“I have no idea who that is.” And she didn’t. The man had been good-looking, was still handsome, even in death. Strong bones. Sensuous lips. But she’d never seen him before.
“And him?” Another photo. Another guy with good looks and death’s kiss on his lips.
“Never. Seen. Him.” She jerked her gaze away as fast as she could.
“All three men were killed in the same way. All three were stripped. Bound. Then, their hearts…stopped.”
But that didn’t make any sense. Her kind had never needed to bind prey. The seduction was bind enough. “When?” She didn’t have an alibi for Michael. Damn, but just thinking about him hurt. She blinked quickly, trying to fight the tears. “When were these men killed?” Please, please let it be a time she could account for—
“Travis Walters,” he lifted the second photo he’d shown her. She refused to glance at it again. “Killed last Friday night. Just like Michael, it was between eight and ten, and—”
Relief swept through her, nearly making Cara dizzy. “I was singing,” she whispered.
“What?”
She ran a hand through her hair, frustrated, tired. What time was it anyway? “I’m a singer. Last Friday, I was working at Paradise Found. Go ask the bartenders, the waitresses,” she told him, her voice soft but underlined with steel. “I was on stage all night, so I couldn’t have killed that man.”
“And where were you on the eighth?” This came from Gyth. “It was a Thursday night and—”
“Singing.” The reply was automatic. She usually performed at night, Wednesday through Saturday, at the club. She’d started working there only a little over two months ago, but she loved the release of singing. The pleasure of the stage. It was almost as good as sex. Almost. “Go to the bar, it’s on Tyners Ave—”
“We know the place,” Gyth cut in, sounding less than thrilled.
Well, good. Then they could confirm her alibi and this whole terrible mess would be over. “I hope you find the person who did this,” she told Brooks, and meant the words with every ounce of her being. “But you need to stop looking at me, because I didn’t kill those men.” There was really nothing left to say. The closed door waited before her. She reached out and yanked the knob to the left.
A few uniformed cops milled around in the small hallway. They stepped forward when they saw her. She knew the move wasn’t because she was a threat to them. No, all the uniforms were males, and her scent drew them to her like a homing device.
“Exit,” she snapped, and they all pointed to the right. She brushed by them, wanting to get away and get her scent under control as quickly as possible.
Cara didn’t look back as she fled. She didn’t want to see Detective Brooks again. The way she figured it, he’d already done enough damage to her for one night.
No, she didn’t look back, though a part of her wanted to.
Beneath the rage he’d stirred, the greedy lust still burned. Sometimes it was like that for a succubus. Sometimes, she would stumble onto the perfect prey. A man who could make her want with just a look and who promised a pleasure so powerful it was a temptation to the very soul.
But she could control her needs. She’d vowed hours before to give up sex, and though the lust had caught her off guard, she’d regain her balance. As soon as she was away from the arrogant cop, the heat would lessen.
So she didn’t look back. Not once, not even when she heard him softly call her name.
He wanted to stop her. To run after her and catch her and stop her from leaving him.
He wanted to berate the others, who watched her with hungry eyes and lustful faces, even as he knew his eyes matched theirs and his face mirrored the same need.
Damn it, what was the woman doing to him? His guts were tied in knots, his hands actually shaking, and with every breath he took, he tasted her.
Shit. He was in trouble.
He called her name, an instinctual response. She didn’t stop. Never glanced back. Just kept moving that shapely ass of hers and walking as fast as she could.
As she fled.
Well, hell, he didn’t really blame the woman. If the lady was innocent, and he had to admit that he was starting to think she was, then he’d just come across as a major asshole.
“Shit.” This time, his disgust was voiced aloud. He slanted a glance at Colin. “Think the alibi will hold up?”
A grim nod. “She wouldn’t have said it unless she could prove it. The facts are too easy to check, and she has to know that.”
Yeah, that was what his instincts were telling him, too. So why had her bag been dumped at the site? What was going on?
A setup?
Or was the lady dead guilty and just jerking him around?
Either way, he had to know.
Glancing down, he realized it was edging close to 4 A.M. And Cara didn’t have a way home.
Perfect.
He hadn’t really planned to let her out of his sight. Not yet, anyway. Not until his questions were answered—fully.
He stepped forward, intent on catching her.
And was brought up short by Colin’s steely grip on his arm. “It’s not a good idea, Brooks.”
He fought the fierce need to shove the guy off him. He didn’t have time for this crap. Cara was getting away. “Why not? She’s a suspect, I’m not just going to let her walk—”
“Don’t bullshit me,” Colin snapped. “You’re hot for the woman. You have been from the moment you saw her.”
His temper began to spike. “Get your hand off me, partner.” His gaze held Colin’s glittering stare. One moment, two.
Colin dropped his hold.
Todd’s jaw clenched and he gritted, “I can want a woman and still do my damn job.” He’d always managed to get the job done, no matter what the hell was happening in his personal life.
“Just don’t think with your dick around her.” Colin’s face was rock hard. “That woman’s dangerous. Hell, she could be fucking deadly.”
Yeah, he knew that. He also knew that her lips had quivered when she first saw Michael House’s photo, that her hands had trembled—and that she’d tried to hide both responses.
When she’d attempted to leave and he’d stopped her with more photos, there had been tears in her bright eyes. Tears that she refused to shed.
The woman didn’t act like a killer. There had been genuine shock and sorrow on her face when she’d learned of House’s death.
There were some reactions that couldn’t be faked, no matter how good the actress.
“I’ll go to Paradise Found and check her alibi,” Todd said, determination filling him. After he got a few hours of sleep, he’d head out and make absolutely certain her alibis held. But, right now, there wasn’t much time to spare. The uniforms had almost been salivating over Cara. If he didn’t hurry, she’d probably crook her finger and have one of them volunteering to give her a ride home.
And that outcome just wasn’t part of his plans for the few remaining hours before dawn.
“Uh, maybe you should let me check at Paradise,” Colin told him, and the hard edge had lessened in his voice. “You and Niol don’t exactly have a good track record.”
Niol was the annoying bastard who owned Paradise Found. The last time Todd had been near him, the guy had attacked him. Sort of. Todd still wasn’t exactly certain how he’d flown ten feet across the bar when he couldn’t actually remember Niol ever touching him.
No question, the man was weird as hell.
And he really was a bastard.
But Todd didn’t have time to waste talking about Niol then. “I’m going after her,” he muttered, and figured that was really all he needed to say to Colin.
His job was now very simple. Either he proved Cara’s innocence and got to looking for the real killer…or he proved the beautiful lady’s guilt.
He hurried from the station, her sweet scent still filling his nostrils and a helpless need tightening his gut.