Midnight’s Master (Midnight #3)(20)
Author: Cynthia Eden

"What the hell are you involved in?"

She bit her lip. Demon business. Did Mac know? The guy was sharp, the sharpest she’d ever met. Surely he’d realized what was happening around him. She wanted to ask him-

"Are you in trouble?" Quieter.

"I don’t-I was at the station, okay? I wasn’t there when he-" Was carved up. No. "The cops pulled me in to identify Sam’s body." She would not think about that scene again. It was bad enough that the images kept slipping into her dreams.

"Do they think you’re a suspect?"

Fair question. "Maybe."

More intense staring.

She would not squirm. "Their deaths are linked, Mac, no getting around it. Someone’s out there, hunting these men-and no matter what the cops think, it’s not me. " Or Niol. "I want to run this story, see if I can-"

"Scare someone," he finished, rubbing his chin.

"Yes."

"You scare the wrong person, you might just find yourself in a killer’s sights."

I know. "These men deserve justice."

"That’s for the cops." Now his fingertips tapped on the arm of the chair. The guy moved a lot when he was in his deep-think mode.

"They’re looking in the wrong place for this guy. The trail’s gonna get cold. I want to go on the air."

"With what? We’ve already covered the killings-"

But they hadn’t covered the link between the two men. They hadn’t been able to talk about the vicious attacks, the mutilation. "Just let me run with this. Schedule me a slot and let me run." Her voice wasn’t desperate. Okay, maybe it was.

He exhaled. "The cops haven’t talked to the media yet."

No, and they weren’t planning to have a chat fest. She knew the PD wanted to bury this story, and it was an easy bury. Not like the high-profile killings that had plagued the city months before.

A shiver slid over her.

The office down the hall waited, empty and silent, because of those killings. The door always stayed shut. Just walking past that locked door gave her the creeps.

"Get ’em to give you a statement, on camera, and you can run any damn place you want with this story."

A smile broke her lips. "Thanks, Mac!" Sure, getting the interview would be a bitch, but she’d played nice with the cops-now it was their turn to play nice with her. "You won’t regret this-"

"Better not."

A knock on the door frame.

Her head tilted. "Kim? What is it?"

One of the interns stood in the doorway, a manila envelope in her hand. Pretty, tall, slim, and only twenty-two, Kim was one that Holly knew had an eye out for her future.

"This was dropped off at the front desk for you." She stepped forward, the envelope outstretched. "I don’t even remember when it was delivered-sorry, Holly. I think it might have gotten misplaced. It was under some papers…"

Holly took the envelope. "It’s all right." Why was her stomach knotting? Her fingers trembling just the faintest bit?

Because there wasn’t a return address on the envelope. Just her name, scrawled across the front in big, loopy letters-a script she’d seen before.

Her index finger slid under the top flap and jerked back. She felt the sting of a paper cut, saw the well of blood, but kept ripping anyway.

Then the picture fell into her hands.

Niol, sitting in his SUV, watching her walk in front of the headlights.

A piece of paper fluttered onto her desk.

The impure will die.

"Holly?" Mac jumped to his feet. "What’s wrong?"

She was supposed to go live in less than an hour.

Can’t.

Holly grabbed the photo and slip of paper-and shoved them back into the envelope. Her index finger pulsed. "I’ve got to leave, Mac."

Kim was in the doorway now, shifting from her left foot to her right. Her black hair fluttered around her shoulders. "Everything okay, Ms. Storm?" Her blue eyes were wide.

No. "Get me the security tapes from today. Have them waiting on me when I get back. I want to know exactly who left this envelope." If the bastard’s face was on the tape, she’d have him.

The impure will die.

Whoever the sick freak was, he knew just what Niol was.

"Holly?" Mac demanded again.

But she was already grabbing her bag and brushing past him. "Mac, I swear, I wouldn’t do this if-" It wasn’t a matter of life and death. "Run the footage from yesterday’s interview-okay? It’ll cover my time."

"What the hell?"

"I-I have to go." She fumbled for her cell phone. Dialed the number Niol had given her. Listened to the relentless ring.

Die.

"I have to go…" She repeated even as the voice mail picked up. Then she was running into the hallway and muttering into the phone, "Niol, when you get this message-watch your ass! You’d better-"

The damn thing disconnected.

Her heels rapped against the tiled floor. She shuddered when she passed the locked door on the left.

And Holly realized she couldn’t get to her demon fast enough.

There was a line leading into the club, a long snaking line full of men and women, some folks dressed up, some in tattered jeans. It was Friday night, and though it was still way early by party standards-not even ten-it looked like folks were ready for a wild ride in Paradise.

Holly passed the line and headed straight for the doors-

And was brought up short by a giant with tattoos swirling over his body.

"And just where do you think you’re goin’, princess?" His hand landed heavily on her shoulder.

Behind her, she heard muttering, and caught a woman’s voice loud and sharp, yelling, "That bitch knows there’s a line!"

She ignored the crowd and focused on the bouncer. Really, really big bouncer. The muscles of his arms were so big they looked like they were in danger of bursting. And, Jesus, what was the guy? Like seven foot?

Holly rolled her shoulders, dislodging his hand. The giant raised a brow and pointed toward the end of that long, long line. "At the end, princess."

No way. "I need to see Niol."

The lines around the guy’s eyes tightened, just a bit. "You and everyone else."

She rocked on her heels. "Don’t you guys have a list or something? Check it. Niol gave me a pass in here, anytime I want." Okay, not really, but he should have. The cover story had been his idea and surely the guy had bothered to tell his muscle that his girlfriend would be dropping by-

"Oh, we’ve got a list." A smaller man with greasy black hair sidled up to him. His nostrils flared, and he said, "Tell us your name and-"