by ML Guida
He stepped closer. “Do it. Or I’ll do it for you.”
Hoss would like to see him try, but Topaz would be less than pleased if he cut loose on these two security jerks.
He reluctantly removed the belt and handed it to Johnson, who put it into a plastic bag.
“You’ll get your little superheroes belt back when you make bail,” he said.
Hoss realized that they thought the weapons were fake, which would hopefully save their lives. Otherwise, they could zap themselves into oblivion.
Johnson tossed the plastic bag roughly onto the counter.
Hoss winced. “Be careful with those.”
“Sure, Batman.”
Hoss clutched his fists and pressed them to his side to keep from slugging the arrogant officer.
He was finger printed. He smiled to himself, because his prints would not match any human––unless they had dragon shifters on Earth. Once again, he was photographed. He didn’t understand why the humans needed so many photos of him.
He was led through the station, booked, and put in a dreary cell. The large cell had a couple of metal benches, a stained urinal, and steel bars that pressed against a scratched, Plexiglas window. Sunlight struggled to penetrate the caked-on dirt.
But it was his fellow roommates that caught his attention––a scrawny, wiry man, two blood-shot eyed men, who by their smell had drenched themselves in alcohol, and a muscle bound one, who kept cracking his knuckles––definitely Arvada’s rejects.
The knuckle-cracker sauntered over to Hoss and flickered his gaze over him, as if he were sizing him up. He stood a couple of inches shorter than Hoss and obviously thought he was a bad-ass. “What are you in here for?”
“Attacking a police officer.”
He cracked his neck. “Think you’re tough, do ya?”
The others watched warily, as if afraid of what the man would do, and quickly went to the other side of the cell.
Hoss met his hostile gaze. “I don’t want any trouble.”
“Then, you should have thought about it before you came here––pretty boy.”
He’d been called many things, but pretty boy? Never been called that. What an idiot.
The man swung and Hoss easily caught his meaty fist with one hand. The man’s eyes widened in surprise. Hoss forced him down onto his knees. “Now, was that very nice?”
He beat on Hoss’s arm. “You’re breaking my hand.”
Hoss roughly shoved him away. “Then, keep your mitts to yourself.”
“Asshole.” Luckily, the man hobbled to another seat, cradling his hand against his chest, while the other three stayed huddled in the corner, whispering among themselves.
Hoss sat on the bench staring at the pitiful bars. They’d be so easy to melt or break in half. However, escape was out of the question, since it violated the prime directive of keeping their existence a secret.
Irritating diplomats! His people’s only means of survival was at risk. Could he convince the stubborn Confederation that Zalarians would die if he didn’t break through the cell? Highly doubtful.
The Confederation would have insisted he try a more peaceful approach.
He sighed heavily. All he could do was wait.
Minutes turned into hours.
His roommates dozed or paced back and forth in the cell except for the tough guy, who held his wrist to his chest. Hoss didn’t feel sorry for him. He was a jerk-off and, from the shiny bruise on one of the red blurry-eyed men, Hoss assumed he’d been one of his victims.
He remained seated, trying to be patient, but failed miserably. He bounced his leg incessantly, drawing the scowl of the wounded man, who was smart enough to keep his mouth shut.
Hoss couldn’t stop worrying about Agnes and Daidhl. If someone didn’t let him out of here soon, he’d be doing a lot of explaining to the Confederation.
Footsteps echoed across the tile floor. He held his breath as he moved his leg a mile-a-minute. A guard unlocked the door. “Anonghos?”
“Yeah.”
“Come with me.”
He exhaled slowly. The others looked up and murmured. He thought he heard the word interrogation.
Hope soared inside him that Agnes would be waiting for him. He hurried over to the guard.
“Turn around and put your hands behind your back.”
Hoss obeyed, letting the puny handcuffs be clamped onto his wrists. The guard led him away from the depressing cell and his derelict roommates.
He was escorted to a small room with a table and a few chairs.
