I don’t like it. It would weaken all vampires against the humans. We should be united.”

That familiar darkness entered Dec’s eyes. “We’re not united now. Never have been.”

Those words, more than anything, showed Ian the root cause of his friend’s bitterness.

“On some levels, perhaps,” he said. He held Dec’s gaze. “I’ll be beside you, wherever you belong.”

“No kissing on the mouth.” A smile didn’t accompany the declaration of brotherhood, but Ian knew it was inside somewhere.

He flashed a grin. “Wouldn’t be the first time a man has caught my eye.”

“Yeah?” Dec headed toward Ian’s ride. “Do they dry-hump you like the women do?”

“What? You’ve never fed from a man before?”

Dec snorted but declined to answer.

“You’re missing out. Forceful. So damned hot. All that power driven by lust. You should try it naked.”

“I’ll live vicariously through you.”

Ian climbed in the Bentley with a laugh. “What can I say? I’m open-minded.” He fought against the memories, but the wounds from the past went deep.

Dec didn’t need an explanation for his sudden silence. “You miss Sean.”

“Always.”

“But this case you’re working with Alice, it’s shoving it in your face again.” At Ian’s nod, Dec turned to face the windshield. “I’ll help however I can.”

“Yep, and it happens that it’s why I’m here. Are we going to my place or yours for our hot date?”

“Yours,” Dec said a little too quickly. “If I have to stare at my walls another minute, the
vesania
will get me, forget my age.”

“Dec, I think you need to get a life. Find a nice mate. That always staves off the
vesania
. But good luck finding a woman who’d put up with your pissy arse.”

Another snort was his answer. Dec was like Sean in many ways, with a well of darkness Ian was inexorably drawn to. The power to shine the light into that well filled him until he grew twenty feet tall. He needed it like he needed blood. Which explained Alice. But unlike with Sean, Ian wanted to ride between her legs until the woman couldn’t walk straight. Jokes aside, he’d been as close to Sean as a man could get without sex. Losing his maker had crippled him, but getting intimate with Alice invited utter annihilation. Her unspoken need for what he had to offer was going to suck him so far in, he’d never find a way out.

Once they’d arrived and settled into the business of reviewing the casebooks, the rest of the night flew by until the tug of dawn forced them to break for the night.

“The blood’s significant.”

Ian glanced up from his laptop. “Yes, but what are you thinking?”

“It’s a big difference between the serials. The Infancy Killer was meticulous. Made each ritual identical. The new murders use different candles, and the placement is off. Whoever’s killing now weren’t involved with those old murders. There had to have been only one Infancy Killer or the scenes would be the same.” Dec leaned on the desk in front of Ian. “You got the right guy, Ian. Don’t doubt yourself.”

Ian sat back in his seat. “Why would I do that? My blood’s as cold as yours.”

“I’ve known you much too long to play games. I can feel your guilt like it’s under my skin.”

Ian eyed his friend for a long moment. “You’re a good man, Dec.”

And there it was, the yearly laugh from Dec. It could be a while before he heard another. “And you’re a fucking angel, white wings and all. Angels don’t drool over men, by the way. Just thought you’d like to know.”

“Hey, men can be as beautiful as women. Don’t knock it till you try it.” Ian stretched and folded his hands behind his head. “So if these
are
disciples of Hes, why the long wait in between murders?”

“Why do they have to be disciples? Maybe he didn’t know them, and they came across the same ritual Hes used.”

“No one has that information. It died with Hes. And it’s in the journal, of course, safely stowed away in a dusty corner with the Trackers.”

Dec paced in front of the desk before leaning on it again. “Are we sure about that?”

“No fucking way, Dec. Only Trackers have access.”

“Maybe we’re probing the wrong ass, Ian. We’ve been pegging the
Dominorum
, but with all this crap going on with the Legion…Let’s just leave it at that.”

Well then. Ian made a quick call to headquarters. After an extended wait on the phone, their answer came back, one that shook him to the marrow.

“Goddamn, Dec. You were right. The journal’s missing.”

“Fucking-A, I’m a genius.”

“Now it’s a matter of finding out who nabbed it.”

“And then we’ll have our killers.”