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Authors: Mina Carter

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BOOK: Dead Reaper Walking
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“You told me you weren’t a siren,” he accused. “But Andrews is looking pretty damn entranced and Reilly. I haven’t seen him smile so much in like…forever.”

I couldn’t help it. I laughed.

“Believe me, I am
no
siren. And you’d know if the Sisterhood was in town. Actually, no you wouldn’t because they’d have every guy within miles bonded and enslaved to their every whim.”

I frowned, casting about for words to make him understand. “You know that saying ‘I think, therefore I am’? Let’s just say the fact that you can think, and not chained to some chick’s bed servicing her every whim is proof there aren’t any sirens in town.”

He grinned, the expression changing his face from pissed to playful. Two steps and he’d crossed the corridor to push me against the wall. I let him, liking the change of mood. Suddenly our little session this morning seemed a lifetime away.

“Not a siren, huh?” He traced his thumb over my closed lips. “Pity, I think I’d have liked being chained to your bed.”

I kissed his thumb. “It’s not my bed, remember?”

His grin was slow and sexy. “Now that, sweetheart, is a very good point.”

He bent down to claim my lips. The kiss was hot and sweet. If we hadn’t been in a public place where anyone could have come through the door at any minute, I’d have been tearing his clothes off. Troy, however, seemed to have forgotten that, his hand sliding up to cup my breast boldly through my top.

Pleasure tried to trap me in its clutches, numbing my ability to think. I fought it with a gasp. “Not here. The door—”

Troy growled, obviously not happy about being reminded. He nipped my lip, and before I’d realized what he was doing, he backed me through the door of the ladies room. Within were two small stalls. We stumbled toward the nearest, the door slamming against the wall as we crashed into it, sharing biting kisses that were more feral than sensual.

Shoving the door shut, he barely managed to lock us in before he was on me again, heat and need reflecting in the darkness of his eyes. Another gasp rocked from me as he pushed me against the wall, half lifting me to settle my legs around his waist.

I groaned aloud, my decision to switch up my clothing this morning meaning the hot, hard bulge in his jeans was pressed up close and personal where I needed him.

“We shouldn’t be doing this. Not here,” I managed between kisses and groans. He just grunted, working his way down my neck.

I shivered in delight and anticipation. Normally a hot fuck was just that. A. Singular. After a night in the sack, most guys paled, unable to sustain that level of sexiness. But not Troy. Each time we got down and dirty, it was somehow hotter than the last. Last night had been slow and sensual, each touch a promise, each kiss endearing.

Today…now. This was heat and passion and about to be a raw, dirty fuck.

“Now. Can’t wait,” he growled, shoving my skirt higher so he could reach between us. His fingertips found the edge of my panties and I whimpered. A second later hot tendrils were beneath the satin, and sweeping through the slick folds of my pussy to locate my clit.

“Hot. Wet.” His growl was passion resonating as it vibrated along the tiny hairs over the side of my neck. He used a broad fingertip to rub over my clit. Not a gentle or exploratory touch. Instead it was full on and primal, demanding a response.

I couldn’t give one, other than a hard gasp as my pussy tightened, clit throbbing in response to the touch. God, it felt incredible and I needed more. Of everything.

“You like that, huh? Me touching you. The fact that anyone could come in and find us?” He whispered in my ear, the words hitting me at the same time he rubbed hard circles over my needy clit. I nodded, leaning my head against the wall, eyes closed as I was reduced to reaction.

“Good.” The fingers of his other hand gripped my ass, biting hard when he shifted my position, lifting me higher. His fingers slid and found the entrance to my pussy. Without a pause, he thrust two fingers deep.

“Fuck!” I strained against him, needing more sensation. Just a little more.

He barked a short laugh, pumping his fingers as he murmured in my ear. “That’s the idea, babe. Hard and fast. Right here and now.”

I’d died and gone to heaven. Awash with hard need that spiraled outward, I clung to him. My pussy tightened, clutching at his fingers. I needed more. So much more. He reared back, the light catching the blue of his eyes rendered midnight by the desire washing through them.

Hard pants worked his chest, the need riding him as hard as it did me. Pulling his fingers free, he hefted me up, holding me easily as he snapped his fly open. His cock sprang free, the thick, slick head unerringly finding the entrance to my pussy.

