"Joe said the woman who contacted the teenager had a deep, almost manly voice. The woman in the warehouse didn't."
"Ever heard of voice modulators?"
"Of course I damn well have." Hell, I'd used the horrible things. "I still don't think they're the same woman."
"Why not? Because you don't want me investigating further?"
Well, yeah. "No. And it's nothing more than a hunch."
He studied me for a moment, and there was something in his look that made me uncomfortable. Like he was trying to get inside my mind and pick it apart. Only he wasn't actually doing that. I would have felt the intrusion. Eventually, he said, "Do you often get these hunches?"
"Sometimes."
"And do they often come true?"
"Sometimes."
He smiled again. "You're not very forthcoming with information, are you?"
"You're a bounty-hunting killer who has been warned off the case. Why is it surprising that I'm not forthcoming with information?"
"I wasn't talking about the case."
"And why would I want to provide personal information?" My voice was dry. "You and I have nothing in common."
"Other than the fact we're both paid to kill, you mean?"
I crossed my arms and resisted the urge to point out that I at least was a legal killer. Being on one side or the other wasn't really his point. "Other than that, yes."
"Well, we do seem to have this odd attraction flaring."
"Kye, the full moon is only days away and we're both werewolves. Lust is natural-but I, for one, am not going to act on it."
"I wouldn't bet on that."
Neither would I, actually. "Get in the car and leave, or I'll make you."
There was nothing pleasant or nice about his sudden smile. He considered me for a moment, then raised a hand, lightly brushing his fingertips down my cheek. It felt like I was being branded by fire and, deep inside, my wolf shivered. I wasn't entirely sure whether it was fear or anticipation.
"Don't ever threaten me, Riley," he said quietly, his voice so silky soft, carrying no hint of threat and yet full of it all the same. "Because I will kill you if I have to. Nothing personal, of course. I'm just here to do my job."
I stepped away from his touch, but I could still feel the heat of it on my skin. Part of me wanted to scrub it away, the other half wanted to exalt in it.
"You have no idea what I'm capable of, Kye. Don't ever think you'll come out on top in a fight with me."
"Ah, but I have the advantage of knowing what you are. You have no idea what I truly am, and therein lies my advantage."
And with that, he turned and walked around the front of car and climbed in. The big car roared to life and, within seconds, he was gone.
Leaving me standing there wondering who was the bigger fool-him or me.
After a second, I grabbed my cell phone and called the Directorate as I walked to the car. Sal answered.
"Of course it would be you," she said tartly. "It's nearly my quitting time."
"I'd hate for you to be bored in your final few minutes, Sal," I said cheerfully. "I need you to start a search for me."
"Of course you do." In the background I heard keys tapping. "Okay, who?"
"Kye Murphy. Werewolf, bodyguard, and gun for hire. Rhoan and I did a basic search on him awhile ago, but I need a deep one. I want it all-gossip, secrets, family, the lot."
"And why would you be needing all this?"
"Because he's turned up on a crime scene twice now, and each time he's gotten there before us. I want to know where, or how, he's getting his information."
"You could always arrest his ass."
"I have a bad feeling that would not be easy-and that's another reason why I need this information fast. He's hiding something, and I want to know what."
"Sounds like you've got a thing for this bad boy," she said dryly.
"All werewolves have a 'thing' for each other during the full moon phase, Sal. It's beside the point."
She sniffed. "I'll initiate it, but it'll take awhile to collect the information."
"Let me know when it's there."
"Will do."
I hung up and climbed into my car, then headed home to write up my overdue reports. Neither Rhoan or Liander were home when I got there, but I found a note on the fridge saying they'd gone out for dinner.
Which made my stomach rumble a reminder that it needed something more substantial than a burger. So once I'd typed up the report and sent it off to Jack, I grabbed my cell and rang Quinn.
"I was wondering when I was going to hear from you," he said.
The sexy lilt in his voice made want me to sigh in pleasure. "I didn't want to disturb any vital business meetings."
"All business meetings are vital, and they all drag on into boredom if there isn't a reason to take a break." His voice was wry. "Am I going to see you tonight?"
"That depends on whether you intend to pay for dinner or not. I gave my last spare cash to a street kid and now I'm broke until payday."
"And I'm sure there's a perfectly good reason for you doing that. Only it probably won't make sense to the more logical of us."
"That's a rather catty remark from someone who wants sex tonight."
"Not when I'm paying for the dinner you obviously can't afford."
"True. Apology accepted then."
He laughed softly. "Shall I try and book a table at Wren's?"
Wren's was the latest "it" spot for all of Melbourne's high flyers and, as such, had a waiting list months long. Luckily for us, Quinn knew the owner and most times could get us squeezed in. We'd been there five times now, and I adored the food. Mainly because Wren's was rare in the world of fine dining-it actually served enough food to keep even a hungry werewolf happy.
"If you get us a table, I'll love you forever."
"If only you would," he said, with another laugh. The sound washed across my senses as sweetly as a caress and made my body tingle with desire. "What time?"
I glanced at my watch. It was just after six-thirty now, and Wren's was in the heart of Toorak, which was always a hassle to get to.
"I can be there by seven-thirty."
"You really are hungry."
"And maybe not just for food," I said cheekily. "I hope you're not wearing an expensive suit, vampire, because I fully intend to rip it off later."
"Be my guest. It'll be worth the loss."
I grinned. "See you in an hour."
