Dog Eat Dog World: Limited Edition Bundle (Black Dog)

by Hailey Edwards

  No. I did not find him delicious. Aching fangs or not. He was a coworker, younger than me by decades, and therefore off the menu.

  “I’m not the only one,” he shot back, a grin in his voice and admiration that extended beyond my record in his heated gaze.

  My nape prickled, and I glanced away first, causing him to chuckle. He had won that round, and he knew it. Smug really shouldn’t look so good on him.

  Leaning over the body, I spotted the punctures in the same vicinity as the new victim’s injuries. Nude, she showed no signs of bruising or defensive wounds. Again, I couldn’t shake the feeling the holes were vamp made. Growing up around vampires, you get an education in all the varieties of marks left from feedings. This one fit the mold of a vampire using a lure to calm a victim as he drank her down. But two bodies drained in less than forty-eight hours? That was a lot of blood for one vampire.

  A pungent scent wafted up to me, and I bent down, sniffing near the wounds. Wrinkling my nose, I recoiled at the dried remnants of saliva from the worst case of halitosis I had ever had the bad fortune to cross. “The wounds have been swabbed for DNA?”

  “Yep. The second victim may not yield much considering her time in the water.” He cocked his head, that blasted pencil hovering over his notebook like a reporter preparing for an interview. “What are you thinking?”

  “I’m not sure,” I answered honestly. “None of it fits. Yet.”

  He put away his notebook and nodded. “Where’s your next stop?”

  “Are you…?” I gestured between us. “Are we partners on this case?”

  “I wish.” He caught himself, flushed, and my gut tightened. “What I mean is that you’re lead, and I cashed in every favor owed me to be your gofer.”

  “When you say things like that,” I admitted, “I feel like I ought to burst into song and dance to make the price of admission worth your while.”

  “You don’t dance.” He ducked his head. “At least not that I’ve read.”

  Not wanting to enter his personal space, I ventured a step closer and cleared my throat. “Jones, you seem like a smart kid—”

  “I’m not a kid. I’m twenty-eight.”

  Meaning I was two decades and change older than him even if I could still pass for mid-thirties.

  “—but you have to realize you talking about me like I’m a science project come to life makes me uncomfortable.” I risked a light touch on his elbow, and he blasted out a sharp breath like I’d punched him, eyes wide on that point of contact. “Don’t fling quotes at me. Get to know me, the real me. Okay?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “And don’t call me ma’am.” It was one thing to know I was his senior. Another to have him toss it in my face. “Call me Lena. Everyone does back home.”

  Or they did until I spent a few months drugged out of my gourd and wearing pink scrubs to bed.

  “Lena,” he said, testing the name like I had given him a gift.

  I gestured toward the corpse. “Can you get me a copy of her case file?”

  “I have one in my trunk.” Another flash of dimples creased his cheek. “I’m all about anticipating your needs.”

  Suddenly, my mouth went dry, and my gums sensitized. Horror snapped my budding fangs back into place, but Jones had noticed me having some kind of reaction. His pulse hadn’t leveled since that touch but— Damn it. I hadn’t moved my hand off him yet. I snatched it back, fingertips chilling in the cool air of the morgue.

  “I should—” I didn’t bother finishing, just started walking and left him to follow. I thanked the blonde on my way out, but it was Jones she told “You’re welcome. Come back anytime.” Like a morgue was a frickin’ pickup bar.

  After an internal shake, I brushed off my annoyance. Jones giving me a stiffy wasn’t his fault, and that didn’t entitle me to anything. Not even irritation at the blonde sliding her number into his pocket in plain sight.

  I hotfooted it back to his car, and I was waiting there when he pulled a folded paper from his pocket and crumpled what must have been the attendant’s number. He held my gaze as he tossed it in the trash bin on the curb.

  We got in, and I waited until our seat belts had clicked before saying, “You didn’t have to do that on my account.” I glimpsed the phone in his hand. “Unless you already entered her number into your phone?”

  He laughed at me, softly, a trait that was beginning to irritate. “You don’t trust easy, do you?”

