I smiled. ‘Be kind to Detective Sergeant Grace.’
Lukas snorted. ‘I plan to stay well away from Supe Squad. You’re the only police officer I like.’ He handed me a bag. ‘Here.’
I blinked. ‘What’s this?’
‘Sandwich. Flask of coffee. A few snacks.’
‘I’m going to Kent, not Australia.’
Lukas gave me a long look. ‘I want to look after you. If the only way you’ll let me do that is by making sure you have lunch, that’s the way it’ll be.’
‘Thank you,’ I whispered. It might only be a packed lunch but the gesture spoke volumes.
Lukas dipped his head and his mouth descended on mine. He pressed my body to his, holding me so tightly I wasn’t sure he’d let me go. I wasn’t sure I wanted him to. His rough stubble grazed my cheek but the heady taste of him and the searing heat as he touched me meant that I didn’t care. My senses swam.
‘You can still change your mind,’ he murmured.
I closed my eyes. ‘No,’ I said. ‘I have to do this.’ I drew a breath and stepped back. ‘I’d better go. The train’s about to leave.’
‘Take care, Emma. I’ll see you in a few days.’ He gave me a dark glower. ‘Don’t die in the meantime.’
I smiled confidently. ‘Right back atcha, buster.’ Then I heaved both myself and my suitcase onto the train.
After squeezing my bag onto one of the higher shelves in the luggage compartment, I walked down the aisle to find my seat. Lukas was still on the platform, watching my every move through the window. I gave him an awkward wave just as the whistle sounded and the train doors closed. Lukas mouthed something. I squinted. Wait. Did he just say…?
‘He loves you,’ said the elderly man opposite me. The train began to pull away. ‘That’s sweet.’
I stared at Lukas on the platform as we moved further and further away. In fact, I kept staring until he was nothing more than a dot in the distance then I drew a shaky breath. We’d only been sleeping together for a week and neither of us had made any sort of commitment. He must have been saying something else. Or he was simply making sure that I wouldn’t forget about him. After all, he was the vampire Lord and he liked to be in control. Whatever, the one thing that I knew for certain was that I wouldn’t forget Lord Lukas Horvath, no matter what else this little trip threw at me.
Chapter Three
It was barely an hour from London’s St Pancras station to Appledore in Kent, where I had to change onto a bus. Strangely, despite the hollow sensation in my chest at leaving Lukas behind, it felt like I was embarking on a mysterious adventure.
I was certainly leaving behind any sense of familiarity. I had lived in the deepest, darkest Kentish countryside for the first five years of my life but I had only brief flashes of memories from that time. As the train left London and trundled through more open landscapes, I felt like I was travelling to a foreign country.
I reached for my laptop and flipped it open, then absent-mindedly pulled out the flask of coffee from Lukas’s bag. I unscrewed the lid and inhaled the rich aroma before pouring myself a cup while I waited for the train’s WiFi to connect.
Watch enough television and you’d be forgiven for thinking that most murders are committed for complicated reasons and as a result of careful planning. The reality couldn’t be further from the truth: the vast majority of unlawful killings are committed for the most mundane of reasons, with little or no forethought. The vile and violent husband who beats his wife so hard that the impact finally kills her; the drunken brawl down the pub that starts over a minor disagreement and ends in tragedy; the drug deal gone wrong… Murder is rarely complex and never glamorous.
Still, six hundred and fifty souls had been lost to murder in the previous year in the United Kingdom, and almost a quarter of those crimes remain unsolved. Usually that was down to lack of actionable evidence rather than lack of suspects, not to mention that police officers can spend weeks tracking down threads that end up having nothing to do with someone’s death. Murder is messy – but so are people’s lives.
Contrary to public belief, it was rare that such murders were attributable to supes. Supernatural crimes hit the headlines and sold newspapers, however, so they were widely publicised. Follow the tabloid press in Britain and you’d be forgiven for believing that supe crimes involving human victims occurred on an almost daily basis.
I was also aware that certain police squads would allow whispers of supe involvement to filter through communities in order to be granted greater resources to solve crimes. It was all about politics and money, neither of which helped improve the public perception of supernatural citizens. Despite what DSI Barnes had said, I doubted that the recent Barchapel murder actually had anything to do with supes.
I wasn’t with the Kent police and I wasn’t an official part of the investigation, so I didn’t have any police files relating to the killing, but there was plenty on the local news and on social media. Two days earlier, a forty-six-year-old man had been killed on his way home from a night out. His body was discovered the following morning by a dog walker; reportedly, his jugular had been ripped out. No doubt that was what had been given rise to the speculation about supes because, in theory, either a vamp or a werewolf could have been responsible for that sort of injury. But so could a human.
Although the press weren’t releasing his name, a quick search on Twitter revealed that the unfortunate victim was called Patrick Lacey. He’d worked as a local handyman doing minor home repairs for the people of Barchapel. No doubt
