Whiskey, Vamps, and Thieves (Southern Vampire Detective #1)

by Selene Charles

  “You wanted tea, right? I can come over in—”

  “No!” she said, her voice strong and urgent, and every muscle in my body stilled. “No,” she said again, softer but with an edge of steel to it. “I’m fine.”

  Lucille and I weren’t close, but I was overwhelmed by the sudden feeling that I needed to go there. Needed to check on her. Something was definitely wrong, I felt it deep in my bones.

  I heard a small, tiny whimper. The noise didn’t last even a second, but my blood ran cold.

  “Is Steven with you? Is he okay?” I gripped the phone with both my hands.

  “Steven came down with whooping cough, Scar. It’s why I’m sick now too. Look, just, I’m sorry. I wanted you to know that. More than anything, I wanted you to hear that from me. Goodbye.”

  She hung up, and all I could do was stare at my phone as if it’d sprouted a head. That “sorry” was weird but not what I was focused on.

  Shifters got sick. Rarely. But they could.

  They were a lot more like humans in that way. Feeling the urgent need to get out of my house and find out what was going on, I gathered my two-day unwashed hair into a ponytail, slipped on the first pair of boots I found—which happened to be a pair of black shit kickers—and swiped my keys. I didn’t bother locking the door.

  In less than fifteen minutes, I’d arrived at the den.

  The old place was backlit in soft, gauzy blue tones. The sounds of fiddles and banjos spilled out the door. Inside, I heard the clink of bottles and the chatter of drunks. After hopping out of my truck, I kicked the door shut behind me and studied the woods.

  Nature was a living, sentient entity. She could tell you a lot about the world to anyone who took the time to listen. Mercer had taught me that long ago.

  The night spilled with the sounds of revelry, but the woods were quiet. Empty.

  Frowning, I headed into the bar, looking for Mercer.

  Instead the first person I spotted was James. He was standing against the wall, pool stick in hand as a pretty brunette with café au lait skin hunched over the table in front of him, wiggling her ass at him in an obvious and blatant invitation for sex. I recognized her immediately.

  Carly was a beta bitch. Nice enough. Didn’t make waves or treat me as if I were a roach infesting her nest as some of the others did. But just as with the rest of them, we weren’t chums. I thinned my lips and went to walk past.

  I heard James’s heavy footsteps come after me not a second later. “Scar, wait,” he sniped from behind my shoulder.

  “No.” I picked up my pace, scanning the faces behind the bar for Mercer. He wasn’t there.

  James latched onto my wrist, halting and twirling me around to face him. “This isn’t what you—”

  I huffed, more upset than I cared to admit after seeing him hanging out with Carly. But I was the one who’d told him to leave me alone. I was the one who’d sent him away. I’d meant it before, and I meant it now. Though maybe after a few days, I’d come to the conclusion that maybe, just maybe, I’d overreacted just a wee bit too.

  Maybe.

  I extricated myself from his grasp.

  “Look, I’m sorry about the other night, okay? I don’t hate you. Not sure I trust you anymore. But I don’t hate you. But you should know that when it comes to Mercer, I’ve always been—”

  “Consumed,” he said softly, his silver eyes gleaming with an emotion I couldn’t quite place. “Aye, I know.”

  “I’m not obsessed with Mercer,” I denied, sounding a lot like a teenager who’d just been caught smoking weed by her parents. Not that I knew anything about that.

  His jaw clenched—strong muscle visibly twitching as though he refrained from speaking his mind.

  Carly slipped up to him then, sliding her blood-red nails across his gray shirt and digging her nails in. I lifted a brow at the obvious show of claiming, then gave a weak chuckle.

  “Not what I think, huh?”

  He growled. “You don’t get to fecking do that, Scar. You chose.”

  I balled my fists. “No, you’re absolutely right, Jamie. I don’t. And you know what”—I flicked a glance at Carly, whose deep chocolate eyes gleamed with satisfaction—“shove your dick in whatever you want. This conversation is over.”

  Carly gasped, and James went rigid, but I was through caring.

