She grinned as she crossed the road. At thirty-five, Jack could hardly be described as old, though his silvery hair gave him a distinguished appearance—at least until you looked past the hair and saw the sexy twinkle in his blue eyes, and the 'come-get-me' smile. 'You got a position on gray eyes?'
'He's in a booth at the rear right of the bar.'
'Alone?'
'For the moment, yes.'
'Has he been alone all night?'
'Been up to the bar a few times, getting drinks and talking to a few of the ladies there, but otherwise, yes.'
'You think he's waiting for someone?'
'Who knows? Besides, the bar's security cams cover the upstairs areas more than the bar itself. He might have met someone and we just didn't see it.'
'The bar's not fully covered because the action happens upstairs rather than downstairs.'
'Not all the time, lassie.' Jack's voice was filled with amusement. 'Some pretty erotic things happen on the dance floor, and in those back booths.'
'Sounds to me like you've already got your rocks off tonight.'
'I love my job,' he said solemnly.
She snorted and put a hand on the door. 'Heading in now.
Talk to you later.'
She touched the right stud, turning the voice-receive off, then pushed open the heavy red door.
Warmth rushed out, chasing the chill from her face, surrounding her in a honeyed heat that almost instantly made her want to shuck off her coat.
She stepped inside and closed the door. It was then that the many aromas hit and giddiness rushed over her. Mix layer upon layer of perfume and aftershave with the scent of humanity, alcohol and desire, and you had a somewhat lethal combination. At least to a shifter whose sense of smell was as sensitive as hers.
She left her hand on the door, using it as a support as she battled the dizziness. Why hadn't she thought to shield her olfactory sense? God, she knew better than to walk into any public area with all senses on high—and shielding was something she'd learned to do when she was still a pup.
Maybe it was the excitement of the chase. Or maybe it was the prospect of finally being able to ease a few basic aches that had made her forget. Either way, it was stupid, because she was here to chase a killer, not just a scent, and she had to remember that at all times. And she should have thought to mention to Jack that shielding meant her sense of smell wouldn't work unless she was extremely close to the subject.
Kissing a murderer was not something she really wanted to do, but she'd do that, and more, if that's what it took to stop this sick fiend from killing again. She might not have seen the bodies, but she'd seen the photos, and that was more than enough to wash away any doubts she had about her part in this. At least she had basic cop training—all employees at the coroner's office nowadays did—and she certainly had the strength to protect herself.
And while some in the task force weren't entirely convinced that the smell she'd caught belonged to the killer, she was, if only because that springtime scent had held an undertone of death. And if the suspects didn't match that smell, then hey, she possibly had three very hunky men with which to play.
When the dizziness abated, she unbuttoned her coat and watched a security officer approach.
'First time here?' he said, checking her pass, then taking her coat and offering a ticket in exchange.
'Yes.'
'First drink is complimentary, then. Just head on over to the bar and they'll scan your pass and give you whatever you want.'
She gave him a dimpled smile and watched the heat flare in his brown eyes. After six months of flying solo, it was nice to know she could still affect the opposite sex so readily.
'Thanks.'
He nodded and walked into the cloak room. She headed down the steps, but hesitated on the bottom one, allowing her gaze to sweep the room.
A long mahogany bar dominated the right side of the room. Every woman who stood there had a good eight or nine men surrounding her. Half a dozen barpersons tended to these customers, all of them women dressed in barely there outfits. Maybe to give those gentlemen who were missing out something to look at.
Warm light infused the rest of the room, giving everything a golden glow, but leaving shadows haunting the distant corners. Tables clustered the front section near the door and windows, but these gave way to booths that lined the walls, leaving plenty of room for a dance floor.
She couldn't actually see the DJ, though she knew he was here somewhere. The music throbbing across the babble of conversation filled the air with lustful melodies designed to seduce the senses and get bodies swaying. It ran across her skin as sensually as a lover's kiss, making her tingle. Ache, almost.
She closed her eyes, took a careful breath, inhaling the muted, but nevertheless rich aromas of desire and sex. God, it had been too long since she'd indulged her sensual side.
Shifters, no matter what the breed, tended to have an extremely high sex drive, and for far too long, she'd overlooked hers.
Well, not tonight. Not if she had anything to say about it.
She walked across to the bar to collect her drink—choosing French champagne, which was usually way out of her price range—then moved toward the crowd edging the dance floor.
At least half a dozen men immediately gravitated towards her. Knowing she couldn't head directly for gray eyes, she did nothing more than chat, enjoying their attention and their looks. Enjoying the heady smell of masculinity and arousal that swirled around her, making her pulse race. But gradually, she moved on, talking and flirting as she did so, but always heading toward the rear booths and bachelor number one.
Only she didn't have to go that far, because suddenly he was walking through the crowd towards her. She stopped, gaze widening, her heart leaping to the vicinity of her throat and seeming to lodge there. The images she'd seen of him on the com-screens never could have prepared her for the reality—the potency—of the man himself.
He was tall and powerfully built, with chiseled features and dark golden hair. He moved with the lightness of a vampire, yet instinct suggested he was a shifter, just like her. What breed of shifter she couldn't say, and right then, didn't care.
Not when the sheer sexual energy radiating off him burned her skin as sharply as a flame.
Their gazes met, and he paused, staring at her, his beautiful face expressionless, yet his storm-clad eyes filling with such desire it curled her toes.
And all she wanted to do was reach for him, touch him, feel the warm strength of his body pressed firmly against hers.
Damn, this was unlike anything she'd ever experienced before. Lust at first sight wasn't new—hell, she was a shifter, a mutt, and instant attraction came with the territory. But this was more than that. Not just lust, but something else, something deeper. It was almost as if they were attracted on levels that went far beyond base need.
In some respects, that was scary, if only because the man her hormones had latched onto with such ferocity might well be a killer.
God, fate wouldn't be such a bitch, would it?
He started moving again, and her gaze traveled downwards, admiring the way his burgundy sweater clung to his body, emphasizing the width of his shoulders and his powerful arms. The way his jeans hugged his hips, highlighting not only the lean strength of his legs, but the size of his packaging. Damn, he was well built—in all areas.
He stopped when there were still several feet between them, his gaze sliding casually down her body. Heat prickled across her skin, firmly igniting the deep down ache. Her nipples hardened, pressing almost painfully against the sheer material of her dress. The throbbing ache got stronger, especially when his gaze seemed to linger on her hips. For the first time she wondered just how transparent the damp dress was. Wondered if he could see she was wearing nothing underneath.
Then his gaze rose to hers again, and the desire so evident in his stormy eyes echoed right through her.