  “No.” When you’ve stared death in the eye and he winked at you… “I don’t.”

  “Damn it,” he muttered under his breath. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

  “Can you take me to the hotel?” Voice tight with things remembered, I turned to face the window. “I’d like to do a little digging online and read over the case file.”

  “Your wish,” he said, gently this time. “My command.”

  Chapter 3

  The case file surrendered no new clues. A quick Google of local legends didn’t point me in a firm direction either. I searched chupacabras on the conclave’s secure database and learned more about the cryptids than I ever wanted to know. The name literally translated to “goat-sucker.” Proof they drank blood, but it was a big leap from goats and livestock to humans. Even more damning was the lack of evidence they used lures on their victims. No way had the victims been docile while a spiny-backed monster fed on them without some form of coercion involved.

  The conclave had beefed up patrols in the area where the bodies had been discovered, but I got a sick feeling we wouldn’t unravel this fast enough to stop our killer from claiming a third victim.

  A flurry of knocks startled me to attention. I shut down my laptop then rose and peeked through the peephole. Jones. In civvies. A button-down shirt open to reveal a swath of throat. Nice jeans. Casual but dressy. He wore the outfit well. So well it hit me that his earlier polish must have been to impress me. I opened the door a crack and kept my gaze from wandering. “Did you need something?”

  He shoved his hands into his pockets. “Want to join me for dinner?”

  My heart flip-flopped. “That sounds like a—”

  “Great idea.” Those damn dimples flashed. “I thought so too.”

  “We’re working a case together.” I strove for professionalism. “This—me and you—the flirting. It can’t happen.”

  “Fraternization laws don’t apply.” He rocked back on his heels. “Technically, you’re from a different division than me. We might both be on loan to the same outpost, but this is a temporary assignment. That gives us wiggle room.”

  I wet my lips. “You’ve thought about this.”

  He shrugged. “You did your research, I did mine.”

  “Is this because of your dissertation? Are you some kind of psycho stalker?” I wracked my brain for an answer that made sense. “You’re not a warg, are you? Your people don’t believe in those predestined mates, do they?”

  “Maybe a little, I hope not, no, and it’s complicated.”

  Uh-oh. “How complicated?”

  “I’m an elf.” He glanced both ways down the hall then released the glamour I hadn’t realized he was wearing. He thumped one of his gently pointed ears. “We’re betrothed in the cradle. My people grow up knowing who their future spouse will be, so every attempt is made to encourage attachment prior to the final bonding.”

  Relief and a pulse of an undefinable emotion zinged through me. “So, you’re engaged?”

  His glamour snapped back into place. “Would I be here asking you to dinner if I was?”

  “I’ve known you for eight hours. You can’t possibly expect me to know the answer.”

  “Fair point.” He huffed out a breath. “Okay, so I’m not an elf so much as I’m half elf and half human.” His hands fisted in his pants. “Elves are particular about bloodlines. Having a human father meant not even my mother, a high regent, could arrange for a match. If no such agreement is reached by a child’s first year of life, they’re considered bane
s. Outcasts.” Another shrug drew up his shoulders. “So, you’re safe from any predestined mating with me.”

  A sense of kinship blossomed in me, and I found myself admitting, “I get that. Vamps are particular about lineage too. Life, food, legacy. It’s all about blood for them.” Hope sparkled in his expression, and I cursed under my breath, which caused his lips to twitch. “Fine. I’ll eat dinner with you, but only because I’m hungry.” I jutted out my chin. “You’re too young for me.”

  “Have you ever considered that, being half vampire, you’re close to immortal? At some point, most everyone will be younger than you. You’ll have to start cradle robbing eventually. Why not practice on me?”

  “Out.” I shooed him into the hall and changed into a floral sundress. Not because I wanted to look nice for him, but because it was a balmy night and the ocean breeze would feel good on my skin. Ten minutes later, I was ready to go and locked up my room behind me. “Where did you have in mind?”

  His eyes sparkled with mischief. “I read that—”

  I released an audible groan.

