'Grey said the killer hated him. He didn't say why.'
'Then taking you to that warehouse to kill you is a form of torturing Grey?'
She nodded. It also meant that the killer had read Grey's mind and knew how much he cared for her.
It was a thought that sent both warmth and fear rushing through her veins. God, would fate be such a bitch as to let her glimpse possible paradise in Grey's arms, then snatch it away?
Probably.
Ignoring the chill that ran down her spine, she glanced at her watch. 'If we're quick, we might be able to get to that warehouse and rescue Grey before I go to that meet.'
Jack didn't move. 'You sure you want to do this?'
'You want to catch the killer, don't you?'
'Yeah, but—' 'No buts,' she said, with a slight smile. 'You brought me onto this team to play decoy, and that's exactly what I plan to do. And it might be our one and only chance to stop this person.
Jack stared at her a moment longer, then simply said, 'Let's do it.'
The wind skated around her bare legs, touching her skin with ice. Eryn shivered and rubbed her arms as she eyed the old building at the bottom of hill. Like most of the buildings around here, it had fallen into disrepair as the council and residents argued over whether this whole area should become park land or more residential space. In the meantime, it was a playground for louts, drug users, and the homeless, as well as being a nice hidey-hole for murderers.
She turned at the sound of footsteps and watched Jack approach.
'The cab let the old women off at The Commodore Hotel,' he said, as he stopped.
'Hard to check the register when you have no idea what name she's using.'
'True. But there was a Grey Jamison checked in. We showed the concierge Grey's pic, and it was definitely him.
The front desk hasn't seen Jamison since he went up to his room early this afternoon, and he wasn't answering the phone.'
Because the killer had him. Question was, how? 'I gather your men checked the room?'
He nodded. 'He's not there, and there was no evidence of foul play.'
Meaning Grey hadn't put up a fight? Why the hell not? She rubbed her arms, her gaze drifting back to the warehouse.
God, she hoped he was okay.
'Everyone's in place here,' Jack continued. 'Infrared reports three figures inside that warehouse.'
'He left guards?'
Jack nodded. 'There's one man near the front entrance, two near the back. We're guessing that if Grey is there, he's one of these.' He handed her a Taser. 'You'll have to get close for this to knock them out, but I'm guessing that with what you're almost wearing, it won't be a problem.'
She slipped the Taser into the special pocket sewn into the back of the short leather skirt. Combined with the studded leather bra, the matching dog collar that now included tracking and audio mikes, and six inch stilettos that could certainly double as a weapon, she had on what she liked to describe as her eye-popping outfit. Jack had been surprised that she even had such an outfit in her wardrobe. He obviously thought her as staid as everyone else, but hey, she was a shifter and had her wild side—even if she didn't bring it out to play very often.
She struck a pose. 'So you like what you see?'
'Darlin', if those boys don't bone up the minute they see you, I'll dye my hair pink.' He handed her a riding crop and several long strips of leather. 'Just to complete the look.'
'I won't ask where you managed to find one of these at this hour.' She looped the soft leather and tucked them into the side of her skirt, then accepted the whip. Her gaze scooted down his body. Talk about boning up…
She grinned. 'You're enjoying your job again, I see.'
'I'm a man, you're breathtaking, and a reaction is natural.' His grin faded, his expression becoming serious. 'Be careful in there, and remember, just give the word and we'll be with you in seconds.'
She nodded, placed a kiss on his cheek, then stepped back and called to that place deep within, where the hound dog lay waiting. Energy surged in response, running through her, around her, momentarily snatching away sight and sense as it reshaped and changed her body.
In beagle form, she headed towards the warehouse.
She pricked her ears and sniffed the air as she trotted down the hill. Though she knew there were at least a dozen cops scattered around the area, she couldn't hear them, and she certainly couldn't smell them. Jack had said he'd called in the best, and it looked as if he hadn't been exaggerating.
And she knew then that the only reason she was going into that warehouse at all was because she was the only one who had a hope of sorting out friend from foe via smell. Especially if those two men in there also happened to be face shifters.
She slowed as she approached the warehouse, searching the air for the aroma of the man who stood near the entrance. Pine and musk, intermingled with the stale stench of sweat, teased her nostrils. She wrinkled her nose and moved a little closer. Damn it, why did villains never seem to bathe? Or was it simply something in their base smell that made them seem so sour to her senses?
She slipped in through the semi-open door and stopped in the shadows. Villain number one was half concealed by a wooden crate, and more than half asleep. She went back outside, shifted shaped, then boldly thrust open the door.
There was a scramble of movement, then a voice said, 'Stop right there, and get your hands… Jesus!'
'Mr. Harding?' she said, keeping her voice low, throaty.
'I'm here, as requested.'
His gaze scooted down her body, and came back up, filled with heat. 'Lady, as much as I hate to admit it, I think you've got the wrong address.'
She slapped the whip lightly against her thigh, watching him for several long minutes. The smell of his excitement began to stain the air. 'This is one-three-four Jaybel Drive, is it not?'
'Well, yeah, but—' 'Then I have the right address.' She slid her gaze slowly down his body, then deliberately licked her lips. 'I must say, you're in better shape than some of the other clients I've… cared for… here.'
He adjusted himself quickly, cast a quick, almost furtive look toward the shadows on his right, then looked back at her. His change of plans was evident in the lustful light in his eyes. 'Then maybe I am Mr. Harding. What do you plan to do for me?'
She strode towards him, her stilettos drumming a sharp tattoo on the concrete. The noise wouldn't carry to the other guard, simply because this warehouse was large and divided by lots of rooms.
She stopped when there were still several feet between them, and raised the whip, pressing the tip lightly against his chest. 'That depends on how rough you like it.' She let her gaze slide down to his hand. 'That gun real, or is it a toy you bought along for us to play with?'
He licked his lips. 'What do you mean by play?'
She raised her eyebrows, and slid one hand up her thigh, pushing up the skirt and touching herself lightly. 'Cold metal inserted in warm places can give a delicious thrill.'
He made a strangled sort of sound, and tried to step forward. She pressed the whip harder against his chest.
'Naughty boy. You paid to be spanked and dominated, not the other way around.'
His breathing was becoming more and more rapid, and the scent of his desire swirled around her. Despite her utter distaste for the man, she couldn't help being a little aroused by what she was doing. Maybe this was a game she could play with someone she liked.
Grey, for instance.
She smiled at the thought, and in that moment, awareness surged, a firestorm that burned through every nerve ending.
The voice was groggy, the question uncertain, but it was Grey, there was no doubt about that. The surge of desire and relief was evidence enough of that.