He unlocked Hoss’s handcuffs.
“Sit in the chair.”
Hoss complied dutifully. The guard re-chained one of his wrists to a large metal hoop drilled into the table that he could easily break and blow his cover, but he played the good prisoner.
“Detective Malloy will be with you shortly.” He quietly exited, leaving Hoss alone.
She was coming. His knee jumped up and down repeatedly, smacking the table. He wished he had a free hand to put on his knee to steady it, because his knee had a mind of its own.
Stay calm. Stay calm.
He gazed at a gigantic, dark window that covered one wall. With his dragon eyes, he could see that it wasn’t a window, but a one-way mirror. Men were behind the mirror, but unfortunately, his curvy mate wasn’t with them.
The door opened. Any hope that she would listen to him vanished. Her angry face would have frozen Zalara.
She shut the door and slid in the chair across from him. She had dark circles underneath her angry eyes, as if like him, she’d hadn’t slept.
“There’s been another murder.”
“When? Where?”
“Downtown. Outside the movie theater. She was on her way home after watching a movie with her friends. Throat slit, nearly decapitating her just like the last one. Her tongue was cut out of her mouth, and she’s missing her liver. Care to speculate?”
He grimaced. “Bastard.”
“I want you to listen to me very carefully. I’m the lead investigator on this case, and I want answers.” She stood and leaned across the table. “Tell me about your partner.”
He needed her to trust him. “I don’t have a partner,” he said softly. “I’m not a murderer.”
He caught a whiff of her feminine scent that inflamed his need to mate with her. He struggled to concentrate on what she was saying and fought against the ancient urges to take a mate. Her finger brushed against his, and another shock zapped through his blood stream, teasing his dragon. An image formed in his mind of her running her smooth hand over his tense muscles.
She snatched back her hand and rubbed it as if it hurt, but luckily there wasn’t a blemish on it.
“I want answers.”
Her serious tone immediately reminded him of Topaz, who was fiercely protective of his crew and ship. Anyone stalking his crew would have find themselves facing a fierce enemy.
Agnes was no different. She wanted to save those women.
The door opened. A tall woman with curly brown hair wearing a blue suit and holding a briefcase entered. Her heels clicked across the floor.
Agnes groaned, as if her worst enemy had entered the room.
“Interrogation’s over, Agnes. I want to have time alone with my client.”
“Hi, Kathy. How’s it going?”
“Same as always, but enough with the pleasantries. If you’ll excuse us…Unless, of course, you plan on charging him.”
Agnes didn’t look at her, but flashed him a scowl that burned up his soul. “No. We don’t have enough evidence…yet.” She folded her arms and smiled at Kathy. “But you already knew this, didn’t you?”
Kathy winked. “Of course.”
Hoss stiffened. “I’m telling you I didn’t do it.”
“Not another word.” Kathy put her brief case on the table, then opened it. “Do you mind, Agnes?”
She motioned with her hand. “He’s all yours.”
Once again, her spicy feminine scent te
ased his dragon. He wanted to grab her delicate hand and suck every slender finger until she was panting for more. He drew on his self-control, shoving his passion back. His whole body shook. Damn it. His mating instincts were growing stronger every time he was near Agnes.
Remember the mission.
She quietly opened the door and left.
“Kathy Strong.” The dark-haired woman handed him a small card. “You’re Anonghos, correct?”
“Yes, but I go by Hoss.”
“Okay, Hoss. You didn’t admit to anything, did you?”
Hoss shook his head. “No. I didn’t do anything.”
“Good, then based on their flimsy case, I should be able to get you out in less than two hours.” Concern filled her eyes. “Are you all right? Your face is ashen, and you’re sweating.”
“I’m fine,” he lied.
“Don’t worry,” she said, obviously not believing him. “Everything will be fine.”
Kathy Strong had no idea how wrong she was, but she was damn good. She actually got him released in an hour and a half. He walked out of the police station a free man with the stipulation he stay away from Detective Malloy. A stipulation he definitely planned to break.
