Deadly Desire

"No. He just shuffled them into the bedroom, like. One of them was a screamer, though."

I barely managed to contain my smile. "Which one was she?"

"Vicki. The reluctant one."

Who obviously wasn't so reluctant in the end. "And she worked at Man Hard?"

"I think that's where he met her, yes."

Then Vicki from Man Hard would need to be talked to-though whether she or the club was the co

"I don't think so."

I pushed to my feet. "If you do think of anything, contact the Directorate." And if she didn't, someone from the Directorate would follow up with her regardless.

She nodded and wiped a hand across her nose again. I headed out. Cole was kneeling near the victim's head. "You ever heard of a strip joint called Man Hard?"

"Now why would you think I'd be visiting strip joints?" he said without looking up.

"Uh, because you're a man?"

He snorted softly. "Being a man doesn't automatically mean I have a preference for visiting strip clubs."

"Well, being a werewolf doesn't automatically mean I'm a whore, but half the world holds that opinion of us."

"Touché." He flashed me a grin that was more than nice. "Doesn't change the fact, though. I don't visit clubs. Stripper or wolf."

"You must live a sad and lonely life, Cole Reece."

"Only in comparison to some werewolves. By wolf shifter standards, I'm very outgoing."

Then the wolf shifters had very different standards from the rest of the supernatural community. "Found anything else of note?"

"Dust."

"Dust?"

"Yeah. Not the sort of dust that generally accumulates around houses, either. This stuff appears to be herbal."

I frowned. "There was dust at both Armel's and Bovel's, too."

Cole nodded. "It's been at all three scenes. I'd hazard a guess it's the same, but we won't know until we get the samples to the lab."

"So how is this dust important?"

"That I can't say." He paused to seal the bag. "Shore's safe has been opened, just like the rest of them, though this murder isn't as violent as the second one."

"Maybe because he has closer neighbors."

"Could be."

"You'll let me know if you find anything?"

"You know, you could read reports like a normal person."

I gri

"I'm not ever sleeping with you, you know that, don't you?"

"Facts have never stopped the fun of trying."

He snorted softly. "Will you just get out of here and let me work?"

I gave him a break and left. Once back in the car, I did a search on the strip club that A

And I knew exactly who would know. I pulled my cell phone from my pocket, flicked the vid-button, then rang Ben.

"Hey, how's my favorite werewolf doing?" he said, his smile like snow against the utter night of his skin.

"I thought your sister was your favorite werewolf."

"Well, she is. But I can't sleep with her. You I can."

His blue eyes shone with amusement and my stomach did flip-flops. Ben and I hadn't gotten any further than just being friends, and while the potential to become lovers was definitely there, it would never be anything more. Ben had found, and lost, his soul mate several years ago, and her death had shattered his heart. He might live, he might be marginally happy, and he might enjoy sex, but there could never be anything more for him. Could never be anything deeper.

"I don't think my vampire would be too happy about me sexing you on a regular basis."

"How about a nonregular basis?"

"Not even that, I suspect."

"You have told him I'm harmless, haven't you?"

"Yeah, but he isn't believing it."

"You really need to sit down and talk to that man. He's spoiling all my fun."

I laughed softly. "And possibly mine."

"No possibly about it, my sweet." His grin flashed again. "What can I do for you?"

"I need some information about a strip club."

"Well, the cost of supplying information is having a meal with me."

"You're just trying to get me into bed again."

"No doubt about it." The corners of his blue eyes crinkled with the force of his smile. "So, how about it?"

"Yes to a late di

He paused and glanced away. "I have a break in forty-five minutes. You want to meet me around at Fuzzball's?"

Fuzzball's was a little cafe not far away from his work. We'd met there once, for lunch, and while the food or coffee wasn't great, it certainly wasn't the worse place that I've ever eaten.

"I'll be there in forty-five."

"I'll be waiting."

I gri

"Riley, it's Mike. You said to ring if I had anything else."

It took a moment for the name to click. It was the street kid-the one with the bright blue eyes and quick mind.

"I did. What have you got?"

He didn't ask for cash, as I half expected him to. Instead, he said in a rush, "There was a woman here asking about Joe. It wasn't the same one that talked to Kaz, but I think she's going to kill him."

Chapter Six

"She can't find him, right?" I said, a little alarmed by the panic in his voice. Mike was a kid who had seemed totally in control. I wouldn't have expected this sort of reaction out of him.

"But she can. She did something to me. I don't know…" He paused. "She threw this dust at me, and suddenly I couldn't stop blabbing. Anything she asked, I answered. It was unreal." He blew out a breath. "I thought she was harmless. She was in a damn wheelchair, after all."

A wheelchair. So Cole was right about the reasons the bird was resting on its belly. While shapeshifting could heal most injuries, there were a few that could never be repaired. Missing limbs didn't grow back, and broken spines were never fixed. I had no idea why, especially when most other broken bones could be repaired once set. Maybe it had something to do with nerve damage.

"Look, this woman is a sorcerer, so she's obviously used some sort of magic on you. How much head start has she got?"

"Maybe five minutes. She said she'd kill everyone if I moved or tried to warn Joe, but once I got the chance, I rang you."

"And did you ring Joe?"

"No. I mean, I can't. He doesn't have a phone with him when he's working."

"I thought you said he didn't work nights."

"Well, he doesn't normally. But he hasn't had a good run this week and needs the cash."

I bit down on the instinct to ask what he needed the cash for, simply because it was a stupid question. Even street kids needed cash for some of the necessities in life. Although in Joe's case I didn't think one of those necessities was drugs. Not yet, anyway. "Where is he?"

"He's working the hospitals. I'm not sure which one he's doing tonight, but he did the Freemasons last night, so it'll probably be the Epworth tonight."

I frowned. "What do you mean, he's working the hospitals?"

"He's a pickpocket. Hospitals are great places to work, because no one expects it."

That's because most people expected a certain level of respect in hospitals. But then, a street kid living just above the starvation line isn't exactly going to be respectful of anything but his own skin.