  Turning, I almost smacked headlong into Mercer’s broad chest. He wore a black T-shirt with thick, blocky white stenciling on it that read, “Shifters do it better.”

  Oh God, yes they did. My traitorous thighs tingled.

  He carried six heavy crates full of imported beers and liquors, causing his biceps to pop, and he smelled of sawdust, bergamot, and sweat. His blue-green eyes looked from me to James and then back to me again before they turned stony.

  I shook my head, not wanting him to think whatever it was he’d just thought.

  “Am I interrupting something?” he asked deeply.

  “Nothing. Nothing at all,” James snapped. If looks could kill... But then I heard Carly’s wheedling “Come back and play, Jamie,” and I had to clench down on my back teeth not to turn around and smack her for using my pet name for him.

  Mercer, who’d always seen way too much when it came to me, rolled his eyes and tried to brush by.

  “Merc, wait,” I said softly.

  But he didn’t wait. He was moving to the taproom, and I had to pick up my pace to keep up with him.

  “What, Scar? I’m busy, and I don’t really feel like listening to your romance shit right now.”

  “Romance. Shit!” I snapped, punching him lightly on the shoulder.

  But “lightly” from me was enough to cause him to stumble and pitch forward. If he’d been human, I would have probably caused him to lose at least ten grand’s worth of liquor just now. But he was a graceful shifter who rotated his balance at the last moment and righted himself before I’d have to write a check my stupid ass couldn’t afford to cash.

  He glared at me over his shoulder, and his pretty lips thinned into a tight line. But I was mad as hell at him, so I did what I did best. I stuck my tongue out at him and screeched.

  Yeah, not super mature. I really didn’t care.

  “You freaking moron,” I grumped, “if you’d just pull your head out of your ass for a minute and listen to me, you’ll see I have more going through this head of mine than sucking face with asshole men.”

  After kicking the back room open, he sat the crates down with a heavy thud, rattling the glass inside, and I lifted my brow. “You break it, you buy it.”

  “Scarlett, God help me,” he growled, rubbing his brows irritably. “What do you need?”

  Angry. Scared. Irritated. I let loose on him. “You know what I need. I need you right now, Mercer. That’s what I need. I need you to fucking listen to me for a second without whatever crackpot ideas you’ve got in your head getting in the way. Think you can handle that?” I smacked at his chest, so annoyed I seriously wanted to punch him. Like flat-out, all-out brawl. I was a powder keg of emotion ready to blow, and the only person in the world I trusted right now had been acting like a freaking weirdo for weeks, and it was killing me.

  I tried to smack him again. He gripped my wrist and held tight. So tight I felt my bones rub. His power thrilled me.

  “I gave you one hit, Scar. You won’t get another.”

  He dropped my hand as though I’d burned him, and I had to fight not to rub at the lily-white flesh that was no doubt starting to mottle with a bruise. Crossing his big arms over his big chest, he glared down at me.

  “What’s the matter?”

  I could fight with him all night. Because fighting to me wasn’t really fighting at all. It was verbal foreplay, and Mercer and I excelled at it. We were volatile creatures with explosive tempers at the best of times, and if I’d had more time, I’d have pressed the issue.

  “Spoken with Lucille lately?” I asked softly.

  The unexpected modulation in my tone had an immediate eff
ect on Merc. He went from being an ornery wolf to immediately alert and on edge.

  “What?”

  I shook my head, tucking a loose curl behind my ear. “She called me tonight. About that stupid picnic. But she sounded wrong, Merc. Like, I don’t know...and Steven—”

  “Ah.” Understanding lit through his expressive eyes. “Yeah, that. I meant to tell you, Steven came down with whooping cough. Not a big deal. All pups get it at some point in our lives.”

  I frowned. He’d meant to tell me, just somehow conveniently forgot. I couldn’t help feeling as if that never would have happened to us before. The past few days had been hell, but rather than bringing us closer, I felt things ripping us apart. It terrified me, but I didn’t know how to bridge the divide alone.

  He frowned. “What’s wrong?”

  Always, he’d known me. Without even having to say a word, Mercer had always read my moods like a book. Biting my bottom lip, I shook my head. “I don’t know, Merc.” I admitted things to him I would to no other. “But something’s not right.”