  This was a mistake. A huge lapse in judgment. I was in the middle of a case. And Jones, who had yet to see north of thirty, was nursing a crush on a fictional representation of me.

  “—this new place opened near Saddler’s Village. It’s more of a glorified seafood shack, but I figured since you’re new to the islands that might appeal.”

  “You played me.” I stood there stunned, having expected him to hurl quotes at me again, but the boy was a quick study.

  “Baby, you walked right into that one.” He ran his knuckles down my cheek. “I couldn’t help myself. I promise to behave myself for the rest of the night.”

  “Don’t bother,” I said, knowing I was inviting trouble. “I’ve got a bead on you now, Jones.”

  “Is that so?” He appeared delighted at the prospect. “You think I can’t be good?”

  “I think…” I debated how to put it nicely then decided to hell with being polite. “You’re a good-looking man, you’re smart as a whip, and you slay people with your dimples. Seriously, you could inflict a mortal wound with that sharp tongue of yours, and your victim would be too blinded by the crease in your cheek to care.”

  Too late I realized my mistake. I’d thought I had seen him smile, but I was wrong. There were the polite smiles I had been on the receiving end of since my arrival, and there was the seductive twist of his lips facing me now. He must have practiced in the mirror. That was the only reason I could fathom for how he had managed to deepened his dimples exponentially.

  “Lena, are you saying I affect you?”

  Worry that he had glimpsed my fangs earlier, that he might be fishing for confirmation, broke sweat down my spine. He had no way of knowing how affected I had been, right?

  “I’m saying seafood sounds good.” I brushed past him on the way to his car. “Let’s go.”

  Grinning like a fool, he went.

  Chapter 4

  Rocco’s On the Beach was a dive of the highest order, the walls surrounding the kitchen nothing more than weathered pallets tacked into a lopsided rectangle that poured smoke from the cooking pit through the cracks. A patchwork of tarps secured first at the roof and then by bungee cords to nearby palm trees created a covered eating area. Music blared through speakers mounted on the trunks, and someone’s iPhone provided the tracks. Under the billowing material, a half-dozen plastic tables with matching sun-bleached chairs gave diners the option of sitting at their table or hauling their seat out to watch moonlight glitter on the waves.

  Figuring I would feel safer with a table between me and Jones, I snagged a menu and sat. He followed suit, dialing back the dimples so I could focus on the offerings.

  “What looks good to you?” He skimmed the listing.

  “The special.” Fresh lobster with lemon-herb butter served with corn on the cob, Johnny cakes and a baked potato. “Not bad for twenty bucks.” A worrisome thought occurred to me, and I jumped in front of it. “That reminds me. This date is Dutch.”

  “I expected no less.” He sounded pleased. “Can I buy you a drink at least?”

  “A Corona.” I could bend that much. “Why are you smiling? Must you torment me?”

  I was only half kidding. Until meeting him, I’d had no idea dimple fetishes were a thing.

  “You called this a date.” He sat up taller in his chair. “Let me enjoy the moment.”

  Sighing in his general direction, I waved over a local teen with dark skin and darker eyes dressed in cut-off shorts that consisted of pockets strung from a waistband and a pink bikini. Long ropes of hair cascaded over her shoulders, and matching pink beads capped the ends. They click-clacked when she moved, and the sound brightened the night.

  “Two specials,” I ordered for us since he had yet to settle on a choice.

  “Two Coronas,” he countered, unfazed by a woman ordering on his behalf.

  Our effortless rapport relaxed some part of me held tense until this moment. My last partner was as nice as he could be to my face while preaching “women belong in the kitchen” rhetoric behind my back. If I’d ordered for Dawes, he would have keeled over on the spot. It seemed Jones had passed a test I hadn’t realized I was administrating.

  “So,” he began.

  “So,” I echoed. “Is this the part where we reminisce about my old cases?”

  “Nah. I don’t want to be predictable.” He flicked away a mosquito. “I was hoping we could talk more about you. Likes, dislikes. That kind of thing.”

  I hesitated too long to be polite, but he didn’t seem to mind. “What do you want to know?”

  “Favorite color.”

  “Pink.”

