'Yeah, but that's different to waking up beside me after a long night. Believe me, that can get hideous.'
'Somehow, I doubt that.' He slid the dress back up to her shoulders, then zipped it.
Footsteps approached as she climbed off him. She looked over her shoulder as Grey hastily adjusted himself. It was Dan, and his smirk was as wide as the Grand Canyon. He was also carrying a pot of coffee, and she couldn't help grinning.
He'd lived up to her expectations all right.
'You folks seem to be enjoying the… er… meal so much, I thought it only decent I give you a free cup of coffee.'
'That's mighty nice of you,' Grey said, voice bland. 'But can we get that to go? We need to leave.'
'That's a bit of a shame.'
Her grin broke loose. 'Don't think we'll make a habit of enjoying breakfast so much, Danny boy. It might not be good for your heart.'
Dan met her gaze, brown eyes twinkling. 'Don't you be worrying about my old ticker, lassie. And the occasional hard workout does it the world of good.'
She smiled as he walked away, but the amusement quickly faded when her gaze met Grey's. 'So why do we have to go?'
He nodded toward Dan. 'He'll be a little more aware of what we do and say from now on. I can't answer any more questions here. It's too dangerous.'
He wasn't lying, and yet… she had an odd sense that there was an ulterior motive behind his words.
'So, we find another diner. There's plenty around.'
'Do you really think we can hold off touching each other in another diner?'
The look he gave her was smoldering, full of heat. And yet, she wasn't buying it. Not entirely. Oh, she had no doubt that he did want her, and want her badly, but there was also an underlying niggle that he had plans for her. Plans that she couldn't even begin to guess at.
So why did she trust him so much?
Instinct, she thought. It told her he didn't intend to harm her, and she believed that one fact totally. Whether that made her the world's biggest fool or not remained to be seen.
'I'm not sexually deprived.' Well actually, she probably was, but that was beside the point. 'And I think we can manage to keep our hands off each other long enough for you to answer questions.'
'Your apartment would be safer. Easier.'
Again with her apartment. 'Why are you so determined to get me back there?'
'It's safer, simply because we don't risk being overheard.'
He hesitated. 'In my line of work, you learn not to trust the face of the person sitting next to you.'
His words had her looking over her shoulder, which was dumb when the diner was empty. 'My home is my sanctuary.
I rarely invite people back there.'
His gaze darkened almost imperceptively. 'You still don't trust me?'
Which is not what she'd said at all, though indeed that was part of the problem. She hesitated, then said, 'I have no way of checking out anything you've said, Grey. No way at all.'
Anger flicked through his expression. 'I thought a beagle relied on instinct?'
'They do, but I've learned to doubt.'
'Then what do you suggest?' His expression had gone neutral, but there was nothing neutral about his voice as he added, 'That I walk away, leave what's going on between us?'
His anger burned around her, flaying her skin as sharply as a whip. Whatever else was going on, there was no doubt in her mind that while this man might intend many things, harming her wasn't one of them. Would it be complete foolishness to let him inside her apartment? Probably. But what other choice did she really have? He seemingly had the answers she—the department—needed.
She considered him a moment longer, then said, 'Give me the name of the other possible victim. I'll pass it on to my department.'
'Genny Jones, Twenty-Fourth Street, Marshell apartments.' He paused, then added, 'It won't do them any good. They have no idea who to look for.'
'Well, apparently, neither do your people; otherwise five women would not have died.' She gestured toward the pay phone on the other side of the room. 'Do you mind moving?'
He shifted. She climbed out of the booth and walked across to the phone. After digging her credit card out of the special compartment in her coat, she swiped it through the phone slot and dialed Jack's cell number.
He answered second ring. 'Senior detective Jack Turner speaking.'
'Jack? It's Eryn.'
'Why the hell are you calling?' Though his voice warmed immediately, he sounded tired, almost sleepy. Maybe she'd caught him in bed. 'Thought you'd be dead to the world by now.'
She grinned, and refrained from reminding him she was a shifter. With a shifter's stamina. 'I've got a name for you.'
Bed springs squeaked, then paper rustled. 'What?'
'Genny Jones. Her address is apparently the Marshell apartments, Twenty-Fourth Street.'
'And she is?'
'Probably the next victim.'
He paused. 'I don't think I want to know how you know this.'
His words suggested he'd already guessed. 'We're at Greasy Dan's.'
'Damn it, Eryn, you know—' 'He's not the killer.'
'You willing to stake your life on that?'
Her gaze went to Grey's. He was leaning his butt against the table, his arms crossed and face absolutely expressionless. Yet she could taste his annoyance at her actions as surely as she could still smell his raw masculinity and thick desire.
'Yes.' And if she let Grey into her apartment, that's exactly what she was doing—staking her life on her instincts.
'I hope you know what you're doing.'
So did she. 'Remember I told you about those two women at the table? I think this Genny Jones might be one of them.'
Which would explain why she'd smelled that aroma when she was close to them.
So how come she was the next one slated to die?
Especially when the killer had been no where near her?
'Don't take him back to your apartment,' Jack said forcefully.
'Jack, if he intended to harm me, he could have done it long before now. There's only us and Dan here in the diner.
It's a perfect place for murder.'
'Yeah, but your apartment is where you feel safer; therefore it's more dangerous because you're less on guard.'
'I'm not a fool.'
'I'm not saying you are. I'm just asking you to be careful.
Especially when we know so little about this man—this
'I'm being careful. I'll see you tonight.'
He grunted. 'You'd better.'
She hung up and walked back to Grey. She stopped several feet in front of him and crossed her arms, her pose as defensive as his was hostile.
'You cannot go back to that bar tonight,' he said, voice flat.
His hearing was obviously as good as hers, because she certainly hadn't been talking to Jack loudly. 'I have a job to do.'
'You will die doing that job.'
The ice slid back into her stomach. 'Why? If the killer had been anywhere near me, I would have caught his
