Hotter After Midnight

His chest rose and fell slowly. But she knew he wasn’t asleep. Not yet.

“I-I need to ask you something, Colin.” When she’d gone into the bathroom, she’d found scratch marks on her hips. And when they’d been making love, she’d felt the sharpened edge of his teeth against her. Strangely, she hadn’t been frightened when she thought he was going to bite her.

She’d been…aroused.

And she’d never been one of those girls with a vampire fetish.

But with Colin, none of her usual rules seemed to apply.

She lifted her hand, trailed her fingers over the broad expanse of his chest. She liked his chest. Liked the smooth muscles, the dark curling hair that arrowed down to his groin.

Her hand moved to his shoulder. Found the faint, raised scar.

“What do you want to know?” He caught her hand. Brought it to his lips and kissed her palm.

She drew in a quick breath. The signs were starting to mount up against Colin, and she really, really needed to know…“Colin, what animal do you carry?” The teeth, the claws, the shining eyes—had to be a panther, a leopard, or maybe a wolf.

He stiffened against her. “Does it matter?”

Once, she would have said that it did. But now, she wasn’t so sure. “You don’t have to hide from me.”

“And you don’t have to worry about the beast I carry.” His fingers tightened around hers. “I’ll never let him hurt you. I control him, he doesn’t control me.”

She’d heard that from others before. Heard them swear they could contain the beast inside. And she’d known they lied.

Because the beasts inside the shifters, they were strong. Deadly. And if the man was pushed too far, the animal would take over.

It was the nature of the beast.

Someone was pounding at the door. Emily grabbed a pillow, pulled it over her head. No, no, she didn’t want to wake up yet.

“Shit!” A masculine growl that was way, way too close.

She shoved the pillow aside as her eyes snapped open. Colin. Her memory came flooding back.

Darla.

The killer.

The dumb-ass kid who’d busted into her house.

And the hottest sex she’d had in years.

“Stay here.” She had only seconds to admire his tight ass before Colin jerked on a pair of jeans. His stare shot to the clock.

“Whoever that is had better have a damn good reason for being here at 6 A.M.”

Six o’clock. That meant they’d gotten a grand total of three hours’ worth of sleep.

Emily pulled the sheet over her breasts. She wasn’t sure where her clothes were. Maybe still in the den? And where were her glasses?

Colin stomped out of the room. She heard the click of the lock, then, “What the hell are you doing here, Brooks?”

Emily frowned and inched to the edge of the bed.

“Where’s Dr. Drake?”

Her gaze scanned the room. The closet. She hurried across the floor, her toes tingling at the contact with the cold wood. She grabbed one of his shirts, pulling it quickly over her head. Luckily, the T-shirt fell to the middle of her thighs so she wouldn’t be flashing Colin’s partner.

“She’s here, isn’t she?” Brooks’s voice rose. “Dr. Drake, I need to talk to you. Now.”

She blinked. He sounded pissed. What’s wrong with him? Sure, she might have accidentally shoved him last night when she’d been locked on the killer, but that was hardly any reason for him to be an—

“Watch your tone, Brooks.”

“You’re the one who needs to watch what he’s doing, partner. You’re screwing this woman and you don’t even know—”

Emily shot down the hallway, found Colin glaring nose to nose at Brooks. “What’s going on here?”

Brooks glanced toward her, eyes narrowed. “You tell me.”

Emily shook her head. “Look, it’s too early for me to play some dumb-ass guessing game with you.”

“Where were you last night between eight and ten P.M.?”

“What?” No, no way had that too-pretty, GQ wannabe just asked her for an alibi. “Why do you want to know?”

“I just spent the last three hours breaking apart Darla’s hard drive.” He cocked a brow. “Wanna know what I found?”

Serenity Woods.

“Back off, Brooks.” Colin didn’t raise his voice. The utter coldness of his tone cut through the room.

Comprehension widened Brooks’s eyes. “You knew, didn’t you? You knew and you didn’t tell me.”

“Cause there’s nothing to tell. Darla had her facts wrong about Emily.”

“Oh?” Brooks stepped away from Colin. Paced to her side. His gaze swept over her body. Returned to her face. “So she’s not crazy? She wasn’t admitted to a juvie psychiatric ward when she was eleven because she was seeing monsters?”

Emily lifted her chin. “She is right in front of you. And, no, I’m not crazy. I’m completely, perfectly sane.”

“Umm, you just see monsters. But other than that little oddity, you’re completely normal.”

“Stop being a dick, Brooks.” Colin positioned his body in front of her. “Emily, go get dressed.”

“No.” She’d be damned if she’d skulk away while the boy blunder called her a nutcase. “I think I need to clear up a few points with your partner here.”

Colin looked over his shoulder, his jaw clenched. “Fine.” He turned back to Brooks. Jabbed his finger into his chest. “But if your eyes drop one more time, I’m knocking you out. Partner or not.”

Emily crossed her arms over her chest. Tapped her foot. “I don’t know what you found on her computer, but Darla’s facts were wrong. I’m not now nor have I ever been”—her back teeth ground together as she gritted—“crazy.” No, she just saw monsters.

But the monsters were real.

“A story like that, it would have ruined your practice.”

Doubtful. Emily snorted. It probably would have just given her more business. It would have been as close to advertising for Other patients as she could get. “It wouldn’t have effected me.”

“Bullshit.”

Colin rolled his shoulders, narrowed his eyes. “Watch it.”

“Darla was going to ruin your career, tell the world about the little girl who’d hallucinated, whose mom sent her to a psych ward because she didn’t want a crazy kid.”

Emily stepped forward, punched her finger in his chest. “Listen up, Brooks. I told you already, I’m not crazy. Darla’s story wouldn’t have done a damn thing to my career because the story would never have run. She didn’t have any facts to back up her wild ideas, okay?” Oh, the man was starting to royally piss her off.

