With that thought in mind, Baker took a quick shower, jacked off, and went to bed.
Chapter Nine
Slipping his cell phone out of his front pocket, Officer Johnson dialed the number in his contacts. He listened to it ring as his eyes scanned over the apartment building. The hour was late but he knew the person he was calling would not only still be awake, but would answer.
From the dark interior of his police car, Johnson listened to the dispatcher’s voice crackle over the radio. He ignored it. There were more important things to do right now than grab some juveniles out past curfew. Let the other officers handle the call.
Just when he thought the call would forward to voice mail, the ringing stopped, replaced by an eerie quietness. But no one said a word. The person who answered his call waited for Johnson to speak.
He shifted in his seat, the groan of his utility belt sounding loud in the hush of his car. “I saw one of them bite a human tonight.” As Johnson sat there and recounted what he had witnessed at the gazebo, there was a grunt on the other end, telling him the person was listening.
“I followed the human to his apartment. I have to tell you, the biter didn’t look like a vampire to me. His teeth were longer, thicker, and he didn’t drink any blood.”
“How do you know this?” Mr. Kenyon asked in a slow, deeply intrigued tone.
“He bit the human on the shoulder, not on the neck. If I had to guess at what I saw, the guy’s teeth looked more like what a dog would have than a vampire.” Johnson turned the radio down so he could hear better. The dispatcher was really starting to work his nerves right now. The upbeat tone was irritating enough, but the guy sounded like he really enjoyed his job. Johnson curled his lip.
In his opinion, the guy needed to be replaced.
“I’ll have my secretary add this bit of information to his file.”
Mr. Kenyon’s tone told Johnson that he didn’t believe him, that Johnson was more of a crackpot than an observant informant. If the money wasn’t so damn appealing, Johnson would tell Kenyon to shove his condescending tone up his ass.
But the money was too good. Johnson wasn’t going to risk losing his pay over his foul temper. His bad attitude had gotten him in enough trouble with the police force. He had a feeling Kenyon wouldn’t tolerate such disrespect.
Johnson didn’t care anything about Kenyon except his wallet. The man was rich as fuck, and Johnson wanted a piece of that cheese. He needed to convince the man he wasn’t a wacko. “I can get pictures.”
He waited, his breath tight in his lungs as he once again glanced up at the apartment building. Kenyon hated chatty people, so Johnson didn’t say a word, letting what he said be absorbed.
“Bring me the person in question and I’ll double your payment.”
Johnson’s cock got hard over the amount Kenyon was talking about. He could retire, tell the force to go to hell, and go someplace with sandy beaches and miles of ocean as far as the eye could see. “I’ll get him for you. Where do you want him delivered?”
“Call me when you’ve secured him and I’ll give you the address.” Kenyon hung up.
Johnson tucked his phone away, smiling to himself as he started his car and headed toward the farmhouse that was on Reno Davis’s driver’s license.
* * * *
Reno felt the fine hairs on the back of his neck stand as he walked from the diner. The foreboding feeling that trickled over him was a warning that someone was following him. It wasn’t the same feeling he got when he was near Baker, so he knew it wasn’t his mate playing their little game.
No, this one was different.
His coyote was telling him it was a threat. But Reno didn’t need his beast confirming what he already knew. As he walked to his motorcycle, which was parked just outside The Café, Reno pretended to bend down and tie his boot. Using the cover, he casually glanced around, pretending indifference when he spotted the cop car parked a few buildings down. He immediately recognized the officer behind the wheel.
Johnson.
What in the hell was that guy’s problem? Reno couldn’t think of one thing he had done—aside from Baker calling on him for loitering—that would spur this man into dogging his every move. The guy was relentless.
Maybe if he tossed Johnson a box of donuts he would leave Reno alone. The thought amused him as he stood and walked into The Café. This was not where he intended to go, but he knew if he went to his motorcycle, Johnson would harass him.
Already in a funk about Baker, Reno was not in the mood to deal with an asshole cop with a grudge against him. He ordered his drink and took a seat at one of the tables. From where he was sitting, it gave him an unobstructed view of the cruiser without Johnson being able to see him.
If the guy wanted to play the waiting game, so be it.
It wasn’t like Reno had anything better to do with his evening. He thought about going over to Baker’s, but ever since his mate snapped at him last night, Reno was in a sullen mood.
He had been lost in thought all day at work to the point he was forgetting things he was supposed to have completed. Bear wasn’t too happy with him right now. Reno couldn’t blame his boss for being irritated, but having a fight with his mate—or harsh feelings at the most—wasn’t something Reno enjoyed.
He slowly sipped his drink, his eyes fully focused on Johnson. He once again was trying to figure out why the cop was following him.
Finally the cruiser pulled away from Reno’s hog. He was free to take his tired ass home. He had parked
