Dead Sexy (4 page)

Flynn was waiting for her at the scene, his handsome face solemn. No one else was there, so she figured he must have called her before he notified anyone else.

The body lay on the dew-damp grass in a loose-limbed sprawl that couldn't be imitated by the living.

Regan's stomach clenched. This one was a woman in her mid-twenties. Regan surveyed the body without touching it, noting the opening in the chest where the heart had been extracted, the gaping hole where the liver had been, and the fact that there was virtually no blood to be seen. And no telltale puncture wounds on her neck. Of course, whatever marks had been there had been destroyed when her throat was ripped out.

"Same M.O. as the other one, right?" Flynn asked.

Regan nodded. "Identical, as near as I can tell."

"Two bodies in two days," Flynn remarked with a shake of his head. "I'm afraid we've got a serial killer on our hands."

Regan blew out a sigh. She was sorely afraid he was right. Though Flynn didn't know it, the death toll was five and not two. And while she hadn't seen the three bodies that Santiago had told her about, he had told her they looked the same as the one from last night. Even though she had no way of knowing if the killings were related, she had a feeling in her gut that they were. She should have questioned Santiago further about the other killings, she thought, and made a mental note to call his place and ask him to meet her in the park later.

Flynn swore softly. "Sure doesn't look like any vampire kills I've ever seen," he remarked. "I mean, look at…"

His voice trailed off at the sound of approaching sirens. Moments later, the forensics team and the M.E. arrived on the scene, along with a few cops who had nothing better to do so early in the morning.

Regan stayed out of the way as the medical examiner and his team got down to work. With that morbid sense of humor common to those who dealt with death on a daily basis, it occurred to Regan that if they didn't catch the murderer soon, she wouldn't have to go looking for a new job. She could go back to doing what she did best—hunting vampires. The thought brought a smile to her face, which she quickly banished.

She conferred briefly with the M.E., then waved to Flynn and left the park. There was nothing more for her to do there.

Going to her car, she pulled out her cell phone, called the Vampire Arms, and left a message for Joaquin Santiago to call her as soon as possible.

The rain started just before she got home.

Regan's phone rang almost the very instant the sun went down. A tingle of anticipation ran through her body when she picked it up and heard his voice.

"Miss Delaney, what can I do for you?"

He cut right to the chase. She liked that. "You said there had been three other murders."

"Yes."

"Were they in the park?"

"No."

Regan frowned. "But they were similar to the recent ones?"

"Yes, almost identical."

"Were they all males?"

"Two men and a young woman."

"I'd like you to tell me everything you remember."

"Of course, but this is hardly the kind of thing one discusses over the phone. Why don't you meet me at Sardino's for dinner?"

"I'm sorry, Mr. Santiago, but synthetic blood isn't on my diet."

His laughter sent frissons of heat dancing up and down her spine. "I am sure I can persuade Sardino to prepare something a little more to your liking."

"I don't think so, Mr. Santiago."

"Then I have nothing more to say."

She felt her temper rise. "That's blackmail."

"Indeed it is."

It was also flattering. "What time?"

"As soon as you can be there."

"All right," she said after a moment's hesitation. "I'll meet you there in forty minutes." It would give her time to wash up, fix her hair, and change her clothes. She shook her head. What was she thinking? The man was a vampire and this was a business meeting, not a date!

"Forty minutes," he agreed, and hung up the phone.

In spite of herself, Regan took pains with her appearance, choosing a long white skirt, white heels, and a dark green sweater that made her eyes appear several shades darker. She brushed her hair until it crackled, put it up in a fancy twist, and then let it down again. She rarely wore much makeup. Tonight, she indulged in a touch of powder and a bit of eye shadow and lipstick. Picking up her handbag, she checked to make sure her pistol was inside and loaded, and she was ready to go.

Stepping outside, she was glad to see that the storm had passed. She hated driving in the rain, but she loved storms, loved the thunder and the lightning and the way the rain washed away the dirt and grime of the city, leaving everything looking and smelling clean and fresh.

