Succubus Lost (Files from the Otherworlder Enforcement Agency, #2) (13 page)

The night had been magnificent and, despite the passion, I’d gotten more rest in his bed than I had on my own all week. I grinned to myself. Exercise was good for sleep.

I traced his smooth skin with my fingertips, and he wrapped his arms around me more tightly. God it felt good to be held. So good. Too good.

I blinked at the clock on the nightstand. Only seven.

We needed to get a move on, but at least we hadn’t really overslept. He mumbled something and took a deep breath against my hair. I smiled. No reason we had to go right now. An extra half an hour certainly couldn’t hurt.

A moment passed before I processed the click of the lock giving way. By then, the door was opening. I sat up, holding the sheet against my chest, and reached over to the nightstand. I tugged my gun from its holster and pointed it at the doorway.

Or to be more accurate, I pointed my gun at the gorgeous redhead who strolled into the room, carefully balancing donuts and coffee in her hands.

We stared at each other for a moment. Her green eyes narrowed, and then she raised an eyebrow at the man next to me. Costa pushed himself up on his elbows, and he frowned at our uninvited guest.

“What are you doing here, Beatrice?” I glanced at him. Was she uninvited after all?

“Maybe you should get your little girlfriend to drop the gun before you start asking me stupid questions, Val.” Her voice was rich and smooth, and lower-pitched than I would have guessed. Sultry, that was the word.

“Put down the gun, Mari. This is my partner, Beatrice Davis,” he mumbled. Costa sat up on the edge of the bed and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes.

I frowned at him but lowered the gun.

“Jesus, Val. I knew you were hoping to use the succubus to lure out the perp, but I didn’t know you were going to have to fuck her to do it.” The redhead grimaced and set the coffee and donuts on the desk.

My hand flew to my mouth, and self-loathing coursed through me like a vile drug sent directly to my veins. A weight settled in on my chest, and I went very still. Use the succubus? Lure out the perp? Didn’t know he’d have to fuck her to do it?

“Get the fuck out of here, Beatrice,” Costa said, voice low and hard. Dangerous.

Beatrice shrugged and tossed her hair over her shoulder. “Whatever, I’ll be in the lobby while you two...

finish up in here.”

The door slammed behind her, and I flinched.

“Don’t let her get to you,” Costa said, voice tight. But anger didn’t cover his face, guilt did. He wouldn’t meet my eyes; instead he looked down. “Last time I leave a key for her. She can wait for me if she needs files from now on.” His expression carried all the confirmation I needed.

I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. I had to get out.

I grabbed my clothes and yanked them on. Costa was talking to me, but I couldn’t hear him. I couldn’t pause to listen to his bullshit. I had to go.

He grabbed me by my shoulders. “Listen to me,
bella
.” I stepped back, staring at the floor, and he released me. I couldn’t look at him. If I looked at him I would cry.

And there was only so much humiliation I could take in one morning.

“Don’t touch me,” I finally rasped out. “You will never fucking touch me again.” I shoved past Costa and ran for the door. He didn’t stop me.

To my utter horror, tears started to leak down my face as soon as I reached the lobby. I moved outside quickly, keeping my head down, and silently praying that Costa’s partner wouldn’t see me as I shuffled through the doors.

Once I hit the sidewalk, I strode to my car. Costa could find his own ride back to the station.

I hadn’t cried when Elaine was taken—not really. I hadn’t cried when I’d learned what they were going to do to her if I didn’t find her in time and stop them. But this—

crying over a man? What the hell was wrong with me? Oh sure, it didn’t help that this hit on top of everything else.

And the piece of my mind that remained rational realized that given all the stressors in my life—not to mention the lack of sleep—this wasn’t exactly a crazy response. That it was probably a delayed reaction, having more to do with Elaine than Costa and his rude partner. But the rest of my mind thought I was shallow. And so I cried harder.

I wallowed in my misery as I drove to my house. I couldn’t do anything for Elaine until I got home and pulled calmed down, so I parked on the side of the road for a few minutes, quit fighting the tears, and let them fall.

Once I’d gotten myself somewhat together and parked in front of my townhouse, I trudged up to my front door, not even bothering to pretend I walked with any sort of dignity.

