“Fine. Let me rephrase that, more so than usual?”
“Aside from the usual mess, nothing looks strange.” Gillian turned in a circle, and her eyes landed on a flash of white peeking out from the piles of folded clothes on her desk. “I didn’t see this here before.” She walked to her desk and lifted the clothing to find a large, white package tied with a red ribbon next to her laptop. “I would’ve remembered.” She looked for a return address, but there was none, and her heart thumped against her ribs.
“Don’t touch it.” Mulroney crossed the room in a single stride to stand beside her. “It could be evidence.”
“Let me see if I can pick up on what’s inside.” Gillian waved her hand over the box and sucked in a breath. “I detect a kind of dark, twisted energy surrounding it.” She glanced at Mulroney, and a line appeared between his brows.
“If that’s the case then I’m sure one of the other witches would’ve picked up on it immediately. They’d never deliver a dark object to your room.” Garrett glanced toward the hall. “Was someone else here?”
“We have a plant service that comes every Saturday. There’s a lady that’s been coming here for years. She’ll occasionally drop off packages if she’s stopping by my room to water my plants.”
“Are there any disgruntled customers from the shop who’d send you hate mail or weird objects? How about stalkers or ex-boyfriends out for revenge?”
Her heart began to pound. “Not that I can think of, but I guess anything’s possible.”
“All right then, please, take a step back.” Mulroney pulled a small pocketknife from his keychain and cut a slit at the top of the box. She caught a pungent whiff of rotten meat. When he opened the top, blood seeped out and ran along the sides. “Jesus, turn around, Miss Howe.”
“What’s in there?” Gillian peeked inside to find the bloodied, mangled body of a white cat. Salem! Staggering back, she screamed and began to sob. “It’s my cat.”
“Fuck…I’m sorry.” He picked up the note left in the box and read the chicken scrawl aloud.
“Keep your mouth shut. Stay out of our way, or you and your friends will be next. If you go to the cops, you will never see Brooke again.”
Mulroney cursed and reached for his phone. “I’m calling for back up. I need to take the evidence to the station and have forensics run some tests. Grab your suitcase and your computer. You need to pack up your stuff. You’re not staying here. You’ll need to come with me.”
Her stomach still felt queasy, and her head spun in a million different directions. “Where are we going?”
“Somewhere you’ll be safe. I’m taking you to my place.”
Chapter 8
Lifting her phone from the front pocket of her hoodie, Gillian stared at the screen, hoping and praying Brooke would text her to tell she was okay. But it was wishful thinking on her part. She didn’t even have her phone on her, and she doubted Lawrence would let her use his. She exhaled and glanced out the window of Mulroney’s Jeep. Streetlamps lit the sidewalks, but very few people wandered around the city at this hour of the night. “I don’t get why you’re taking me to your home.”
If someone had asked her the day before to bet on the odds of getting invited to his place, she’d say the chances of winning the NJ lottery were probably much higher.
“The only one who can protect you against the threat of a vampire is another vampire,” he murmured from the front seat. “We’re the only ones strong enough or fast enough, except for a demon.”
It surprised her when he pulled onto Garden Street. The treelined drive was one of the poshest neighborhoods in all of Hoboken. He parked in front of a turn of the century brownstone and cut the engine.
“Home Sweet Home,” he said and popped the trunk. Before she could reach for the handle, he opened her door and wheeled her suitcase up the sidewalk. She got out of the car and followed him to a black wrought iron gate. He swung it open and extended his hand, motioning for her to go ahead of him.
The crisp fall air made her shiver. She looked up into a crescent moon and saw blood, a sure sign of trouble. Her mind drifted to Brooke and then to poor Salem, and a sharp pain sliced across her chest. This was turning out to be one of the worst nights of her life, and she’d had some doozies. She walked up the steps to an ornate black front door. Two black urns filled with yellow mums cut through the darkness.
Turning, she stared down at him, not able to hide her surprise. “Wow, this is your place? It’s not at all what I expected.” Crap did she say that out loud? She blamed it on the state of shock she was probably still in.
“Oh? What did you expect?” He walked up the stairs and his arm brushed hers, sending a tingle along her skin. After he pulled out a key, he opened the door. A buzzing noise sounded. They both walked into the hallway. He punched some numbers into a keypad, and the blaring stopped.
“Why would a vampire need a security system? Who would be foolish enough to break into your place?”
“You’d be surprised. I’ve put a lot of dangerous creatures behind bars.” Mulroney shut the door and bolted the lock in place. His eyes grew dark, almost steely. “You might find it hard to imagine, but there’s a lot of people I’ve managed to piss off over the years.”
“With a personality like yours, I would’ve never believed it for a second,” she said with mock sarcasm.
Mulroney flicked on the lights in the hallway, illuminating the earth-toned décor. Her gaze darted to the natural wood blinds and the wrought iron chandelier. A maple table with cream fabric-covered chairs added to the serene aesthetic. The place gleamed, and it was clear from the upscale décor that he spared no expense. She tried to keep her mouth from hanging open.
“You’re staring.”
“Sorry. I guess I didn’t realize detectives lived like this.” Her face heated. “That was rude. I shouldn’t make assumptions.”