4
Kill. Kill. Kill.
Daidhl licked his lips. The woman, Laura Nybo, came out of the yoga studio––her face glistened with a shine, her top hung loosely over shoulders, and her pants hugged defined legs. Her red hair was clipped into a neat bun, and she had a yellow scarf around her neck. She slipped into her car. Attractive, but she was a human, and a designated mate for one of those Zalarians.
Today she would die.
The Kamtrinians wanted all of the designated mates wiped out, so the Zalarians would die. But they weren’t the only ones who wanted the humans dead. One of his own kind had been murdered by mere humans. Revenge would be his––sweet and savage.
He started the motorcycle and grinned at the sound––a dragon’s growl. The name of every mate, their address, and how they would perish were engraved on his black heart. He licked his lips, and shuddered with anticipation of listening to their screams. But tonight would be Laura. Would she gasp, scream, shriek, or freeze? The guesses nearly drove him to attack now.
But he was patient. He could wait.
Laura parked her car in front of her building, then headed to her apartment, which was on the fourth floor. A security guard was in the front of the lobby, and the door was locked. She probably felt safe, but he’d no intention of going through the front door.
No, he’d be waiting for her.
He carefully parked his precious blue motorcycle away from the other cars. If anyone nicked it, they’d wished they’d never been born. He walked over to a nearby tree, spread his arms wide, then closed his eyes, drawing on his power. His body tingled. He dropped his arms and changed into a dragon, his bones crunching, and his muscles stretching and constricting. Wings flared out, and smoke puffed out of his nostrils.
He easily flew up to the balcony and waited for his prey.
From the balcony he could see through the living room to the bedroom. Keys jingled, and he smiled. Laura quickly shut the door, then locked it. She tossed her keys onto a dusty coffee table. She entered the bedroom where clothes, books, and magazines were scattered across the floor. Blankets sat crumpled on the bed. She shut another a door that he suspected led to a bathroom.
He transformed into his human form, then he grabbed the handle and pulled. The glass door was locked, but that wasn’t a problem. He drew on his dragon strength, then yanked. A crack ran up and down the lock, then the glass shattered into the shape of a sparkling star. He easily walked through it, and shards flew across the carpet.
“Oh, shit!” Laura raced out of the room, only wearing a bath robe. She wrinkled her nose. “What’s that smell?”
“You’ll pay for that remark.”
She stopped and took a couple steps back. The terror in her eyes made him moan in greedy expectation. He inhaled. Her fear smelled like dead crumpled leaves.
Her eyes widened. “Who are you? How did you get in here?”
He gestured with his arm. “Isn’t it obvious?”
Rather than cowering with terror, she glared. “Get out, or I’ll scream.”
“No, you won’t.” He pulled out his machete, then rushed her, ready to slice her throat.
He expected her to run, but she swung. His blade sliced through her arm, blood squirting into the room. She screamed. He punched her in the throat, immediately silencing her annoying shriek. Tears welled in her terrified eyes, but she didn’t turn tail and run. She kneed him in the groin.
He snarled, then raised the blade. He swung.
She held up her palms. The blade easily cut through her flesh. Blood gushed from the wounds onto her fluffy white bathrobe, then onto the floor. She staggered, lowering her hands for a fraction of second before the blade slashed across her throat, nearly decapitating her. She collapsed onto the floor, dead.
Killing her wasn’t enough. He wanted terror.
He wiped the drenched blade onto her robe, then lay it across her gut. He lifted her left arm and placed it across her left breast. He spread her legs wide and bent her knees so her bare feet were resting on the ground.
A message needed to be sent to the Zalarians that mating with these women would not ensure their survival. He’d murder their mates one-by-one.
He picked up the blade, and in a few quick cuts, removed her womb. He turned her head so she could watch him leave. He wrapped her womb up in a towel from her kitchen.
Drawing on his power, he turned invisible to wait for the person who would find Laura so he could feed on their horror.