He pushed, claiming my lips in the same movement. My moan was smothered under his lips as he drove home. All the way in one hard thrust. Delicious sensation ripped through me as I was stretched, his invading cock forcing my body to accept him. It felt fantastic, better than fantastic. I never wanted it to end.

His hips had no sooner met mine than he pulled back to drive in again. And he didn’t stop, setting up a hard and fast pace. All I could do was cling to him as he took me, letting the pleasure build to a crescendo within.

“That’s it, baby,” he growled in my ear as my cunt started to tighten, clinging to his cock. Milking him. “I want to feel you come all over my cock.”

I couldn’t help it. With a gasp I did as I was told and toppled over the edge into bliss. It washed through me, taking me under. Dimly I was aware of his grunts, the increase in speed as he dropped all restraints and slammed into me time after time, chasing his own release. Then he gasped, surging into me a last time before he stiffened and came.

His cock jerked, pulsing deep within me and I moaned, wrapping my arms around his broad shoulders. Tenderness washed over me, especially when he dropped his head to my shoulder and chuckled.

“Fuck me, that was good.” He kissed my neck, the move gentle. “Sweetheart, if you’re not a siren, then I don’t know what is.”

 

Chapter Six

 

Troy couldn’t believe he and Laney had gone at it in the toilet stall, of all places. But it had been worth it. His legs didn’t work properly as he made his way back into the café.

“Andrews decided to go with a sandwich at his desk then?” he asked when he didn’t see the big sergeant anywhere, and slumped into his seat. John looked up, his eyes narrowing. Troy had tried to return his appearance to normal after the wild ride, but John…he had more years on the job than Troy, and an eye for detail an anally-retentive OCD sufferer would envy. There was no way he hadn’t figured out what they’d been up to.

“If you didn’t find another Werewolf in the toilets, then really I don’t want to know.”

His dry tone made Troy smile. He didn’t care if John knew what they’d been up to, he felt too damn good. As fast and furious as their interlude had been, he’d felt something else buried beneath the heat. A connection he’d never felt with anyone. A soul deep link that scared and fascinated him. If that wasn’t enough to rock a guy’s world, the tenderness at the end of what should have been a fast and dirty fuck had blown him away.

“Believe me then, you
really
don’t want to know.” He took a sip from his coffee, then grimaced. Cold. He couldn’t stand cold coffee. Worst thing on Earth. After demons and celery. He hated celery with a passion.

John’s cell rang as Laney emerged from the hall. Like Troy, she had tidied herself up, but on her… fuck, she looked well-loved and sexy. So much so, he wanted to march her right back into the restroom for round two.

“Yeah… got it.” John clicked the cell off and stood at the same moment Laney reached the table. “C’mon, we got a call. Kidnapping. Sulfur found at the scene, so it looks like a para case.”

As one, he and John glanced at Laney. Her eyes slid off focus for a second before she shook her head. He let go a sigh of relief. A nod meant lifelines were active and she had to go reap. Lifelines…yeah, right. Death-lines more like.

“No reap. Just lots of lines one bad decision away from it.”

Troy arched an eyebrow as they walked toward the door. “One bad decision?”

She paused, a hand on the door frame, to look over her shoulder.

“Well, that’s kinda the default state for humanity. At any moment you guys can decide to do something dumb. One wrong step, one wrong turn and you get hit by a bus.” She smacked her open palms together. “Boom!”

“So, they’re like…all milling about in your head?” It sounded like him on the internet, with so many browser windows open that he didn’t know which way was up. “How do you stop it from driving you insane?”

She stopped. Winked. “Who said I was sane?”

He squinted in the sudden sunlight as they walked out of the bar and turned left toward the car.

“What the fuck?” Laney stopped dead in front of him, so abruptly that he almost trampled her. “Oh, no! We are not doing this. We are
so
not doing this!”

Troy looked over her shoulder, expecting to see something wrong with her motorcycle. There was. As in the hulking brute of a thing was nowhere to be seen. In its place was a big, black SUV. Like the bike, an aura of menace clung to it like a second skin. The front grill stretched into a hungry smile, hell, even the tires looked aggressive, ready to chew up the road and spit it out.

