Resenting the name, and resenting that I liked it more when he said it, I slid the helmet onto my head and walked over to the bike. Sawyer sat astride, kicking the peg to get the engine started. I waited until his signal before sliding on behind him. I fixed my hands to his shoulders, but he repositioned them around his waist. I flexed my fingers, meeting the strong muscles of his stomach.
“Slide closer,” he said, his voice coming directly through a speaker in the helmet. “Keep your good arm tight around my waist and hang on. I’ll go as slow as I can.”
“I hate you,” I murmured, and his warm laughter filled the helmet a moment later.
“No, you’re enjoying groping me right now.”
I snorted but didn’t deny it. He revved the engine, pushed the kickstand up, and we were off. He weaved through the streets of Buxton, flowing in between cars and trucks, making his movements seem like art rather than necessity. We didn’t catch any traffic lights, and it was only fifteen minutes later that we drove into the parking lot of one of the ubiquitous twenty-four-hour mini marts that dotted the streets of Buxton.
“How was that?” Sawyer asked when he shut off the engine and put the bike back onto its stand.
“Horrifying.”
“Horrifying because you liked it so much?”
“I miss my truck.”
I began to fumble with the strap on the helmet, but he pushed my hands out of the way and undid it for me. Sliding the helmet off, he placed it onto the seat of the bike and looked at me. His fingers skimmed over the bruising on my neck where the bite was still fresh enough to sting. I winced.
“How are you feeling?”
I narrowed my eyes at him. “Why are you asking me now and being so sweet?”
He dropped his hands. “Sweet? What do you mean?”
“Oh, come on. You were playing it all cool in the office, and now that we’re alone, you’re fussing over me like a mother hen.”
He quirked a brow at me. “Are you trying to tell me you don’t like me fussing?”
Nope. It was quite the opposite. I was enjoying the hell out of it. But he was my partner, and there were boundaries we had to respect. I stepped away, putting some more space between us. “We should go in there and speak to the clerk.”
Great deflection, Cat.
“Yeah, we should.” His eyes drifted down to my waist. “Reaver not with you?”
“He was this morning.” I shrugged my good shoulder. I had to figure out the pattern with him.
Reaching into his under-arm holster, he pulled out my side arm. “You might want this back then. Fully loaded, and I cleaned it for you too.”
I placed it into the holster and clipped it in. “Thanks.” He was being sweet, and it was shoving me off-balance. I had to get myself back on track. I jerked my chin at the E-Z-Mart. “Okay, so what happened here exactly?”
“Sanjeet Kapur reported a young boy wandering around his shop at two o’clock this morning. When Kapur approached the kid, he attacked, but Kapur fought him off.”
“How? Those little bastards are strong.”
“I don’t know. That’s why we’re here to find out.”
Following Sawyer inside, I tried to think of some good questions to ask Mr. Kapur. The main one I wanted to know was how in the hell did he fight off a baby vampire? I’d grappled with them and they are inhumanely strong, especially given their size.
The minimart was just as I imagined it would be. Row after row of snack foods guaranteed to give any pot smoker their munchie hit. Two out of the four walls were floor-to-ceiling fridges filled with everything from milk to soda to that manufactured blood source that had just been put on the market by a well-known drug company.
“Mr. Kapur?’ Sawyer asked as he approached the raised front counter.
“Yes?”
Sanjeet Kapur was a Sikh. His ocean-blue E-Z-Mart polo shirt complimented his warm apricot colored dastar, the steel bracelets on his wrists jangling melodically as he moved. His long beard had flecks of gray in it, and I figured anyone who worked at a twenty-four-hour stop and rob like this would have more than their fair share of gray hair.
“I’m Detective Sawyer Taylor.” Gesturing to me, he added, “And this is my partner, Officer Cat McKenzie. We’re from PIG, and we’re here to ask you some questions about what happened last night.”
His dark brown eyes lit up. Yes, the cavalry had arrived. He walked around the counter and joined us on the main floor. Shaking our hands, he said, “What would you like to know?”
Pulling out his phone, Sawyer started the recording app and got down to business. “What time did your shift start yesterday?”
“I was here from five o’clock, like normal.”
“How long are the shifts?” I asked.
“Twelve hours. My normal shift is five a.m. to five p.m., but my replacement didn’t show up yesterday, so I stayed on.”
“What does your boss have to say about those hours?” I asked.
He smiled, and I saw the younger man he used to be. “I am the boss, although my wife will be upset with me for working more than twelve hours. She worries.”
“I don’t suppose what happened last night filled her with comfort either.” I glanced around the store, looking at the door and the corners of the ceilings as Sawyer continued his questions.
“What time did the young boy come in?”
“It was a little after two o’clock.”
“Are you sure?”
He nodded. “Check the security footage. The controls are behind the counter. Just go around through the door there.” He pointed to the end of the counter.
Sawyer nodded to me, and I did as he asked, finding myself on the raised platform. I looked out over the counter and saw that my view of things was actually amazing. From this height, whoever was working could see what people had in their hands, or whether they were carrying a weapon.
Ducking down,
