He met that gray stare without so much as a blink. “Cara isn’t a killer. Her alibis checked out—”
“And if those alibis were given by humans, she could’ve planted the damn suggestions! Shit, Brooks, she’s a demon, you can’t trust her.”
He wanted to. “I saw her reaction to the news of House’s death. The woman hurt. She’s not a killer.” His gut told him that.
“That’s your dick talking,” McNeal snapped.
Todd stepped forward, body tense.
McNeal glared right back at him. “Gyth…” He never took his eyes off Todd. “Bring her in.”
He felt, rather than saw, his partner’s hesitation. “Her story checked out, Captain—and the alibis—they were given by demons and a witch, not humans.”
“Like demons and witches don’t lie.” McNeal shook his head. “I want Ms. Firon here to-damn-day.”
Todd realized that his hands were clenched into fists. “You’re wasting time.”
“Gyth—get out of here.” McNeal barked the order, then glared at Todd a full minute before saying, “Brooks, you’d better start talking—fast—and let me know why I should keep you on this case. If Cara’s guilty—”
“She’s not.” Gut, psychic edge, whatever the hell it was—every instinct he possessed screamed her innocence.
The woman had lied to him, though. A sex demon. Shit. She should have told him—
“You’d damn well better prove she’s not involved in these killings—convince me, or your lover is going to find her ass in jail.”
She was back in the station again. Back in the same dingy interrogation room. Sitting at the same scarred table and sitting in the same chair that tilted slightly to the right.
And Cara was pissed.
“Why isn’t Detective Todd Brooks in here?” She demanded, glaring at the stony visage of his partner.
Gyth shrugged. “Because I’ve got questions for you.”
Screw his questions—and screw him. “Does he know what you’ve done? That you dragged me out of my house—”
“Politely escorted—”
“Handcuffed me—”
“For your own protection—”
“Cut my hair—”
“You agreed to that sample—”
“And put me back in this shitty room—”
He cleared his throat. “Interrogation rooms aren’t supposed to be pretty.”
Her nails tapped against the table top. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but I was under the impression we’d already done this dance before. My alibis checked out, remember? I even got a nice apology from your partner.”
“You left out a few facts when you were here before.” He pulled out the chair on the opposite side of the table. Flipped it around. Straddled it as he sat down.
Her eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?”
“Well, like the fact that you’re a demon. You didn’t mention that little tidbit the first time around.”
He’d told her secret. “Todd…discussed that with you?” It hurt. In the heart that others had said she didn’t have. To think that Todd had run straight from her bed to the station so that he could tell his buddies what a freak of nature she was—
Cara straightened her shoulders. “I want to see him.”
“Don’t think that’s the best idea,” he murmured.
Like she gave half a rat’s ass what he thought. Her nails scraped over the old wood. “Look, shifter—”
His jaw tensed. “How do you—”
“I want to see Todd. If I don’t see him, I’m done talking. Done being the good citizen and putting up with all this bullshit.” She’d call Niol, and he’d make the cops sorry they’d even thought to question her. “You don’t want to mess with me. I’ve got friends—you can’t even imagine how strong they are. Not even in your darkest dreams.”
He leaned forward. “You threatening me?”
Cara shrugged. She was done talking. Unless she got to see Todd.
“He’s been watching you.” Gyth pointed his index finger toward the mirror. “Listening to you.”
Not a newsflash. She could feel his stare. He’d been in and out of the other room since she’d been dumped in interrogation. But she didn’t want to admit her knowledge to the cop, so she’d asked her questions—
And gotten more damn enraged by the moment.
Todd should have his ass in there. What game was he playing now? What—
“If he wanted to talk to you, he’d be here—”
The door shoved open before Gyth could finish his sentence. Banged back against the wall with a thud. Todd stood in the doorway, face flushed, eyes glinting.
He looked furious. Body tight. Hands clenched.
Just the way she felt. “Been telling stories, have you, Todd?” She asked softly, tilting her chin back just the slightest bit. Seeing him again stirred an ache inside her. The hunger hadn’t abated. The need was still there, even though he’d turned on her.
She could be such an idiot sometimes.
“I didn’t have to tell him. Gyth already knew.” He slammed the door shut with his heel, then stalked toward her.
Ah. Her gaze darted back to the other cop. Shifter nose.
“And how’d you know about me?” Gyth asked.
A shrug. Not like it was confidential information or anything. “When you smelled my pheromones, you stepped back. Demons, humans, vamps—they all come closer.”
A growl sounded. It didn’t come from the shifter, but from Todd. “So you’ve got a lot of…experience luring men, do you?”
She didn’t like his tone. Not. One. Bit.
“But you’re a sex demon, right? So screwing men, draining them, even killing them for sensual power—that’s just right up your alley, isn’t it?”
What the hell was happening? Was this some really nightmarish game of bad cop, bad cop? What had happened to her tender lover?
He’d left when he found out what I truly am.
The air in the room thickened around her. “I don’t like the term ‘sex demon.’” Her head cocked to the right. “I find it offensive.” As offensive as she found the rest of his words. She’d made love with him the night before. She hadn’t just been screwing around.
Her fingers flattened against the table. Deep groves indented the surface, courtesy of her nails. Her gaze held Todd’s. “And I am not, not, going to apologize for being what I am.” She’d been born a demon. Unchangeable fact. She was a demon, one that, after she hit adulthood, needed a certain powerful energy to continue living. Not her fault. Just the hand of fate.
“You’re not going to apologize for killing?” Gyth asked. “Damn ballsy of you.”
Now she had to be careful. “And just who is it that you think I killed? I’ve already told you that I had nothing to do with Michael’s death, or the others you mentioned and—”
“But you didn’t tell us that Simon Battle liked to come to Paradise Found and listen to you sing.” Todd was at the edge of the table. Hands fisted. Brows low over his eyes, and jaw clenched tight.
“What? Who?”
“Simon Battle.” Gyth slid the eight-by-ten photo across the table. “Victim number one, in case you’ve forgotten.”
Her gaze flickered to the photo. She inhaled sharply. “I don’t know him.”
“But he knew you,” Todd told her. “In fact, according to the guy’s friends, he made it a habit to go and catch your show once a week.”
“I’ve only been singing at Paradise Found for a little over two months—”
“And he caught one of your shows every week.”
Cara studied the photo, tried to block the pain that shook her. The man’s eyes were closed. There was nothing particularly familiar about the guy. He was attractive, with strong features and a faint dimple in his chin. His hair was brushed back from his high forehead.
Yeah, a good-looking, dead guy. One she didn’t know. Her eyes lifted back to Todd’s. “You’ve been at Paradise when I sing.”
Gyth swore.