  A flare of panic burst through his eyes, and he gripped my wrist, this time gently and tenderly, fluttering his thumb along the bruise that was by now a vivid scarlet.

  “With you?” he asked deeply, and I felt his terror in the words.

  I shook my head. “I haven’t seen or heard from Carter in days, Merc. I know we’re not partners anymore, but it’s not like him to just disappear. I’m worried.”

  He dropped my hand, and I frowned. “I’m sure he’s okay. He’s an adult with more years bringing down Veilers than you. If any human knows how to handle himself, it’s—”

  I shook my head, cutting him off. “Yeah, but that’s the thing. He quit the force. Handed in his badge. No one’s seen or heard from him since. I’ve called his home. His cell. Nothing.”

  “Did you try Doc?”

  Doc Monroe was Carter’s brother and at one time had been the PD’s psychologist. He’d retired a few years ago and moved to Kentucky to be close to his wife’s family.

  I nodded. “Yeah, I thought maybe Carter might have gone there.”

  “And?” His brows gathered in a tight V.

  “No. Doc’s not seen him. Carter’s got no other family here. No wife. No kids. He had cancer before.”

  Mercer inhaled deeply. “He’s a human, Scarlett.”

  Offended by what he was implying, I shoved him back hard. I really needed to stop being so demonstrative with Merc, but I just couldn’t seem to help myself. Especially when he did or said something as asshatery as he just had.

  “What the hell’s that got to do with anything?”

  His nostrils flared. “You’re overreacting, Scar. That’s what I’m saying. And to be honest, if you even care to know, I could give ten shits less what happens to Carter. My only priority, my only concern is you.”

  My eyes widened. He cleared his threat.

  “And the pack.” He tagged it on almost as an afterthought and shrugged. Huffing out a breath, he flicked a quick glance to the side before turning back to me, and I swore there was nothing in his eyes now.

  He was cold, and I shivered.

  “What if the bogeyman got him?” I confessed my fears into the sudden silence.

  And Mercer leaned forward on the balls of his feet, and though his movements were minute, I noticed them all.

  The way his throat worked as he swallowed hard. How that cold mask slipped for half a second and I witnessed the burn of fire and longing in their depths. And how his fingers opened and shut as though he wanted nothing more than to reach out to me.

  But then that silence was broken by a sudden ringing of laughter, and that mask slipped back over Merc’s features, making me wonder if I’d ever seen anything at all.

  “All the more reason for you to stay out of it, then,” he said softly.

  I flinched. “You would really say that to me? Knowing what Carter’s always meant to me?”

  “I would damn this whole world and everyone in it to keep you safe, Scarlett. I’m begging you, stay away from Carter. From Sharp Elbows. Stay away.”

  Leaning back on my heel as if I’d just been slapped, I shook my head. “Of all the people I ever expected to be disappointed in, I never thought it would be you.”

  “Scarlett, don’t—”

  He reached for me, but I twirled out of his grasp, running away from him, the pack. All of it. Mercer could have stopped me. But he didn’t. He let me go. And that hurt more than I could say.

  ~*~

  I drove all night, searching high and low through all of Carter’s old haunts for him. My first stop had been his apartment. The lights were all off. His SUV was gone. I didn’t have a key and didn’t feel like breaking and entering.

  I strained to hear the sounds of breathing, the beat of a heart, or even the low electrical pulse of a turned-on and muted television. But he wasn’t there. Just in case I’d missed him, I called three more times.

  Each time, I’d heard the click of his antiquated answering machine turn on. After that, I’d driven through town. I stopped at the local diner and asked Wanda, the frizzy-purple-haired waitress of fifty-plus years, whether she’d seen him. Her bright blue eyeshadow had dazzled me with flecks of winking silver as she’d spoken.

  “No, shug, ain’t seen Carter now going on two weeks.”

  I shook my head. “Two weeks?”

  What the hell had happened to me that I’d failed to notice my friend’s spiral? Carter was a man I could set my watch by. Because our job was nothing but chaos, his life outside of it was orderly. Precise. And always the same.