5
In the last few days, Agnes Malloy had only slept for five hours. Weariness spilled into every muscle, turning her legs and arms into lead. Her gut twisted into a half a dozen knots. She rubbed the bridge between her tired eyes, trying to stay focused. Her body needed sleep, but she didn’t have that luxury––not with a blood-thirsty killer on the loose. How could she grab a couple of z’s with two grisly murders?
Not only did she have a murderer to catch, but she had a stalker. Or at least she thought she did. Anonghos or Hoss, had been released a couple of days ago, and she’d swore she saw him in the police parking lot lurking in the shadows and at a fast food diner where she and Tom had wolfed down greasy hamburgers and fries.
But when she approached him, he’d vanished. She couldn’t vouch it was him. Without definite proof, she was dead in the water.
She sat in the conference room with Tom and Captain Morgan, going over the autopsy and witness reports. The glaring and buzzing overhead light hurt her eyes, the constant noise driving her nuts.
She examined her hand again for the thirteenth time. When she brushed up against Hoss, a shock had zapped her. The shock had actually burned, but there wasn’t the slightest mark. He must have felt the same sensation too, because he’d jolted back.
But it was the images of dragons, spaceships, stars, and a dark gaseous cloud flashing in her mind that bothered her, making her think she was losing her mind. Sometimes when she touched people she’d get a glimpse of their life, which always gave her a clue about them––especially suspects. The visions of their childhood or friends gave her a place to start building a case and finding evidence.
But those peeks had always been real.
With Hoss, she saw a flock of dragons flying past two suns. No way was that real. Her lack of sleep was playing tricks on her, or maybe she’d seen one too many Lord of the Ring movies.
She tossed a paper down on the table. “These add up to zip.”
Tom put down a report and sneered. “Your instincts not working?”
Agnes gritted her teeth. She was too tired to battle with him. Thanks to Frank, she was constantly having to prove that she was a good, investigative cop and not relying on unworldly abilities to solve cases.
“No.” She leaned her head back on the chair and stared up
at the ceiling, trying to block the strange images from racing through her mind. This was ridiculous. What was it about Hoss?
Detective Matt Hill entered the conference room, holding a report in his hand. “Like you requested, Captain, I ran a super fast DNA test on Hoss’s fingerprints.” He had a puzzled look on his face. “I have had suspects’ fingerprints not be recognizable due to severe burns or injury or old age or manual labor or even taking certain medications, but I’ve never seen anything like this. He must have had worn some kind of invisible barrier on his fingertips that fooled the computers.”
“Why?” Tom demanded. He ripped the paper out of Matt’s hand and scanned the report. “I’ll be damned.” His voice turned low, and the blood drained from his face.
The Captain looked between Matt and Tom. “One of you better tell me what the report says.”
Tingles slid up Agnes’s spine, and she shivered. She knew what they were going to say. She didn’t want to hear it, didn’t want to see it, didn’t want to believe it.
Tom and Matt glanced warily at each other, but then Matt blurted, “It wasn’t human.”
Crap! Agnes broke out in a sleek sweat. For once, her ability had to be wrong. It had to be.
The Captain raised his eyebrow. “Excuse me? What do you mean the prints aren’t human?”
Matt shrugged. “I’m not sure exactly, Captain. All I can say is that the criminal database must be on the fritz.”
“What the devil did it say?” The captain’s voice rose two octaves, which was never good. “The mayor’s furious and the press is breathing down my neck, saying we’ve got a serial killer.”
Tom slowly handed the report to the captain. “The report says reptilian.”
Agnes shuddered. All she could think about was the dragon image that kept rolling over her mind––a black dragon with a green stripe that ran from the tip of its nose down to its tail, to be exact.
“This is ridiculous.” Tom ran his hand through his hair, making strands stand straight up.
“What does it mean,” the captain snapped.
Matt shrugged. “It means the computer could only recognize reptilian as not human, but the database couldn’t recognize the specific species.”