Dead Sexy (2 page)

"I'll call you next week," Flynn said with a wink.

Regan nodded, then moved away from the scene so the forensic boys could get to work. It gave her an edgy feeling, being in the park after the sun went down, though she supposed there were enough cops in the area to keep her reasonably safe from the monsters. At any rate, it felt good to be part of a criminal investigation again, good to feel needed. Still, she couldn't help feeling guilty that she would be out of work in a heartbeat as soon as they caught the killer.

She remembered the first time the department had requested her expertise. Even now, years later, the thought made her wince with embarrassment. After all the classes she had taken at the Police Academy, she had been convinced she was prepared for anything, but no amount of training could have prepared her for the reality of seeing that first fresh vampire kill. At the Academy, the bodies had been dummies and, while they had been realistic, they hadn't come close to the real thing. Regan had turned away and covered her mouth, trying in vain to keep her dinner down. It had been Michael who had come to her aid, who had offered her a handkerchief and assured her that it happened to everyone sooner or later. They had been friends from that night forward.

Now, she stood in the shadows, watching two men wearing masks and gloves slip the body into a black plastic bag for the trip to the morgue while the forensic team tagged and bagged possible evidence from the scene. Maybe they would get lucky downtown, but she didn't think so. She had a hunch that whoever had perpetrated the crime knew exactly what he was doing and that whatever evidence he had left behind, if any, would be useless.

Regan watched the ambulance pull away from the curb. Once the body had been thoroughly examined, the medical examiner would take the necessary steps to ensure that the corpse didn't rise as a new vampire tomorrow night. She didn't envy him the job, but if there was one thing the city didn't need, it was another vampire.

Regan was jotting down a few notes when she felt a shiver run down her spine. Not the "gee, it's cold outside" kind of shiver but the "you'd better be careful, there's a monster close by" kind.

Making a slow turn, she peered into the darkness as every instinct for self-preservation that she possessed screamed a warning.

If he hadn't moved, she never would have seen him.

He emerged from the shadowy darkness on cat-silent feet. "Do not be afraid," he said. "I mean you no harm."

His voice was like thick molasses covered in dark chocolate, so deep and sinfully rich, she could feel herself gaining weight just listening to him speak.

"Right." She slipped her hand into the pocket of her jacket, her fingers curling around the trigger of a snub-nosed pistol. She never left home without it. The gun was loaded with five silver bullets that had been dipped in holy water. The hammer rested on an empty chamber. "That's why you're sneaking up on me."

The corner of his sensual mouth lifted in a lazy half-smile. "If I wanted you dead, my lovely one, you would be dead."

Regan believed him. He spoke with the kind of calm assurance that left no room for doubt.

Joaquin Santiago moved toward her like a sleek black panther on the trail of fresh game. Supernatural power radiated from him like heat from a blast furnace. He was tall and well-muscled, with broad shoulders, strong arms, and long, long legs. In movies, vampires were usually depicted as pale and gaunt, with stringy hair and long fingernails, but there was nothing pale or gaunt about Santiago. His dusky skin and the contours of his face proudly proclaimed his Spanish and Native America heritage. He wore snug black trousers, a black silk shirt, a long black coat reminiscent of the kind cowboys had worn in the Old West, and a pair of supple black leather boots.

He looked like the angel of death come to call.

Regan took a deep breath. "Do you know who killed that man?" she asked, pleased when her voice didn't tremble. Even though she had never met Joaquin Santiago before tonight, she knew who he was. He wasn't your garden-variety vampire. Before the local Undead had been confined to You Bet Your Life Park, Santiago had been the undisputed master of the city, feared by vampires and humans alike. In person, he more than lived up to the hype that surrounded him.

"No." His answer was clipped and final.

"Well, somebody killed him, and all the outward signs point to one of your kind."

"My kind?" He lifted one black brow in an elegant gesture of disdain. "What kind would that be?"

Regan laughed. "A vampire, of course."

He shook his head. "Our kills are not so…" His gaze lingered briefly on her throat. "Messy."

She looked up at him, careful not to meet his eyes—dark blue eyes that were vibrant and direct and glowed faintly, even in the dark. Eyes that could hypnotize with a glance.

She lifted her chin a notch. "I don't know anyone else around here who would kill a man and drink him dry, do you?"

A muscle throbbed in Joaquin Santiago's jaw.

Score one for me
, Regan thought with an inner smile of satisfaction.

She tried not to stare at him, but it was difficult. He was easily the most handsome individual, man or vampire, she had ever seen. Of course, all vampires, male and female, seemed to be beautiful. It was part of their preternatural allure, but she was willing to bet that this man had been drop-dead gorgeous even before the Dark Trick had been worked upon him. Though he looked to be in his early thirties, she knew he was an old vampire, perhaps ancient. Only the old ones possessed that eerie stillness.

"This is the fourth death in the last three weeks," he remarked.

"The fourth?" She hadn't been aware there had been others.

He nodded, once, curtly.

"Were the police notified?"

"No."

"No?" she exclaimed, her voice rising with her temper. "Why not?"

"We do not need any more bad publicity."

"Publicity? Three people were killed that no one knows about, and you were worried about a little bad publicity?" She shook her head, then took a deep, calming breath. "What happened to the other bodies?"

"They were disposed of."

"Did their remains look like the one found tonight?"

Again, that precise nod.

"The murders should have been reported."

He shrugged, a graceful movement of one muscular shoulder. "The victims would be just as dead."

She couldn't argue with that. Still. "Their families need to know what happened to them."

"I fear I cannot help you. We did not check their identification."