Flipping Costa.

I took a quick shower, finally letting loose the last of my tears under the hot stream of water. I let the heat wipe away the pain and anger and humiliation. I let it comfort me.

Numb, I got dressed and then made myself a cup of tea. I sat down at my dining room table. I had to focus on finding Elaine, on figuring this out. Whatever Costa had intended anyway—using me as bait aside—didn’t seem to be working. The perp was either too smart to try to kidnap a cop, especially a cop working his case, or I didn’t fit the bill in some other way. I wasn’t exactly in the age range of the average victim—just a touch too old.

I pulled out the case files and started scanning them again, one by one. I made a list of the cities we knew about, and approximate date ranges that the kidnapper would need to have been in those cities. There were gaps, but I would bet that more than a few of those piles of ash had never been discovered, in who knows what cities, or—

less likely—that some of the succubi who had disappeared had never been reported missing.

According to my list, the perp would have been in Phoenix before Chicago—kidnapping a succubus there.

And prior to that, Anchorage, where a pile of ashes proving to be those of an unknown otherworlder was found near a police station.

I’d take it to Natalie, I decided. She hadn’t called yet saying she’d found anything, but the information couldn’t hurt for her to have. It might make her search quicker, and an obvious suspect might even become apparent. Hope surged within me and suddenly I was on my feet, full of energy, and barely able to stop myself from racing out the door.

I called Natalie’s office as I walked to my car. No answer, but I figured she’d probably be in by the time I was able to drive there, so I headed for her office first. I drove with the radio blasting, focusing fully on the notes pounding in my brain to avoid thinking of anything else. But thoughts of Valerio Costa trickled in, forcing Bon Jovi’s lyrics right out of my head. His crazy black salamander eyes—eyes that should have been creepy, but were somehow intensely sexy. The conviction in his voice when he insisted I was a good investigator. And the way his arms held me, so safely against him while I slept.

Oh boy.

I skidded around a turn, glaring at the car behind me as they mashed their horn. No. I was not falling for Valerio Costa. I was not. The man had used me as bait.

Even worse, he hadn’t told me that was part of the plan.

Why had he slept with me? Because he wanted to keep me in his room in case the kidnapper came looking for me? Maybe. Maybe not. Maybe I was just overreacting because of the stress of Elaine’s kidnapping.

But what if I wasn’t?

A great weight settled onto my chest, pushing the air from my lungs, the hope from my thoughts. So I drove fast, sang loud, and did everything I could to keep Valerio Costa out of my head and away from my heart.

Natalie Leigh’s building was as pristine as always. The morning light reflected off the building’s dark glass, and that bit of brightness imbued me with hope. I walked inside, lost in my thoughts, and ran into what felt like a brick wall. Cool hands on my arms steadied me, and I looked up and met the gaze of a familiar face and the strong scent of herbs swirled around me. It took me a moment to place the large man as the one I’d seen in the lobby when I’d visited Natalie alone about the burned body case. He dropped his hands and stared at me, as if his eyes would bore through me, sweat gathering on his forehead.

I stepped aside, uncomfortable. Did he work security for the building or something? A suit adorned his body, but he carried himself like professional muscle. He lugged a bag, and I wondered if that was where the herbal scent had come from. Perhaps he was a customer of Natalie’s?

Or a supplier?

I felt his eyes on my back, and I waved at the receptionist. Recognizing me, she nodded and reached for the phone. The witch, it seemed, wasn’t one for surprises. I didn’t look back, but headed for the elevator. Encouraging the man by acknowledging him was a bad idea.

Waiting patiently for the elevator to ding, I checked my cell phone. Still no call from Costa. No half-assed explanations. No attempts to get me to listen. No screw-yous. The fact that he hadn’t even tried to call somehow made it worse. It hadn’t been long, of course. Yet if he really cared, wouldn’t he have followed me out of the hotel?

But no. No chase. No call. No worries—for him, anyway.

I grumbled and stuffed the phone back in my jacket as I boarded the elevator. I turned back and hit the button for Natalie’s floor. The large man no longer watched me, and the revolving door still spun from his departure. One less thing to worry about.

