To make the killer pay. To scream. To beg.
To die.
“I was the one who found Lance’s body.” He backed away from her, began to pace along the edge of the pool. “I got there and caught the stench of death through the door.”
“If you were there, then you saw that it was suicide and—”
“People who kill themselves don’t have terror frozen on their faces, Cara! They don’t die with their eyes wide open and their mouths twisted into a scream!”
Her nails bit into her palms. She felt the wet trickle of blood easing over her flesh. “You’re saying—”
“Cut the crap! We both know Lance didn’t kill himself, and damn it, I never told what I knew! I never said a word to anyone about you killing him, and you turned and ratted me out to your lover the first chance you got.”
“I didn’t.” Said as softly as his words earlier had been. The wind caught her voice, carried it to him.
Cameron frowned. “You—you said you told him, that—”
“I did tell Todd.” And she would make that choice again. “But I swear to you on my sister’s grave that I did not kill Lance.” Truth time. The air she sucked in tasted bitter. “I was going to, but he got away from me. I wanted him dead, so badly—but I did not kill him.” If he hadn’t pulled that knife, she would have.
And she wouldn’t have regretted the action for a moment.
He stopped, stared at her. “No, no, you killed him because of what he did to—”
“I didn’t.” She held his stare, eyes direct.
His hand trembled as he rubbed his eyes. “But if you didn’t, who did?”
Niol watched the crowd as the humans and demons and God knew what else began to flow faster into Paradise Found.
There was a tension about him—a tightness around his mouth, a narrowing at his eyes—that worried Todd.
“Shouldn’t your men have been here by now?” Over an hour had passed since he’d arrived at the club.
Niol lifted a brow. “Strays probably didn’t want to come willingly.”
Yeah, he imagined they didn’t. “That won’t really matter to your men, will it?” Of course, they weren’t really men.
“It might slow ’em down a bit. Nothing too severe.” Niol’s shoulders stiffened then, and his head turned quickly toward the entrance. “Shit.”
A redhead stood just inside the door, her purse clutched tightly in her hand, and a very determined expression on her pretty face.
Wait a minute, that woman was—
The reporter. Holly Storm.
“Told ’em not to let her kind in.”
“Her kind?” Was the lady Other, too?
“Reporters.” Niol spat the word. “As if they ever know what the hell they’re reporting.”
Holly’s gaze swept across the room. Locked on the bar. On them. Then she started marching forward.
The tension rolling off Niol seemed to double.
No way. The demon couldn’t be scared of Holly Storm.
She stopped in front of them. Kept her eyes on Niol. “I want to talk to you.”
He smiled at her then, more a baring of his teeth. “Looks like that’s what you’re doing.”
Her cheeks flushed a bit, and her eyes darted to Todd. “Detective, what are you doing here?”
He tapped his fingers on the bar. “My favorite singer performs here.”
“Bull.” Her small nostrils flared. “You’re just like he is, aren’t you? Well, fair warning, I’m going live with this story. It’s time the world finds out the truth about—”
Niol laughed. Hard.
Holly Storm glared even harder.
“I’ve got proof, you know. I’ve been following this Bondage case every minute. I know the killer isn’t human. He’s some kind of demon—like you—and he’s sucking the life right out of his victims. He used that woman, Susan Dobbs, that he met here to trap them and—”
Todd jumped to his feet. “What the hell did you just say?”
Holly’s mouth hung wide open. She clamped it closed and tossed him a hard stare.
“What did you just say?” He demanded, patience gone—well, it had never really been there.
“You already know this—”
He sure as hell hadn’t known that Susan and the incubus had met at Paradise. Todd growled.
Holly started talking again, fast. “I got sources— Other sources—that place Susan here as a regular about four or five months back. She was coming in here plenty, until he”—she glowered at Niol—“gave a standing order that she wasn’t allowed on the premises.”
What would it feel like to break a demon’s neck? Todd wondered as he eyed Niol and clenched his teeth. “You didn’t mention that Susan was a visitor here.” And the detective who’d been assigned the task of tracking Susan’s connections to the case—Flint, a guy who’d been transferred up from Narcotics less than a year ago—was going straight to the top of his shit list.
“You didn’t ask,” Niol drawled.
“Flint sure as hell did!”
Niol just stared at him then, with those fathomless eyes. Todd remembered, too late, something Niol had told him days before.
A third of the officers on your force are demons. I know what’s happening in this town every moment. Don’t think I don’t.
Hell.
The reporter watched them with green eyes that saw too much. Todd tried to rein in his temper—he sure would have liked to have rip into Niol, but now wasn’t the time.
“Seems you’ve got some pretty interesting sources, Ms. Storm.” He’d bet his next paycheck that Susan Dobbs had been one of those sources. “Do you realize that you’ve been getting information from a killer?”
She didn’t blink. “Easy to lay blame on the dead, isn’t it?”
“Yeah, real easy—when the dead was a murderer.” He paused. “Are your other sources just as reliable as she was?”
Her eyes held his. “Well, at least they’re better than the police department’s.”
Hit. He inclined his head. “Rest assured, we are doing everything possible to make certain that the Bondage Killer is stopped.”
“Well, when I go live with my story at ten tonight, and tell everyone in Atlanta the truth about what’s happening, then I think you’ll start truly doing everything that’s possible.”