Sardino's wasn't yet crowded when she arrived. At this time of night, most of the humans had already left the park, while most of the vamps preferred to arrive later. She parked at the curb and took a deep, calming breath before getting out of the car.

Santiago was waiting for her. Dressed in ubiquitous black, he looked dashing and handsome and deadly. She could tell, by the heightened color of his skin, that he had fed not long ago.

He smiled when he saw her, displaying even white teeth. "Good evening." His smile was devastating, without a hint of fang.

"Hello."

He held out his hand. "Our table is ready."

Regan looked at him, hesitant to let him touch her.

Santiago raised one brow in a silent challenge.

Pursing her lips, Regan placed her hand in his and let him lead her to a table in a secluded corner of the room.

A waitress clad in a long black dress and a crisp white apron came to take their order.

Santiago asked the waitress to have Sardino fix Regan something to eat, then ordered a glass of A negative for himself.

Regan's heart skipped a beat. Was it merely coincidence that Santiago had ordered A negative, which happened to be her blood type, as well? But of course it was, she thought. How could he possibly know?

With a nod and a smile that showed only a hint of fang, the waitress moved away from the table. The fact that she couldn't completely hide her true nature proved that she was still a young vampire.

"Does all blood taste the same?" Regan asked what was uppermost in her mind without thinking.

"No." His gaze moved briefly to her throat. "Each type has its own… shall we say, bouquet."

Regan grimaced. It was more information than she needed. "So," she said, changing the subject, "tell me about the other killings."

"There is little to tell. They were almost identical to the one you saw last night. And the one today."

Regan wasn't surprised that he knew about the latest victim. She had a feeling that he knew everything that went on, not only inside the park but outside, as well.

"You told me that on the phone," Regan said. Leaning back in her chair, she crossed her arms under her breasts. "I thought you had some new information."

"There have been other killings."

"What do you mean?"

"Someone is also killing vampires."

That piqued her interest. "I hadn't heard about that," she said, leaning forward.

"Of course not. But I have."

"How many?"

"Four, so far."

"Do you think the same person is killing both vampires and humans?"

Santiago shrugged. "Perhaps."

"Perhaps?"

"The one responsible for the deaths inside the park is not a vampire. And not a mortal."

"Not a vamp and not a human? What else could it be?"

"It is a werewolf. A very old werewolf."

Regan stared at him. A werewolf? She sat back, stunned. That possibility had never occurred to her, but then, why would it? Werewolves were supposed to be extinct. She had never seen a werewolf, had been skeptical that they had ever existed except in fairy tales. The idea of a human turning into an animal just seemed so bizarre. And yet, it shouldn't be so hard to believe in werewolves, she mused, not when there was another, equally fantastic creature sitting across from her. Still, vampires remained humanoid if not entirely human. But werewolves… she shrugged inwardly. She supposed the two species really weren't so very different. Both werewolves and vampires were brutal killers that stalked the night in search of human prey. And if there could be werewolves and vampires, then why not fairies and goblins and trolls and elves?

She shook her head. She was being ridiculous now. Vampires and werewolves had once been human. Elves and goblins and trolls were just… make-believe. Weren't they?

"What makes you think it's a werewolf?" she asked, although the longer she thought about it, the more sense it made. She had never known any vampire to do more than take the blood of its victims. Sure, they usually took the life, too, but they left the victim's body intact; they didn't rip out the internal organs.

"I recognized his scent."

"You know him then?" she asked, startled.

Santiago nodded. "Our paths have crossed before."

From the tone of his voice, she didn't think they were friends. "The other night, you told me you didn't know who had killed the victim."

"I lied," he said with a shrug.

"So how do I know you're not lying to me tonight?"

"Because I know you better now."

Disconcerted by his words, Regan lifted her water glass and took a drink. What was she doing, sitting here with this… this creature? He was one of them, a killer of innocents, a drinker of blood. Looking at him, it was hard to believe he was one of the monsters. He looked like any other man, save that his teeth seemed a little whiter, his eyes a little brighter… who was she kidding? No ordinary man had ever looked this roguishly handsome, or made her heart do handsprings in her chest. No ordinary man had ever made her skin tingle just by looking at her.

