A pretty face had never swayed him before. It sure as hell wasn’t going to stop him from doing his job now.
She was furious…and afraid. And the fear made her even angrier.
They’d left her in the ten-by-eight-foot room for half an hour. The minutes had crawled by as she’d sat and waited.
Something bad had happened to Michael. She knew it. Wasn’t going to be dumb enough to deny the obvious. She also knew that the cops thought she was involved.
Not an ideal situation.
Her fingers tapped against the wooden tabletop. She’d been isolated from the moment she entered the police station. If only she’d been allowed to see some of the other cops, she would have been able to use a bit of her power. She wasn’t gifted with the power of complete mind control—only level-ten demons could totally control the thoughts of humans—but she was still pretty damn good at planting hypnotic suggestions into the minds of susceptible humans, as were most of her kind. The hypnotic power was one of the succubi’s most coveted powers. Right then, she sure had a few suggestions dancing around in her head that she’d like to—
The door to the interrogation room was shoved open. It slammed back against the wall with a thud.
Cara sucked in a sharp breath, but instantly schooled her features. They wanted her afraid, so she’d be damned if she let them see her fear.
Deliberately, she leaned back in the chair. “What took you guys so long?” As if she didn’t know they’d been watching her through that ridiculous two-way mirror. Humans. They always thought they were so smart.
But she knew they’d been watching her. Well, no, not them exactly.
Just the first cop. The human. Brooks. He’d been watching her almost constantly. At first, she’d felt his stare. Heavy on her skin like a touch. Then she’d turned to the mirrored wall. She’d seen past the illusion—she was used to peering past the veil—and she’d seen him. Standing in the opposite room. Fists clenched. Eyes on her.
His attention had fueled her anger. Her fear. And added a spark to the desire she shouldn’t have been feeling.
The man is trying to lock you up. Focus! Oh, damn, but she’d always had a hard time not thinking about sex.
And the guy oozed sex. Rough, wild sex. The kind that made a woman scream as she came.
Cara cleared her throat, and realized that neither of the detectives had answered her question. No big surprise.
The shifter—she’d learned his name was Colin Gyth; he’d finally gotten around to introducing himself during the ride over—walked slowly across the room. He stopped at the edge of the mirrored wall. The perfect position to observe, while not blocking the view from the hidden room.
Brooks stalked slowly toward her. He pulled out one of the two remaining chairs at the table. The legs of the chair scraped against the floor, the sound almost like a shriek. He sat down, positioning himself directly across from her, and placed a folder on the table between them.
Her gaze dropped to the folder and her palms began to sweat.
“Sorry we were gone so long,” Brooks said, and his brown eyes seemed sincere.
Liar. She knew the guy wasn’t the least bit sorry. The waiting—that had been a deliberate police tactic. One she didn’t like.
“I wanted to gather some information to show you.” He smiled at her then, a warm, friendly smile.
Goose bumps rose on her arms. “Is this what you do?” She asked, the question slipping out without a second’s hesitation.
He blinked. “Excuse me?”
Her fingers tapped against the table top. Her nails were bloodred and sharp, and she had to fight the urge to gouge them into the wood. “I asked if this”—she paused, gestured to him, the table, and the silent shifter—“was what you usually do.”
“This?”
“Yeah, this whole idiotic routine where you act like you’re the good one. Like you give a shit what I think or want.” Cara shook her head and her hair brushed across her shoulders. “Got to tell you, I’m really not buying it.” He was good at pretending, she’d give him that, and the bit probably worked great on humans. But for someone with her enhanced senses, it was an insulting waste of time.
She could smell the sweat on his skin. See the anger that tightened his eyes and mouth. Past the falsely warm gaze, she could see the core of power and the lurking fury.
Good cop? More like furious, hard-as-nails ass**le.
Cara leaned forward, slapping her hands down on the table. “Why don’t we cut the games?” She asked. “Just get to the part where you tell me why the hell you drug me out of my house in the middle of the night.”
He stared back at her. One moment. Two. Then he pushed the file toward her. “I want you to take a look at the photos for me, okay? See if you recognize anyone.”
Gyth shifted slightly, a ripple of muscle and menace.
She didn’t want to look inside the file, but her fingers reached for it, anyway. Flipped it open and found—
Michael.
It was a black-and-white shot of him. Shoulders, neck, and head. His eyes were closed. His face devoid of all expression. For a second, one wild second, she thought he might be sleeping.
But the hope died immediately as the truth hit her hard, making her stomach knot and her lips tremble. “He’s…dead.” She bit her bottom lip, trying to stop the tremble. She didn’t want Brooks to see her weakness.
She’d been afraid he was dead, from the moment they’d mentioned his name—
Michael. He’d been the first to make her want more than just fleeting pleasure.
“What happened to him?” Cara was proud of the fact that her voice didn’t quaver. The words were stilted, a bit cold. But she was cold. Ice cold, all the way to her soul.
“Don’t you know?” Brooks asked softly.
A shiver worked over her body. “I didn’t have anything to do with this!” She’d never hurt Michael.
“Didn’t you?” Brooks leaned forward. “Earlier you told me that you didn’t even know the guy.”
“No, I didn’t.” She’d never denied knowing Michael. “I just asked you if his name should mean something to me.” Not a lie.
His lips thinned. “Why didn’t you just tell me you knew who the guy was?”
Good question. Not so easy to answer, but she tried, saying, “I was scared, all right? I didn’t know what was happening, didn’t know what you wanted from me—”