Colin stared at the guy’s still features. "We didn’t see his face. He-they had masks on the whole time." But this was one of their attackers, he’d bet his life on it.
And the fact that Emily’s psychic radar was going off just made him all the more certain.
You couldn’t go wrong with a psychic.
Smith pulled the sheet down a few more inches, revealing a clear bullet hole right over the man’s heart. "Close range," she murmured. "I found powder burns on his chest."
His hands clenched. He’d hoped to question the bastard. Hoped to find out who’d sent him.
A kid. The guy’s just a kid. His gut tightened. What a damn waste.
"Three others were found with him." Smith stepped back and tapped the vault door near her. "Same MO. One shot, straight through the heart. The uniforms on scene thought it was a gang hit."
No, not a gang hit.
"W-were they all young? Like him?" Emily asked softly.
Smith nodded. Her eyes were narrowed as she appraised him. "Four attackers, right? That’s what they said on the radio."
"Yeah." His mind was racing. If the men who’d attacked them were all dead…damn, that was no coincidence. The guy who’d hired them, the sonofabitch who’d sent those kids after them, had tied up his loose ends.
Probably afraid the kids would cave and reveal his identity if the cops caught them.
"Kind of a strange coincidence, isn’t it?" Smith drawled. "You two getting attacked like that, and these poor guys getting killed? All within forty-eight hours."
"Very strange," Emily said, and she lifted her hand toward the dead man. Her fingers hovered in the air over his chest, not quite touching him. Her hand was a soft, light gold above the stark white body. "So much pain…" she whispered. "For so long…"
"What?" Smith shook her head. "No, Dr. Drake, didn’t you hear me? The guy was shot in the heart. He died instantly. He didn’t suffer, I guarantee you that."
Emily blinked and shook her head. "Uh, right. Sorry. I was"-a barely perceptible pause-"confused." Her hand balled into a fist. "You haven’t done an autopsy yet."
"No, he was brought in just a few hours ago."
"McNeal needs to be notified before you cut into him." Colin made the words an order. "He should see the bodies first."
"See the bodies?" Smith’s brows scrunched together. "Why would he need to see them?"
Because these guys are demons and he might not want you cutting inside them. Hmm. Better go with option B, instead. "Because there’s a chance these guys are linked to the Night Butcher."
"This isn’t his MO." Smith was definite. "A professional did these guys. Swift, clean."
The jazz music faded into silence.
Emily stared at him for a moment, then inclined her head slightly toward the door.
"Smith, just don’t start cutting on them yet, okay? I’ll send the captain down here."
He stalked across the gleaming floor, heading for the door. Emily was in front of him, moving quickly to the exit.
"Hey, wait! Don’t you want to see the others?" Smith called after them.
Emily was at the door now. She paused a moment, glanced back over her shoulder, and whispered, "There’s no need, Colin. I know it’s them."
And you couldn’t argue with a psychic. Since he’d never gotten a look at the guys, seeing their faces now wouldn’t do him much good. He’d have to rely on Emily’s sensitivity.
He spared a brief glance for Smith. She was watching them both, her brow furrowed. "I’ve got a suspect to question." That was the truth. When four demon bodies turned up in the morgue, it looked damn suspicious.
Especially when those guys had attacked him right outside of Paradise Found.
Someone sure as hell had to be pulling the strings on the demons who’d attacked them. The odds were good that same person had been the one pulling the trigger and ending their lives.
And the guy at the top of his suspect list was a powerful demon, the kind strong enough to threaten others of his race.
Niol.
The door swung shut behind them. Emily hurried down the hallway, her high heels clicking on the tiles. Her shoulders were stiff, her back a tense, straight line.
"Em, wait up." He grabbed her arm, pulled her around to face them. She was still too pale for his taste, and secrets were burning in her eyes.
"I’ve got to go talk to McNeal."
"He can wait a minute." The cloth of her shirt was soft beneath his touch and her arm felt so delicate and small.
Sometimes he forgot just how delicate humans were. He’d have to remember. Have to make sure that he took every care with her.
He’d held onto his control last night. Managed to chain the beast. Yeah, he’d marked her neck, but he’d had to do it. Had to show that she was his.
It’d been too long since he’d had her. Too long since he’d felt her beneath him. He’d watched her during the press conference. Felt hunger coil tightly within him. Then afterward, when she’d talked to that blond reporter and he’d seen the fear flash in her eyes, anger had burned in him. He’d wanted to step in front of her, to protect her.
And where in the hell had that impulse come from? His kind, they weren’t exactly a protective bunch. They were fighters. Hunters. They destroyed those who were weak. Devoured them.
They didn’t protect them.
"Those men in there-I know they’re the ones who attacked us." Her words jerked him out of his rambling thoughts and back to the present.
Yeah, he was pretty sure the tattooed kid had been the one he’d seen. He had an eye for the tats, and the details of the snake were extremely clear.
But Emily had known the guy was the perp even before they’d seen his wrist, he was sure of it. The doc had started acting weird the moment they’d gone inside. "How’d you know?" he asked, keeping his hand on her arm. He had the feeling that if he let her go, she’d run from him. And he didn’t want her to run.
Jesus. What the hell is my deal? Did a little bit of good sex make me go crazy?
Course, it hadn’t just been good sex. It’d been the best damn sex he’d had in, hell, he didn’t even know how long.
"I felt the echo of their power when we went inside."
Yeah, he wasn’t real sure what that meant. Emily must have read his expression, because she shrugged and muttered, "It was like shadows hanging in the room, okay? I could see them, feel them. And demon power is distinct."
"But they were dead." Pointing out the obvious there. "I thought the death had to be fresh in order for you to sense anything."
"They were fresh enough." She winced. "God, that sounds cold, doesn’t it? But the kill-it was less than twenty-four hours ago, and I could still feel them in there." She shuddered. "Do you know how cold death feels?"
No, and he was pretty damn glad of that fact. Until then, he hadn’t really thought about how hard the doc’s gift might be on her. Seeing into people’s minds, well, seemed it wasn’t as exciting as most folks would think.
He opened his mouth to reply, but Emily pulled away from him, muttering, "Of course you don’t know. No one else knows. Just me." She shook her head, the light glinted off her glasses, and he watched her pull into herself, watched her pull away from him. He could see her withdrawal, see it in the suddenly blank expression on her face, read it in the stiffness of her body.
The doc was trying to pull away from him.
Oh, hell, no. He grabbed her arms, jerked her back against him. Yeah, he liked that a whole lot better. "I might not know what it’s like to be you, Doc. But I know you."
"You think you do." He had her pinned against his body, and she had to tilt her head back to meet his stare. "We had sex, and suddenly you think you know me."
He felt the flames of his temper stir. The doc should know better than to yank a shifter’s tail.