“Hey, neat trick.” Her skirt suddenly made sense. “Does it change with what you’re wearing or something?”

She shot him a look that would have frozen hell over. “No. It’s just being an asshole.”

“O…kay. I’ll just leave you two to…chat then.” Not wanting to get into that one, he backed away, hands up in surrender. Then turned tail and followed John to the car.

 

It didn’t take long to reach the home of the kidnap victim. They lived down the block from the station. Less than twenty minutes later they sat in the home of the Clarke family. John and Troy were crammed onto the smaller couch opposite the missing girl’s parents. He managed a circumspect look around, without making it obvious he was gathering intel, a skill in itself.

Photos filled the mantelpiece, arranged in artful groups on the walls. A middle-aged man and woman, the parents on the couch opposite, and a girl. Always the same girl, but different ages. From the gap-toothed first days of school, he followed her growing up through the photos to what have to be the latest; the pretty, all-American blond cheerleader type. She was obviously the apple of their eye.

He leaned forward slightly, pitching his voice to be supportive yet professional. “I know this must be difficult for you, but we need to get some details. The more information we have, the better a picture we can paint to help bring Tiffany home.”

Movement caught the corner of his eye. Laney picking a photo up to look at it. When they’d walked in, the parents looked right through her, so neither John nor Troy introduced her. A little unprofessional sure, but if they couldn’t see her and she wasn’t inclined to reveal herself, what could they do about it?

“Yes, yes, of course.” Mr. Clarke nodded, his arm around his wife supportively. “Anything we can do to help. Just get our daughter back. Please.”

His expression was open and honest. All Troy’s finely honed cop instincts told him that he was on the level. Tiffany had been taken from an alleyway on the way home from practice, her screams heard from a local diner. Unfortunately though, there was no video surveillance, leaving them chasing their tails for clues. Apart from the sulfur. That was one clue Troy would rather not have.

John shifted, drawing attention to himself before speaking. It wasn’t the good cop, bad cop routine, just their normal approach to getting the families used to them. “Okay, as far as you know, was everything okay for Tiffany at the moment? No issues with friends, she hadn’t broken up with a boyfriend recently?”

“No, no boys.” The mother sniffed, shaking her head vehemently as tears coursed down her cheeks. A sodden tissue was slowly being mangled in her shaking fingers. “Our Tiffany is a good girl.”

He resisted the urge to share a knowing look with John. They’d heard that line from more than a few parents, only to find out later little Billy or Johnny or Mary was the baddest kid on the block. And not in a cool, or hip way either, more a standing before the judge kind of way.

He covered by picking up a photo from the side table. Sometimes that was all it took for a clue or some little detail to leap out. “Is that a purity ring she’s wearing?”

If it was, as skeptical as he was, then she might be exactly what her parents thought she was.

“Uh-huh, yes. It is.” Mrs. Clarke dabbed at the corners of her eyes with her handkerchief. They were red-raw from crying. “Our family. We’re—”

Mr. Clarke interrupted, almost in defense. “We’re not human. Kind of. We’re a Seer family. We can’t risk any…accidents, shall we say?”

Laney stepped into the clear next to him and took the picture from his hands. “Shit, so you’re telling me that we have a virgin seer girl missing?”

Her sudden appearance made the victim’s parents jump, as though they were just seeing her for the first time. So other paranormals couldn’t always see a reaper either. Which made the fact that he could see her all the more perplexing.

“What the fuck?” Mr. Clarke shoved his wife behind him, his arm in front of her protectively, and glared at Troy. “You brought a reaper into my home?”

Laney shook her head, ignoring the parents. “Crap, this is worse than we’d thought.”

“I want her out of here!” Mr. Clarke’s voice grew steadily louder, his face twisted in anger. He stepped forward and instinctively both John and Troy stepped in his path. Who they were protecting though, him or Laney, Troy wasn’t sure.

“What do you mean?” He directed at Laney, but the words were almost lost under Mr. Clarke’s shouting. He turned and glared. “
Mr. Clarke,
will you
be quiet
for a moment, please? Ms. Larson is a consultant with the Oakwood PD and specializes in cases like this. She is our
best
chance at getting Tiffany back. Understand?”

BOOK: Dead Reaper Walking
4.85Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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