  I’d teased him that he’d needed to live a little, to switch things up, that it made life interesting. And always he’d grinned back at me indulgently, as though he’d known something I hadn’t.

  “Thanks, Wanda.”

  “Anytime, shug.” She smiled sadly. “Hope he’s all right.”

  “Yeah”—I nodded glumly—“me too.”

  From there I hit the bowling alley. Even the damned golf course at four o’clock in the morning. I went to the basketball courts. Questioned low-level street informants, asking anyone and everyone if they’d seen Carter around.

  But it was as if he’d just vanished into thin air.

  Hopping back into my truck, I toyed with the idea of driving by the Stop ’n Go where Matilda Hicks had once worked, but I knew that was a dead end. The girl was dead. The bogeyman had shed her skin.

  Dropping my head into my hands, feeling a sort of desperation I hadn’t in a long, long time, I didn’t know what to do. I might have been a vampire, but that didn’t mean I was God.

  “C’mon, Scar, think. Think.” I banged my forehead on the steering wheel. Then I jerked, reached into my pocket, pulled out my cell, and dialed SCPD.

  “Silver Creek Police Department, how can I direct your ca—”

  “Bianca,” I rushed through.

  “Scarlett?” She paused, sounding breathless with excitement. “Well, holy hell, Vampire, how the devil have you been?”

  I grinned, wilting with relief. Bianca was a Romini. A raven-haired priestess of average build and short stature. Shorter even than me. She had guileless two-toned eyes and a ready laugh.

  To look at her would be to overlook her. She was average in every way but one. She came of the vaunted Romini line, high-level witches that dabbled in the dark arts and could stop a person’s heart with just a thought. That saying, “dancing with the devil”? The Rominis took that to a whole nother level.

  She was badass with a badge, and I loved her.

  “Not that great, to be honest,” I said. “Look, I’m sure you’ve heard about Carter by now?”

  Sighing deeply, I could practically hear her nod. “Yeah, that sucks too. He was one of the best. Human or no.”

  “Any idea why he quit?”

  “You mean he didn’t tell you?” She sounded shocked.

  I bit my bottom lip. “No. Bianca, do you know—”

  “All I kno
w is he came in looking like hell. Said he was tired of the rat race and that he was going away for a while.”

  I blinked. “That’s not like him at all.”

  “You’re telling me,” Bianca snorted. “Luke’s pissed as fudge about it too, ’cause Carter didn’t even give any notice. Just bailed. So now Luke’s stuck with all of Carter’s case files. Darnedest thing, though. Everything about the bogeyman is gone.”

  My blood froze like blocks of ice in my vein. “What?”

  “Yep.” Bianca continued on blithely, completely unaware of my sudden tension. “All gone. Poof.”

  “Any more bodies found?”

  “I mean”—she paused—“I’m not really supposed to be talking about active cases with you anymore, Scar.”

  I closed my eyes as the first faint rays of sunlight began to stroke against the still dark sky. The sun would rise in a few minutes. My head started to hurt.

  “C’mon, B, it’s me. You know I was working as a consultant with him on this one. I have to know. Have you found anything else?”

  She sighed heavily. “No. All quiet. Too damn quiet, you ask me. Why?”

  “Nothing.” I started up the truck and made for home. “But one last question. Did he happen to say where he was headed off to?”

  “Said something about Barbados.”

  I blew out a heavy breath. “Thanks, B. You’ve helped more than you know.”

  “Anytime, girl. And don’t be such a stranger.”

  Nodding, I hung up, racing for home. By the time I finally managed to crawl my weary body up the steps, the world was flooded with painful, aching color.

  I dropped my keys into the fishbowl, trembling from head to toe with pain and adrenaline.

  But I didn’t go to bed right away. Instead I powered up my laptop and bought airline tickets.

  Carter hadn’t quit.

  His obsession had led him to follow the Veiler across county lines. He couldn’t have done it with a badge, so he was doing it without one. He was damned and determined to catch his man. I didn’t know how he’d traced bogeyman to Barbados, but if that was where Carter was going, that was where I was going too.