Chapter Three
Con didn’t touch, but he did study the dead guy. After scrutinizing every laceration and contusion, he bent forward, his nose near the jagged tear in the neck.
The skin between Con’s eyes pulled tight. He straightened, taking a breath of fresh air. Again, he leaned over and sniffed.
Interesting.
“What chemicals do you use on the bodies?” he asked.
“Germicidal soap and water.”
“May I smell the solution?”
“Sure.”
He led Con to a station and supplies, where he opened an industrial-sized plastic container and stuck it under Con’s nose.
He took a whiff. “Thanks.”
The sound of the door opening captured Con’s attention.
“What the fuck!” said the female storming toward them, her boots clicking on the concrete floor. “You should have waited for me.”
“Good luck,” whispered the assistant, scurrying off to do ... something.
The female was tall, nearly six feet, dressed in black pants and a blazer.
Ankle boots with sensible heels finished off her wardrobe.
Her auburn hair was pulled into a severe knot at the back of her neck.
Very ... manly. The body in the clothes was anything but masculine.
She was tucked in at the waist and flared at the hips.
Though she tried to hide her breasts, the attempt failed. She was feminine without trying.
A growl formed in his chest, but he buried it there, not liking his response to the female. His heart skipped a beat, and his cock stirred. To his feral wolf, she was prey.
A lazy smile slid onto his face. “I’m your new partner, Conall.”
Her eyes rested on him a moment too long, widening.
He was a male accustomed to admiring stares. And he sensed her reaction. Her pulse sped up, her breathing stuttered, and her lips parted. Then, she recovered, narrowing her gaze, uncomfortable with her response to him.
“You should have waited for me.” Her eyes focused on his chest, where she again paused, her breath hitching. And her scent screamed interest.
“Why?” He’d shown up before the scheduled meeting time for a reason. He wanted time to examine the body without his new partner around.
“Because we’re partners.”
“Have you seen the DB yet?” he asked, staring at her breasts.
She hesitated and adjusted her jacket as if it could hide her abundant wealth. “Yes.”
“So you started without me.” When she glared, he added, “I was just playing catch-up.”
Exhaling loudly, she blew a wisp of hair off her face. Her fists jerked to her hips.
Apparently, Con had stepped on her lovely toes. He had feathers to smooth.
“What are you?” she blurted out.
He bit back a snarl because of the way she’d asked the question. She deserved his answer. “Your worst nightmare. Your wettest dream, love.”
She frowned. “My question may have been vague.” She paused. “Or rude. What breed are you?”
“Wolf shifter. And your name would be?” He used his most syrupy voice.
She held out a hand, offering to shake, her nails short and as sensible as her boots. “Reyna. Just call me Rey. And I don’t like being called love, babe, doll, or any other demeaning term.”
He grasped her palm, holding onto it until she squirmed. “Just call me Con.” He stroked a thumb over the back of her hand. “Love.”
She freed herself, almost wiping the palm on her pants.
The action was telling. Either she didn’t like him, or she liked him too much. He voted for too much.
She motioned toward the refrigerated drawer containing the body. “What do you think?” she asked, moving in its direction, trying to gain control of their relationship.
It was an admirable effort, but wolf shifters didn’t relinquish control.
When the morgue assistant rejoined them, Rey nodded at him.
Con stood on the opposite side of the dead male. “I can’t smell anything.”
“Come again?” she asked.
He tapped his nose. “Wolf. Great sniffer. I was checking to see if the killer was a vampire, shifter, or human. Can’t tell.”
“You can’t smell anything?”
“No. I smell something. Somebody used bleach on the body. The killer.”
“Why would they do that?”
“To mask the scent. Of course, that would point to an Aeternal. Or to a human who wanted this to look as if one of the breeds did the crime.”
“Can you tell anything by the marks on the throat?” She clasped her hands behind her back.
Con leaned closer, examining the mess at the guy’s neck. “If the killer was an Aeternal, they’re a messy eater.” When she wrinkled her nose, he grinned. “Could have been a vamp or some kind of shifter. Maybe a very violent berserker. Or a clever human with a wicked knife. Too soon to tell.”
“Anything else?”
“Nope. Just normal contusions and lacerations. Nothing spectacular.”
She straightened, letting her arms fall to the side. “Ronnie, when will the autopsy be conducted?”
“We’re behind. As soon as possible. Pushing won’t help.”
“Let me know.”
“Always.”
Ronnie shoved the drawer into place while Con continued to study his new partner. She was a beautiful female who hid her assets in order to be one of the guys, but he saw through the disguise. She tried to appear more confident than she was and liked to be in control.
“Let’s go to my precinct in Tribeca, and I’ll review the case with you.”
She rushed out the swinging door. Con followed her into the elevator, out the front, and to the subway, where thousands of New Yorkers surrounded them. Wasn’t this fun?
No.
Getting off the train, they took the steps to Second Avenue. At street level, she pointed east. “Only a couple of minutes.”
She charged off, but he adjusted his backpack and caught up. She definitely wanted to be top dog and first in line for chow. Just what Con loved. A challenge. He was here to help solve a murder. Nothing said he couldn’t get laid, too.
When he grabbed her elbow to steer her around a rough patch in the sidewalk, she shook him off.
“Thanks,” she said, “but I’ve been walking for years. Don’t need any help.”
He laughed, loving a female with spirit, especially one who would be difficult to bag. No doubt about it, Detective Rey heightened his predator-prey instinct. This assignment might be better than expected. Or it would shove his wolf over the edge.
Con wanted to trap her, unpin her hair, strip off her manly pants, and sink his cock into her. He didn’t think that was what Commander Nace had meant when he said, “Play nice.” But the words were open to interpretation.
When he growled, Rey stumbled. He latched onto her arm again so that she didn’t fall on her ass when she looked at him, his canines showing.
“What’s the growl for?” she asked, jerking away from him.
“Just happens sometimes. Ignore it.” He didn’t share that it was because of his aggressive wolf. He was here to do a job. Instead of focusing on it, a sensible female cop was distracting him.
A part of him recoiled at the feral beast who was clawing beneath his skin. He’d have to leash his beast, or he’d be fucking Rey before the mission was over. Of that, Con was sure.
The closer his beast stepped to the edge, the more it rolled in prurient desires—killing, sex, torture. The more it acted on them.