She shook her head to clear it. It was hard to think straight when he was looking at her. "Are you the only vampire that can cross through the barrier?"

He hesitated a moment before replying, "As far as I know."

"Why don't I believe you?"

He shrugged.

She frowned thoughtfully. "What about the werewolf?"

The vampire's gaze moved over her, probing, curious, and yet she had the feeling that he knew her better than she knew herself. "It would have no effect on him."

If only Joaquin Santiago had no effect on her! It was hard to think coherently when he was looking at her as if nothing else in all the world mattered. His dark eyes smoldered with unspoken desire. Her body warmed under his regard, aching for his touch. She told herself it was nothing. Vampires were notoriously charming and seductive. It was part of their appeal, part of their preternatural glamour, the very thing that made it so hard for humans to resist them.

Regan was glad when her meal arrived as it gave her something else to focus on. She had never eaten with a vampire before and she soon discovered that doing so made her extremely nervous.

"Is the food not to your liking?" he asked.

"No, it's really very good, but…"

He lifted one brow. "But?"

"I… it's…" She cleared her throat. "It makes me uncomfortable, eating in front of you, and…"

He glanced at the ruby red liquid shimmering in the crystal goblet in his hand. "And my drinking this doesn't help your appetite?" he guessed.

She nodded.

He signaled for the waitress and had her take his glass away. "Is that better?"

"Yes. No. I don't know. It doesn't seem right to eat in front of you when you can't…" She paused a moment, then gestured at the basket of garlic bread the waitress had brought with her spaghetti. "Does this bother you?"

"No," he said, grinning. "The whole garlic thing is just a myth."

"Oh. How long has it been since you consumed real food?"

"A very long time."

"I guess you don't remember what it was like?"

"Ah, but I do. I even remember my last meal, though it was remarkably unremarkable. Ash cakes and a bowl of venison stew. A cup of tiswin."

"Ash cakes?" Regan shook her head. "They aren't really made of ashes. Are they?"

He laughed softly. The sound danced across her skin, sensuous and seductive, like the man himself.

"Not at all," he said. "They are made from ground mesquite beans or pine nuts mixed with tallow or bear grease, and honey. The women form the mixture into small cakes and bake them on heated stones."

"Do you miss it? Eating, I mean."

"Not any more, though sometimes…"

"Go on."

He shook his head, thinking it would be better not to go down that path. She had no need to know that when he drank from his prey, he could, if he wished, vicariously experience what they had recently experienced.

"Please," he said, "enjoy your meal."

She tried, but every time she took a bite, she was aware of his gaze. He was not a mortal man. He didn't eat food. He drank blood. She had been a fool to meet him here, alone, after dark. No one knew she had agreed to meet him here. If he should decide he wanted a snack, she was readily available.

The thought made her shudder. How could anyone drink blood? It was beyond her comprehension. Contemplating it ruined what was left of her appetite and she pushed her plate away.

"You have hardly eaten a thing," Santiago remarked.

"I'm not hungry anymore."

He regarded her through narrowed eyes. "I see."

Drat the man. She was afraid he saw way too much.

He signaled for the waitress and signed the check, leaving a generous tip.

After rising, he drew back Regan's chair, then followed her out of the restaurant.

Silently, he walked her to her car. Was it her imagination, or did she feel a slight tremor in the force field when he passed through?

Regan unlocked the door. "Thank you for dinner."

He flashed a smile. "I am sorry that the food, and the company, were not more to your liking."

"I…"

He held up one hand, silencing her. "You needn't explain." Indeed, her thoughts were clearly visible in her eyes.

Regan slid behind the wheel. If she needed physical proof that he could leave the park, she had it now. She punched in the ignition code, then looked up at Santiago through the open door. "If you uncover any more information on the werewolf, I hope you'll let me know."