"Try them tomorrow night."
"I'll go to the restroom and think about it."
"I'll book a room."
"No guarantee I'll be there." Though she wanted to be. Oh, how she wanted to be. It just depended on what Jack wanted.
"I'll chance that."
"It's your money." She stepped back, even though it was the last thing she really wanted to do. As sated as she was, part of her knew they'd only just scratched the surface when it came to how good they could be together. "How will I find you if I decide to take up the offer?"
"The security officer will escort you to my room."
She nodded, but as she turned to go, he tugged her back towards him and kissed her. It was an affirmation of intent that left her shaken and stirred.
"No promises," she said, and was a little annoyed to hear the breathless edge in her voice. Damn it, she was here to do a job, and however much this man might affect her, she had to remember he was a suspect. She had to be careful around him.
A thought that hadn't exactly worried her a few moments ago. God, what kind of fool was she?
The horny kind, that's what. And after six months in isolation, her hormones were reasserting control with a vengeance. But they might just have targeted the wrong man.
"If you don't find me," he said. "I'll find you."
There was an edge in his voice that sent a tremor across her skin. But it wasn't caused so much by the passion in his voice but, rather, the almost calculating glint in his eyes.
This man was definitely after something more than sex.
And if that glint was anything to go by, he suspected that she was here for something more than what she was saying, too.
Maybe fate could be a bitch after all.
Chapter Two
Eryn fled to the restroom. After checking to ensure no one was there, she leaned against the vanity and let out a long, slow breath. Where had men like Grey been hiding all her life? Suspect or not, the man wasn't only seriously sexy, but he was seriously dangerous when it came to her blood pressure. And he certainly knew how to show a woman a good time—even in a short amount of time.
Which begged the question—why come here for sex?
Surely a man with his prowess and looks only had to crook a finger and he'd have a dozen eager women panting for his every attention—imbalance of the sexes or not.
It just didn't make any sense, especially when he'd admitted he wasn't here to find a partner with whom he could have children.
Frowning lightly, she did a quick clean up, then twisted the right ear stud. "What?"
"Having a good time, are we?" Jack's voice was dry.
"The question is, are you?" she retorted.
"Well, actually, the boys and I thought you could be a bit more vocal. Silent panting just doesn't do the job."
"Tough. I'm not a screamer." Though she had been known to yodel on occasion. It was an unfortunate side effect of being a beagle shifter. "And if you called me away to say that, I'm going to bite you next time I see you."
"I might enjoy it."
"I very much doubt it. Being bitten by a hound dog ain't quite the same as being bitten by a woman."
"I guess not." Amusement touched his voice. "We did a search on his name."
"And?"
"Grey Stockard doesn't exist."
Surprise, surprise. "How many aliases can one man have?"
"A few, apparently."
"But he does use Grey on most of them, so maybe that's his real first name."
"Possibly. But a search on the name Grey revealed thousands and thousands of them. Apparently, it was one of the more popular choices thirty to thirty five years ago."
Which was about the age Grey looked—though with shifters, you never really could be sure, as we tend to age at a far slower rate than humans. "What about his claim of knowing the owner?"
"We're checking that right now."
"What about his claim that security cruise through the bar looking for browsers?"
"The club never mentioned that sort of security arrangement, but then, they may not have figured it important."
"Even the smallest tidbit could be important on a case like this, couldn't it?" Especially if the killer turned out to be one of the browsing security officers.
"Yes. You got anything for us?"
"Yeah, he has no scent." She closed her eyes, imagining herself in his arms again, surrounded by his heat, the raw sensual smell of him that was not his actual scent, but delicious all the same. Desire stirred in her veins, a reminder that she'd only just knocked the edge off need. Complete satisfaction was a long way off yet. And, unfortunately, she very much suspected there was only one man who could fill the demands of her body.
"What do you mean?" Jack asked.
"It's like he's been wiped clean. There's nothing on him."
Nothing to track him by, which might well be the point.
"Is something like that usual?"
"No, it's extremely unusual."
"Meaning he's done it on purpose?"
"Very likely." Though how on earth did you erase a base scent?
"Then we track him once he comes out of that bar, and see if we can actually get something on him."
"You'd better use a good tracker. He's a shifter of some kind and may well sense them."
"So we use a bird shifter."
"It'd be a good idea." At least Grey wouldn't scent a bird.
"Is that all you buzzed for?"
"No. Harrison just walked into the bar. Go suss him out."
"And leave Grey? Won't that make him suspicious?"
"Can't see why. You made it clear you were here to play the field for a while."
Yeah, but she didn't want to play the field. She only wanted to play with Grey. Which was a big bad when she knew absolutely nothing about the man.
"Give me a position on Harrison."
"Table near the corner window."
"I'll go give him a sniff."
"Do that, and report back. We'll see where we go from there."
She knew where she wanted to go from there. To bed.
With Grey. "Turning you off again."
"Darlin', you could never turn me off."
She grinned. She'd learned very early on that Jack was a serial flirt. As long as they were female, he didn't seem to care whether they were young, old, beautiful or plain. He treated them all to the same level of sexy banter. Why he was still single she had no idea. The man was definitely a good catch—though, unfortunately, not her type. If she ever did settle down, it would be with another shifter, not a human. She'd seen enough mixed marriages fizzle out to not want to try one herself.
"Jack, you're incorrigible."
"That's the nicest thing anyone has said to me—does that mean we can get down and get dirty?"
She laughed. "No, it does not."
"Damn."
"Bye Jack."
She turned off the receive and checked her reflection in the mirror. The heat in her cheeks had faded a little, but not the excited gleam in her eyes. She looked like a women on the hunt, which she supposed she was. Only the object of her lust was not a man she could see at this particular point in time.
She sighed, ran her fingers through her short hair to settle it back into place, then headed out into the main bar area again, grabbing a drink before moving on in search of her quarry.
Harrison was one of several men clustered around a petite blonde. Eryn flared her nostrils, carefully searching the scents swirling around her, working through the thick maze of flowers, forest, and fruits, finally catching a brief, tantalizing taste of the one she was looking for. But the slither was gone before she could pinpoint a direction. Frowning, she looked around to ensure no one was watching her, then she slopped half of her drink on the floor. She took a step, pretended to slide, and cannoned into Harrison's hard form with a grunt.
There wasn't much fat on the man, that was for sure.