  “Favorite song.”

  “Currently ‘All Time Low’ by Jon Bellion.”

  “Favorite pet when you were a kid.”

  “No pets allowed. Mom has allergies. Though my dream is to one day own a corgi.”

  “There’s a meme about those, right? Corgi butt or loaf of bread?”

  A smidgen of doubt had me wondering if he had researched my dog preference too, but I was pretty sure no one outside my family and a few friends had any idea I wanted to be a puppy momma one day when work quieted down and my life stabilized.

  “Yes, there is.” The pause in his interrogation was welcome, whatever his purpose, and turnabout was fair play. “What about you?”

  “Pink is also my favorite color. No, it’s true. One night I fell asleep on the couch while my sister was hosting a slumber party. She was ten. I was sixteen. She painted my nails pink and, much to her horror, I wore the polish until it chipped and flaked off. I adopted pink as my favorite color that day, and I’ll fight anyone who says otherwise.”

  “You have siblings?” I was an only child. Dhampirs were a rare breed given vampire-reproductive issues.

  “Just the sister. She’s nosey as all get out, and she’ll probably paint your nails if you fall asleep on her couch. Just sayin’. Fair warning and all.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.” I kept my expression serious. “Should I ever end up unconscious on your sister’s couch.”

  The food arrived then, and we fell into a companionable silence. The food was mouth-wateringly good, the view spectacular, and the company… I had no complaints there either. Except maybe that it was difficult for him to both dimple and chew at the same time.

  We finished up, tipped the waitress and left our compliments with the chef, then walked on the beach. The moon hung heavy above us, and the crashing waves soothed parts of me that still felt raw all these months later. Maybe the higher-ups had known what they were doing after all. Maybe a change of scenery was just what the doctor ordered. I breathed easier here, away from the familiar, the things that triggered dark memories.

  “Can you surf?”

  “No.” I studied him. “Can you?”

  “Yep. I can teach you, once this is over.” He studied the glittering sea, a different sort of longing in his expression. “T
here’s nothing like it.”

  “Are you about to tell me surfing is better than sex?” I heard the doubt heavy in my voice.

  “Hell no.” He walked until the surf nursed his bare toes. “There’s only one thing better than sex.”

  Wary of his answer, I still asked, “What might that be?”

  “Sleep.”

  A chuckle bubbled up my throat.

  “After a sixteen-hour shift, there is nothing I want more than my bed. I’m sorry. It’s the truth.” He cast a sideways glance at me. “I hope that doesn’t cost me my street cred with you. I mean, if you were in my bed when I got there, I would at least be conflicted about it.”

  Laughing again for the dozenth time that night, I joined him in the foamy water and rested my head against his shoulder. Today had started out ugly, and tomorrow promised more of the same. One thing marshals learned early was to take happiness where and when we found it, because you never knew when you’d get your next dose of reality.

  Chapter 5

  A frantic shriek pierced the night, and reality came crashing down on us. A woman of Hispanic descent, her cruise line T-shirt labeling her as a tourist, arrowed toward us and grabbed me by the arm. I wasn’t surprised when she homed in on us. Cops were easy to spot once you knew what to look for, and clearly this woman had made us.

  “Officer,” she panted. “Please. There’s a man—” She flung her arm out behind her, and tears sprang into her eyes. “I was on a walk. Ay dios mio! I thought he was drunk and had fallen asleep, but I checked on him.” The panicked animal sound she made caused the predator in me to sit up and pay attention. “He was so cold. His neck. It was bloody. I think I—”

  She whirled to the side and emptied her stomach while I rubbed a hand up and down her back.

  “I’ll check it out.” I switched places with Jones then jogged toward a grouping of fancy loungers set out by one of the upscale restaurants on their private beach. I spotted a man reclining, legs crossed and gaze fixed on the ocean, shades covering eyes that would be clouded by now. The breeze caught his scent, and I smelled pungent halitosis on him long before I got close enough to check for his absent pulse. I called in the murder and circled the scene, snapping reference photos with my phone. “You just threw a monkey wrench in the works, mister.”