He talked of their deaths so calmly, as if those who had been killed were of no consequence. Feeling suddenly chilled, Regan wrapped her arms around her body. Three people had died violently and their loved ones would never know what happened to them. They would be listed as missing persons, their families left to forever wonder what had become of them. It wasn't right, and there was nothing she could do about it.

"Would you like to go to Sardino's for a drink?" he asked. "You look like you could use something to warm you."

Sardino's was a restaurant located on the southeast corner of the Park. It catered to humans during the day and the Undead after dark. The restaurant had long been considered neutral territory, a place where daring humans and curious vampires could mingle without fear, if they so desired. The restaurant had two doors—one you could enter from the park and one exclusively for humans that could be accessed directly from the safety of the street beyond the park's barrier. Out of curiosity, Regan had visited Sardino's once, soon after she graduated from the Academy, but it had been too weird, seeing vampires and humans sitting together like old friends, and she had never gone back.

"I don't think so," she said. The thought of sharing a booth with him while he drank a glass of warm Synthetic Type O wasn't the least bit appealing. Besides, she was supposed to hunt and destroy vampires, not have cocktails with them.

He laughed softly. "Afraid to be seen with me, Miss…" His gaze moved to the badge pinned to the lapel of her jacket. "Miss Delaney." There was an unspoken challenge in the depths of his midnight blue eyes.

She was afraid; afraid of the effect he had on her senses, afraid of that air of male supremacy that rolled off him in waves, but she would have chewed her tongue off and swallowed it whole before she would have admitted it. She had encountered vampires before, but never one this old, or this powerful.

She was still trying to think of a suitable reply when, without a word, he was gone.

Regan glanced around, surprised to find that everyone else was gone, as well, and that she was alone in the park. Though every instinct she possessed urged her to run from the place just as fast as she could, she turned and walked sedately toward the street where she had left her car. One of the first things she had learned was that showing fear in front of a vampire, or any predator for that matter, was never a good idea.

Regan slipped her hand into her jacket pocket. She was a hunter. She was supposed to be brave. Her finger curled around the trigger. Why had she parked so far away?

She was still a good distance from the curb when she realized someone was watching her from the darkness. She glanced casually over her shoulder, expecting to see hell-red eyes staring back at her. There was no one there, but she knew she wasn't alone. Someone was following her. She heard faint, mocking laughter off to her left and she veered to the right. Fingers of cold sweat trickled down her spine.

The sense of being followed grew stronger, the eerie laughter grew louder, and suddenly she was running. If anyone saw her and thought she was afraid, well, she would just have to live with it, because they were right.

Dead right.

She had almost reached the edge of the park when, without warning, she slammed into someone. She would have screamed, only terror froze the sound in her throat. At any rate, there was no one left in the park to come to her aid.

The vampire stared down at her, close-set eyes blazing red, thin lips peeled back to reveal sharp white fangs. He looked young and strong and hungry—and she was going to be dinner. It was her own fault. Anyone who lingered in the park after sundown was fair game. But she wasn't going down without a fight. She reached for her crucifix and her gun at the same time, but before she could use either one, the master of the city materialized between her and the other vampire.

"Karl," Santiago said, "go home."

The two vampires stared at each other for a long moment. Regan could feel the animosity that hummed between them, feel their power rise in a silent battle of wills. For a moment, she was afraid there would be a fight. She glanced at her car, wondering how long it would take her to get to the curb and climb inside, because if there was one thing she didn't want to do, it was get between two angry vampires.

Several taut moments ticked into eternity and then, with a hiss, Karl vanished from sight. She knew he hadn't really vanished, only that he had moved faster than mortal eyes could follow.

"Come," Santiago said, extending his hand to her. "I will walk you to your car."

Regan stared up at him. Walk her to her car? "How can you do that? You can't leave the park."

"Can't I?"

A sudden chill tiptoed down her spine. "Can you?"

"No one tells me where to go or what to do," he said with bold arrogance. "Least of all a human girl."

"I'm not a girl," she said with asperity. "I'm a woman."

A faint smile tugged at his lips. "Go home, little girl, before the big bad wolf gobbles you up."

He didn't have to tell her twice. She was all too aware of his heated gaze on her back as he followed her to the edge of the park. He stopped where the sidewalk began.

After punching in the code to unlock the car,
Regan slid behind the wheel and quickly closed the door. Resisting the urge to look back and see if the master of the city was still watching her, she punched in the ignition code and headed for home as if Satan himself was after her.

And perhaps he was.

Regan thought about the vampire Santiago all the way home and again later, while she soaked in a hot bubble bath. He had offered to walk her to her car. She had a terrible feeling that he would have been able to do it, too, if she had agreed. But how could that be? Vampires weren't supposed to be able to pass through the invisible force field. But what if he could? And if he could, did that mean others of the Undead were also able to leave the park? Had mankind been living under a false sense of security for the last five years?

The thought made her go cold all over.

Stepping out of the tub, she wrapped up in a large fluffy towel and went into the bedroom. After drying off, she slipped into her nightgown and a warm fleece robe, then went into the kitchen. She punched hot chocolate with a splash of extra chocolate into the computer, hoping it would help her to relax. Meeting Joaquin Santiago had unsettled her far more than she cared to admit.

Though Santiago didn't look a day over thirty, it was said that he was the oldest vampire in the city, perhaps the oldest vampire in the country. He was undoubtedly the most dangerous—and certainly the most handsome, with his long black hair, dark, penetrating eyes, and muscular physique.

With a shake of her head, Regan thrust him from her mind. Curling up on the sofa, she switched on the Satellite Screen, flipping through the online guide in search of a late movie she hadn't already seen a hundred times.

For the next two hours, she managed to avoid thinking about Joaquin Santiago. But later, while she was lying in bed, he invaded her thoughts yet again, walking through the corridors of her mind, an ache that wouldn't go away.