She didn’t want a crazy kid.

That hit just a little too close to home.

And it made her even angrier. “I don’t have to listen to any more of this crap. I’m working this case with you, Detective. I didn’t kill Darla Mitchell.”

“Then tell me where you were between 8 and 10.”

“At. My. Mother’s. 2801 Terrace Lane. Check it out. Go ask her. Interview her neighbors. I’m sure someone saw me.”

He pulled out a small notebook. Scribbled something down. The address, no doubt. Asshole.

“Now if you’re done interrogating me, I’m going to shower.” Before she gave into the impulse rushing through her and slugged him.

Being accused of ripping out a reporter’s throat first thing in the morning had sure screwed up her mood.

Emily didn’t wait for him to answer. She spun on her heel and stormed from the room.

The bathroom door slammed.

Colin stared at his partner, shook his head. “What the hell were you thinking?”

Very carefully, Brooks folded his notebook. Tucked it in his jacket pocket. “I was thinking we have a murder to solve and that your girlfriend has a hell of a motive.”

“Two murders,” Colin corrected, trying hard to keep the anger out of his voice. “Two murders with the exact MO. What, you think Emily had a motive for offing Preston too?”

“I think she’s linked to him. I haven’t connected the pieces yet, but I will.”

“What? The doc had nothing to do—”

“Her place was trashed last night, wasn’t it? Just like Gillian Nemont’s.”

Exactly like Gillian’s.

“What are the odds of that?” Brooks asked quietly. “What are the odds that both Dr. Drake’s place and Gillian’s would get trashed?”

Colin didn’t reply. Cause he’d been wondering the same thing.

“I think she’s holding out on us. She knows something, or else—”

“Or else what?”

“She’s involved.”

Shit. “You saw the bodies. There’s no way Emily could have done that.” No, she’d been horrified when she’d seen the victims and the blood.

“The facts aren’t adding up. Not one damn bit.” Brooks began pacing around the room. “The case smells to high heaven. And I know, I know I’m being kept in the dark.” He rounded on Colin. “And I don’t like it.”

Colin glared right back at him. “And I don’t like it when my partner comes here at dawn and starts harassing my lover.”

“I don’t trust her.”

I do. “No one’s asked you to.”

“I’m checking out her alibi. You coming with me or not?”

“Right now, not.” Hell, his eyes were still sandy from sleep. And Emily was pissed, and in the shower, naked.

But he had a fucking job to do, and on this case he couldn’t afford to have anyone questioning his motives. Or his lover’s. “Give me an hour. I’ll meet you at the station.” He’d have to clear Emily so that Brooks would drop this lame-ass theory.

Brooks jerked his head in agreement, turned toward the door.

Colin caught his arm in a steely grip. He figured Emily should be proud of him; he’d held onto his cool a good fifteen minutes. “Not so fast, partner.” He applied just enough pressure to grind bones.

“What the he—”

“Don’t ever fucking come to my house and rip into my woman that way again, you understand me?” He didn’t let up on the pressure, not for one minute.

Brooks tried to jerk away. Colin just tightened his grip. “I asked if you understood.” He’d hate to break the guy’s arm, but he had a point to make.

Don’t mess with Emily.

“I’m doing my job. Our job.” Moisture appeared above Brooks’s upper lip. “I have to check her out.”

Yeah, but it was more than that. He’d seen Brooks check out hundreds of suspects before, and he’d never had the tight rage in his voice that he’d had when he confronted Emily. Understanding dawned. “You don’t like her, do you?”

“I don’t trust her.”

Colin eased his grip. He’d deliberately reached for his partner’s left arm. No sense putting his shooting hand out of commission.

“You don’t have to trust her.”

“You shouldn’t either. There’s something about her…it’s just…off.” When Colin’s hold lightened, Brooks managed to jerk his arm free. “Don’t let the fact that she’s a good piece of ass screw up your head, Gyth. She’s got secrets, and those secrets could be deadly.”

He wrenched open the door, stalked into the bright morning light.

Colin watched him leave, watched as he revved his small sports car and spun out of the drive.

Brooks was getting drawn deeper and deeper into the Butcher case, and the guy was a good detective.

There was a chance he could find out the truth.

How would he handle it?

The guy seemed certain that Emily was a threat. How would he feel if he learned the true danger came from his own partner?

You fucking freak! I’ll kill you! I’ll kill you!

He rolled his right shoulder. Been there, done that. He hoped there wouldn’t be a repeat performance this time around.

He shut the front door, heard the faint spray of water from the shower.

His head tilted at the sound, and an image of Emily, her pale body glistening with water, filled his mind.

Hmmm. He’d told Brooks he’d meet him in an hour.

More than enough time…

The warm water slid over her skin. Ah, God, it felt good. Emily tilted her head beneath the spray, letting the water soak her hair.

Steam rose around her, light, foggy tendrils that drifted in the air. She turned back around—

And saw the outline of a man’s body through the distorted glass of the shower door.

Her heart beat faster, faster—

Colin pulled open the door. He was naked. And aroused.

Emily swallowed. Forced her gaze to lift. “I-is your partner gone?”

“Umm.” His own gaze swept down her body, lingering on her breasts, the dark hair at the juncture of her thighs.

He stepped into the shower, closed the door with a soft click behind him.

“H-he’s wrong, you know. I didn’t have anything to do with Darla’s murder.”

He pressed his fingertip against her lips. “I know.”

The water poured over them in a warm, steady stream.

Emily opened her mouth. Her tongue snaked out, licked the tip of his finger.

His pupils flared in hungry response.

She drew his finger into her mouth, swirling her tongue around him and sucking softly.