I hung up then walked into the bathroom, having a quick shower and drying my hair before heading for my bedroom. Wren's was posh, so I grabbed a form-fitting black skirt that was split up the left side, and a sexy black jacket for warmth. The jacket was short, barely skimming my waist, and the neckline plunged enough to show glimpses of my lacy red bra. I had matching panties, but I didn't put them on. There was something delicious about going without them. To complete the outfit, I chose four-inch red stilettos-the ones with the wood heels, of course. Mainly because Jack had a habit of calling me out to a job at the most awkward times, and the wooden stilettos had come in handy as a weapon more than once.
Quinn was already waiting in front of the glass and chrome building when I arrived. He was dressed semi-formally in black pants and a neat pale-pink shirt that was roughly rolled up to the elbows, and he was holding a black jacket casually over his shoulder. He looked absolutely wonderful.
His gaze met mine for a moment, then swept down my length, and the desire that stirred the air when he looked up again was powerful enough to make my wolf soul want to howl.
"You look fantastic," he said, swinging around and offering me his free arm.
I laughed softly. "I was just thinking the same about you."
"Then we're well matched." The gray-clad doorman opened the door and gave us a nod. Quinn continued, "Frances couldn't give us a table tonight."
Disappointment ran through me, then stalled as I saw the amusement in his bright eyes. "I'm sensing there's a 'but' to that statement."
"But I booked out the starlight function room for us instead."
I stared at him for a moment, then laughed. "That room is huge."
"So is, I presume, your appetite, because I have preordered all your favorites. Besides, what is the point of being a billionaire if I cannot splurge occasionally?"
I grinned. "I guess this means we'll have to make sure you get your money's worth."
The look he gave me just about smoked my insides, and it was all I could do to stop myself dancing with excitement.
Frances Wren, owner and chief hostess of the business, approached as we neared the maitre d's station. She was a tall, willowy woman with perfect blond hair and sapphire colored eyes. She was also over five hundred years old, and didn't look a day over twenty. Vampirism did have its benefits.
"Quinn," she said, her Irish accent far more pronounced than his ever had been. "It's lovely to see you again."
He gave her a hug and a kiss on the cheek. "I hope I'm not pushing my luck by booking at such short notice."
"The room wasn't being used, so it's hardly a problem. Besides, I owe you far more than a table a couple of times a week." She turned her attention to me, and her smile radiated a warmth that had my own lips reacting. "Riley. Lovely to see you again."
"Are you sure opening the starlight room for just the two of us isn't going to be a problem?"
She gave Quinn an amused look. "Rest assured, it isn't. And he did tell me it was a matter of life or death. For his clothes, that is."
"He might have been right."
She laughed softly. "This way, please."
She led us through the packed dining room. The color scheme was as muted as the light, and the overall impression the room gave was one of warm welcome. Wren's decor might be subdued, but the food was spectacular, and that was probably the secret behind its success.
We climbed the stairs at the back and reached the barely lit landing. The decor here was richer, all claret and gold, with plush velvet chairs and tapestries on the wall. Wren opened the double doors that led off the wide corridor beyond the stairs and ushered us through.
Like the hallway, the starlight room was plush and rich. Tapestries and old paintings lined three walls, but the fourth-the side that looked onto the street-was a smoky glass through which little could be seen. There was no ceiling in this room, just more glass. The sky was clear and bright above us.
The room itself was shadowed, the only light coming from the muted wall lights and the candelabra set up in the middle of the table. Two wineglasses sat near the candelabra, and an open bottle of wine waited in a freestanding chiller.
"Your meal will be up in an hour," Frances said softly, amusement dancing across her lips. "I hope that gives you enough time."
I waited until she'd left, then glanced at Quinn, eyebrow raised. "Time enough for what?"
"To enjoy the wine, of course." He rested his fingers lightly against my spine, guiding me across to the table. The heat of his touch sent little flashes of desire racing across my flesh, until it felt like my whole body was tingling.
"It doesn't take a whole hour to drink one bottle of wine," I said, sitting on the edge of the table rather than on one of the plush chairs.
"It does if you drink it with proper appreciation, rather than merely gulping." He handed me a glass, then picked up the wine and poured it. "Tell me about your day."
He sat down beside me, his long legs stretched out and crossed at his feet, his thighs brushing mine and practically sending my pulse rate into overload. I wanted him so bad the scent of it hung on the air, but the lusty aroma wasn't just mine.
He obviously had his seduction all planned, and though my blood practically boiled with the need for him, I wasn't in the mood to hurry tonight. Not when we had this big old room to ourselves, and all night to play.
"Did you know either Garrison Bovel or Armel Lambert?"
"Given your use of the past tense, I take it they've both been killed?"
His gaze moved from my face, drifting downward, until it rested on the swell of my breasts. My nipples hardened under his scrutiny, and it was all I could do not to undo the tiny buttons and allow him full viewing access.
"Yes, they have."
He took a sip of wine, then place the glass back down on the table and said, "I didn't know Bovel personally, but I did hear he'd been doing well with the importing business he'd set up. Armel was one of the older ones, so yes, I knew him."
His tone had my eyebrow rising. "I take it you didn't like him?"
"He was a player. He took risks. And all too often he included others in those risks-mostly to their detriment." He shrugged eloquently. "On another note, I always thought bright red lingerie wouldn't suit a redhead, but that bra looks lovely against your skin. I don't suppose there's panties to match?"
I took a sip of wine. The rich fruity taste rolled around my tongue and made me want to sigh in pleasure. "That's for me to know and you to find out later. We have wine and food to enjoy first."
His sigh was dramatic, but the effect was spoiled by the twinkle in his bright eyes. "And there's nothing I can do to change your mind?"
He raised a hand as he said it and trailed a finger across the top of my breasts, just above the bra's lace line. Though his touch was light, it seared my system with a heat that was pure and lusty. A tremor ran across my skin and the deep-down ache suddenly leapt into focus.
