“I’m not deaf and I’m not stupid,” Duncan drawled. “The day you do what you’re told is the day I sprout wings and a halo.”
A rueful smile replaced the scowl. “Fine,” Frank muttered. “Her heart is still missing.”
“No surprise. What else?”
Frank stepped closer, pitching his voice so it wouldn’t carry. Word would eventually leak through the police department that their missing corpse had been caught on video surveillance killing one of Kansas City’s most powerful citizens. But the longer they could keep it quiet, the longer they could avoid outright panic.
“Her body’s not in bad shape considering she’s been walking around the city,” Frank admitted, his voice edged with a soul-deep anger.
Duncan glanced toward the slender female who lay like a broken flower in the mud. He understood his companion’s fury.
It was wrong. Obscene.
“No obvious wounds?”
“Nada.”
“Anything to indicate where she’s been?”
Frank hesitated before giving a small shrug. “One thing.”
Hah. Duncan knew he could count on Frank. The man might be a norm, but nothing got past his eagle eye. “What?”
“The tags in her clothing.”
Duncan glanced back to Leah, skimming a puzzled gaze over the stretchy pants and top.
“What about them?”
“The clothes we found in her house were all from the local mall.”
Duncan whipped his gaze back to his companion. “How do you know?”
Frank flashed a droll smile. “Are you f**king kidding me? I have three teenage daughters. There’s not a store in that mall I haven’t been dragged through a thousand times.”
“I guess that would do it,” Duncan admitted, startled by the tiny pang of envy. He’d always known he wanted children. It was imprinted into the O’Conner DNA. So why was he suddenly feeling that he wanted those children now? Christ. Did men have biological clocks? Shaking his head at his moronic thoughts, he returned his attention to what Frank was trying to explain. “Is there something different about the clothes she’s wearing now?”
“Your Sung.”
“My Sung?”
“Your Sung. A local designer,” Frank said. “Very high end.”
Weird. Why would the necro go to the expense of designer clothes for a corpse he was going to toss in the river?
“Thanks, amigo,” he said, making a mental note to check with the more exclusive salons.
Frank stiffened, his glance shooting over Duncan’s shoulder. “The cavalry has arrived.”
Duncan turned, prepared for the uniformed medics who were swiftly moving to wrap Leah in a protective bag that would hide her from prying eyes as well as preserve any evidence on her body.
What he wasn’t prepared for was the sight of Callie and Fane, who followed closely behind the medics.
Had they already traveled to Russia and back? The thought would have boggled his mind if he hadn’t been even more boggled by the lightning strike of awareness that sizzled through him.
Dressed in casual jeans with a white tee and her stunning eyes covered by sunglasses, she should have been easily overlooked. She was certainly tiny enough to be lost in the crowd.
But there wasn’t a male gaze that didn’t linger on the exotic crimson of her spiky hair and the grace of her movements as she halted several feet away while Fane moved to place himself directly between the medics and the gathered human police.
Like a rabid guard dog.
“So it would seem,” he murmured to Frank in absent tones.
“I heard you stayed at Valhalla.” Frank cleared his throat. “And not alone.”
Duncan sent his companion a warning glare. “You have a problem?”
“Don’t get your panties in a twist.” Frank lifted his hands. “I was just wondering what’s going on with you.”
With a snort Duncan began walking toward Callie. “Tell you what, Frank. When I figure it out you’ll be the first to know.”
“You’re playing a dangerous game, amigo,” the coroner called behind him.
Callie stood, stiff and uncomfortable as Duncan casually strolled in her direction.
It wasn’t that she wasn’t pleased to see him.
She snorted softly. Not pleased? Why not just admit it?
She was tingling from head to toe.
Just catching sight of him with his golden hair shimmering in the sunlight and his lean body shown to advantage in the faded jeans and black tee made her heart leap and her mouth go as dry as the Sahara.
She wanted to cross the rough ground and wrap her arms around him. Not just because she remembered the pleasure of being pressed against those hard muscles; delving into the dark history of Lord Zakhar had left her feeling edgy. As if a shadow was looming over her. She could definitely use a hug.
Instead, she wrapped her arms around herself, acutely aware of the suspicious glances from Duncan’s human friends. They’d clearly heard rumors of Duncan staying at Valhalla and were keeping watch to make sure he hadn’t been “contaminated” by the freaks.
And, besides, she hadn’t yet decided if seeking comfort from this particular male was really a wise choice.
Had she?
The disturbing question whirled through her mind as Duncan halted in front of her, making her even more edgy.
“Hello, Sergeant O’Conner,” she murmured in a tight voice.
“Sergeant O’Conner?” He blinked. “Is that a joke?”
“I didn’t expect you to be here. We just returned to Valhalla when the Mave asked that we bring the medics to collect the body,” she found herself babbling, taking a step backward. “She hopes that an autopsy of Leah might reveal the precise magic the necromancer used to animate her.”
Duncan frowned as he studied her wary expression. “What the hell is going on?”
She licked her lips at his impatient question. “I just told you.”
“You told me why you’re here,” he growled. “You haven’t told me why you’re acting like I didn’t spend the morning kissing every satin inch of you.”
Heat stained her cheeks. “Shh.”
“Answer the question or I’m going to get a hell of a lot louder.”
“It’s . . . I didn’t know—”
“Know what?”
“If you wanted people to realize that we’d been together,” she said, giving a startled grunt when he grasped her arm and tugged her toward a trail leading back up the bluff. Far enough away to make sure no one could overhear them, although they remained in full view of the gawking cops. “Duncan. What are you doing?”