I knew should call Costa and give him a chance to explain. Tell him what I was taking to Natalie. That would be the mature thing to do. His partner was a bitch, but that didn’t mean that he was as bad as her words made him appear. And I had a feeling that what he’d confided in me the night before wasn’t a story he told carelessly, if he’d even shared it before. But as the light behind the numbers counted off the floors in the elevator, I couldn’t force myself to take out my phone to make the call.

Natalie’s office door stood ajar, but her office itself was empty. I frowned and rubbed my arms. Nothing appeared disturbed, no rustled papers or knocked-over chairs. Perhaps she just hadn’t arrived for the day?

Her day planner sat on her desk, so I gave the office and waiting room a quick once-over and then flipped it open. Today, she showed appointments starting at seven o’clock and going clear through eight tonight. For Natalie, appointments almost certainly meant she was in her casting room, which was situated down a hallway from her office. I’d seen it once, when we cast the locator spell to find Elaine. A spell we’d cast in vain.

I whistled under my breath. The rest of her upcoming week appeared just as full. When did she have time for a life? Or even to eat?

It was nine now, and her calendar listed an appointment from eight until ten. So where were they? Her note was in shorthand, but it looked like some sort of luck spell had been scheduled. A private client, then. The police department didn’t believe in luck.

The door leading to the hallway between her office and spell room stood closed, and I considered for a moment going back there to see if she was busy casting. I grimaced. No. Probably not the smartest idea. Magic was tricky. I was no expert, but I was pretty certain that no one would be happy if I interrupted her spell. Who knew what the consequences could be? For all I knew, barging in there might make her blow us all up.

I glanced longingly at her computer, but jarring her mouse revealed the screen to be locked and that a password was needed. Just as well. How bad would it look if she walked in to find me on her computer? No way would she believe that I was just on there to Google some information while I waited. I suppressed a sigh and pulled out my phone. The screen was small and the speed wasn’t up to what a real computer could do, but it would have to work.

I loaded the tiny browser and tapped my fingernails on her desk while I waited for the search screen to load. When the box finally popped up, I typed in “Anchorage, Witch” and hit enter. It might be a long shot, but Anchorage was out of the way. It wasn’t exactly a bustling city for visiting Covenant members. A high level member—or former member—might earn a spot in the paper if news was slow.

The search came up with hundreds of pages of results, and I scrolled through the first page without clicking on any of the links. Most were for local coven’s websites. The second page netted very similar results, with the exception of one link.

The
Anchorage Daily News
listed an article about a bigwig witch visiting for some sort of new bill signing. I hit the link and waited impatiently for it to load. After what felt like forever, the page slowly came up, one inch at a time on the small screen, almost too small to read. I zoomed in on the page and checked the date. Four months ago. Yes. That fit the range all right. I scrolled down and then stopped abruptly.

No flipping way.

The name stood out to me on the screen as if bolded, as did his very small but very happy face on the included picture. Viktor Koslov. That put him in the right city during the right timeframe for two incidences: Anchorage and Chicago. And he was a powerful witch, powerful enough to have twisted a succubus’s powers. Chicago might be a coincidence, but Anchorage, too?

As I stared at the picture, something else caught my attention. A large man stood in the background. The man I’d run into downstairs. My heart stopped.

Natalie.

If Koslov was involved in this, Natalie might not be safe. We’d had her looking into witches capable of pulling off the power transfer. I pushed up from the chair and strode toward the door to her casting room, but my hand froze on the knob. So what if Viktor had been in Alaska with the creepy man from the lobby? He might be one witch of many, especially if the legislation they passed was a big enough deal for him to go there to show his approval.

What if I was wrong, and I walked in there and someone got hurt?

I gritted my teeth and stepped away from the door. I pulled my phone out and hit the back button. Thankfully, the search screen loaded quickly, and with shaking fingers I typed in, “Koslov, Phoenix” on the small screen.

Time moved even more achingly slowly as I waited for the results to load. Finally, after what felt like hours, the first page of results appeared. As I took in the short summary of the first listing, my breath caught in my throat.