Olaf and I had been the ones to take the hearts out of the vampires last time we hunted. They were old and powerful, so you don’t just stake the heart. You cut it out of the chest cavity and destroy it with fire later.
I’d gotten the heart tangled somehow on some bit of viscera in the body. He’d offered to help, and I’d accepted. I’d forgotten what he was.
He slid his hand inside the hole I’d made, so that his arm slid up alongside mine in the chest cavity. It wasn’t until his hand cupped mine, pressing both our hands into the still-warm heart, that I looked at him. We were both leaning over the body, our faces inches apart, with our arms up the much longer torso of the male. He looked at me over the body, our hands around the heart, blood everywhere. He looked at me as if it were a candlelit dinner and I was wearing nice lingerie.
He’d kept his free hand on my arm, controlling how slowly we eased out of the chest cavity. He made it last, and he stared at my face while we did it. For the last few inches of arm he looked down at the wound and not at my face. He watched our arms emerge from the bloody hole just under the sternum. He kept his hand on my arm and forced our hands upward, so that for a moment we held the heart together, and he looked at me over the bleeding muscle.
He’d stolen a kiss like that, our first and, if I could help it, our last.
“Let go of me,” I said, softly, each word very clear.
His lips parted, and his breath came out in a long sigh. It was worse than the smile. I realized in that moment that I had become a trophy of that kill. A trophy for a serial killer is something they take from the victim or the murder scene, so that when they see it, or touch it, or hear it, or smell it, or taste it, it brings back the memory of the slaughter.
I did my best not to show fear, but I probably failed. Edward actually stepped up beside us and said, “You heard her.”
He turned his eyes behind the sunglasses toward Edward. The last time we’d all been together, Edward had done what he could to protect me, but protecting me from Olaf now wasn’t just a matter of guns and violence. Edward had taken my arm that last time, as if I were a girl and needed to be led. It was the first time, ever, that Edward had touched me as if I were a girl, because I was never just a girl to him. He’d put the idea into Olaf’s head that he, Edward, thought of me as a girl, maybe his girl. Maybe a girl he’d be willing to protect. I wouldn’t have let anyone else endanger themselves for a lie, but if anyone I knew could handle Olaf, it was Edward. Besides, he was Edward’s friend before he was mine, so it was sort of Edward’s fault that Olaf had a crush on me.
Now, Edward did it again. He put his arm around my shoulders. It was a first. It also wouldn’t help my reputation with the other cops, but I wasn’t worried about the cops. All I was worried about in that moment was the man with his hands on my arm and hand. It was such an innocent touch, but the effect it had on him, and on me, was about as far from innocent as you could get.
Edward put his arm across my shoulders, less than a hug but very much about marking territory. It’s something that high school athletes are fond of doing with their cheerleading girlfriends. Again, a fairly innocent gesture, but it was a sign of possession. This is mine, not yours.
I was so not Edward’s, but in that moment I might have volunteered to be anyone’s if it would just get Olaf off me. I was fighting off the memory of our last kill together, and it was making my skin run cold even in the Vegas heat.
Olaf gave Edward the full weight of that sunglass-covered gaze, and then, slowly, he let go of me. He stepped back from us.
Edward kept his arm across my shoulders and looked up at the bigger man. I just stood there and fought the urge to shiver, and finally lost. In a heat so hot it made it hard to breathe, I shivered.
It made Olaf smile again, and for just a moment I had the very clear thought that someday I would kill him. Maybe not this day, or even this time, but eventually he’d cross a line and I would kill him. The thought helped steady me. Helped me feel more myself. It helped me smile back at him, but it wasn’t the same smile. His was damn near sexual; mine was the smile, most unpleasant, that has frightened bad guys across the country.
Olaf frowned at me. Which made me smile wider.
Edward squeezed my shoulders in a one-armed hug, then stepped back.
I caught the glances of some of the cops who were outside the station. They’d watched the show. I doubted they understood everything they’d seen. But they’d seen enough to pick up the tension between Olaf and Edward and me. They’d draw the same conclusion that Olaf did, that Edward and I were a couple and it was hands-off.
They were already convinced that I was fucking all of them, so why did it hurt my feelings to do something that confirmed the rumor?
I looked at the police looking at us, and found two of the cops who weren’t looking at us. The moment I saw them, I knew who the fourth marshal was.
Bernardo Spotted Horse was standing very close to a female deputy. She had shoulder-length hair tied back in a ponytail. Her small triangular face was turned up to him, all smiles and almost laughing. Even the uniform couldn’t hide that she was petite and curvy.
Bernardo was tall, dark, and handsome, even by the standards that I was used to. His hair was actually blacker than mine, that black that has blue highlights in the sun. He’d tied it back in a braid that trailed nearly to his waist. He said something to the deputy that made her laugh, then walked toward us.
He was still broad-shouldered and slim of waist, and he’d been hitting the gym regularly. It all showed. He was also American Indian, with the perfect cheekbones genetics can give you. It was a pretty package, and the deputy watched him walk away from her. The look on her face said plainly that if he called her later, there would be a date. But then Bernardo knew that. Lack of confidence with women was not one of his problems.
He smiled as he came toward us, sliding sunglasses over his eyes, so that he looked model perfect by the time he got to us.
“That was quite a show you just put on,” he said. “They’re more convinced than ever that the big guy here is dating you, or wants to, and that Ted here already is. I’ve done my best to persuade Deputy Lorenzo that I am not in the running for your affections.”
I had to smile, shaking my head. “Glad to hear it.”
He got a funny look on his face. “I know you mean that, and let me say that it’s an ego blow.”
“I think you’ll recover, and the deputy there looks like she’ll be happy to help ease your pain.”
He glanced behind and flashed her that world-class smile. She smiled back and actually looked flustered. This was from a smile yards away.
“This is like Old Home Week,” I said.
“It’s been what, almost three years?” Bernardo said.
“About that,” I said.
Olaf was watching us, not like he was happy about it. “The girl liked you.”
“Yes, she did,” Bernarado said. His white T-shirt looked good against the tan of his skin. It was the only thing that ruined what I’d started calling casual assassin chic: black jeans, black T-shirt, boots, leather jacket, weapons, sunglasses. His leather was on his arm like Olaf’s, because it was too damn hot to be wearing leather. I’d left my leather in St. Louis.
Bernardo offered his hand, and I took it, then he raised my hand and kissed it. He did it because I’d let him know I didn’t think he was scrumptious, and part of him hated that. I shouldn’t have let him do it, but short of arm-wrestling him, there was no graceful way to stop the gesture once it started. He shouldn’t have done it because of the deputy. I shouldn’t have let him because of the other cops and Olaf.
Olaf looked not at me but at Edward, as if waiting for him to do something about it.