Brooke nodded. “I just want to go home.”
“You and me both, honey.” Gillian turned back to Garrett and exhaled. “Thank you, but you can’t keep us here. We’ve done nothing wrong and I, for one, need to get out of this hotel room. Adrenaline’s just not cutting it anymore.”
“I get that it’s been a long night for you, but like it or not, you’re now witnesses in this case. We have a few more questions, then you’re both free to go.”Garrett motioned for the officer to take Brooke back to the area of the suite where he’d been questioning her, hoping it would jog her memory. After they walked away, he pulled a chair from the desk and motioned for Gillian to take a seat. “I’m happy to get you some food or water, maybe some coffee?”
Gillian gazed up at him through the fringe of her dark lashes.“Are you planning on interrogating me, Detective?”
“Considering the circumstances you find yourself in, I think that’s a given.” He drew closer to her and stared her down. “Will you cooperate?”
“Is it going to be like the last time? Are you planning to do your bad cop routine and get all rough with me?” She crossed her arms over her chest, revealing an ample swell of cleavage. He tried to look away, but she was making it difficult in that black scrap of lace she called a dress.
Putting her over his knee and spanking her shapely ass until it turned good and red might be one way to teach her a lesson to keep her out of harm’s way. What was it about this woman that had such an effect on him? Maybe it was the fact that she had long, chestnut hair, the kind he imagined wrapping around his fist, and the warmest brown eyes he’d ever seen. And her body, hell, she could bring any red-blooded male to his knees.
“Detective?”
Her voice broke into his musings. He cleared his throat. “Why don’t you start by telling me how you ended up here in the penthouse?”Garrett knew she didn’t want to answer his questions, but he wasn’t going to give her a hell of a lot of choice in the matter. Too many lives depended on it. Cops, along with two of his best friends—special agents from the MBI, Alex Denopoulos and Cayden Teague—buzzed around the room, snapping pictures of the scene and taking samples of blood. He muttered a curse. That blood could have been hers if Kurt Lawrence or one of his thugs had anything to say about it.
“My cousin’s a matchmaker and Kurt Lawrence recently took over an international dating service. Brooke and I were invited up here for what we thought was a party, to unwind from a long day and do some networking—”
“Networking?” he cut in. “Is that what he's calling it these days?” Garrett let his eyes roam over the smooth, unblemished skin on her neck and let out a sigh of relief when he found it unmarred. His gaze roamed lower to the bloodstains on her dress, not sure how they got there, finally, to the sizeable rip up the side, showing an indecent glimpse of long, toned leg. “Are you injured?”
She glanced down at her dress before her eyes met his once more. “No. The blood isn’t mine.”
Before he could ask her whose it was, his new partner, Natalya Dubrosky, who appeared to be recording the scene, walked over to him. Dressed in a conservative navy pantsuit, she stuck out like a cop amongst the sea of scantily clad women. Her probing gaze drilled into his. “Sorry to interrupt, but I wanted to give you an update.”
Garrett had been partnered with her a short time but, enjoyed working with his female counterpart. She hailed from one of the oldest and wealthiest vampire families in the country. Females of her stature were more apt to be planning society events than work in law enforcement. But you’d never know it. She’d taken to her new position like a pro and did a damn good job.
“Excuse me for a moment, and don’t even think about going anywhere,” he muttered to Gillian over his shoulder and walked a few steps away.
He glanced at Dubrosky and let out a deep breath. “What doyou have so far?”
“I thought you’d be happy to know that a total of five vampires are in custody, including a very pissed off Kurt Lawrence. He’s being interrogated by the MBI agents as we speak.” Dubrosky smoothed her dark hair back into her ponytail, looking bewildered.
“Did they say where they’re planning to take him and the others?”
“From what I overheard, they’re taking them to MBI Headquarters, and then an appearance in front of the Council will follow. I almost forgot to show you this…” Dubrosky held up a photo on her iPad of an unconscious vampire who appeared to be bleeding all over the terrace with a set of kitchen shears buried in his stomach.
“The plot thickens. Who do we have here?” Garrett rubbed the back of his neck, his irritation mounting.
“According to his ID, his name is Damon Greystone. This is his penthouse. We’re still trying to work out exactly what happened to him. The paramedics just took him away.”
“He’s unconscious?” Gillian approached them sounding wary.
Garrett turned his attention to her and searched her face. “You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that would you, Miss Howe?”
“He attacked me first, well, not physically. We were led up here under false pretenses.”Gillian ran a hand through her messy hair. “The vampire who’s bleeding, will he make it?”
“Hard to say at this point,” Dubrosky said matter-of-factly. “My guess is he’ll probably need a transfusion.”
“I don’t feel so good.” Gillian began to shake and swayed on her feet. Garrett rushed to her side in an instant. His hand reached out to steady her, torn between wanting to shake her for putting herself in harm’s way and wrapping her in his arms.
“What’s wrong?”
“I got dizzy for a minute. I don’t know what’s worse, the thought that I could’ve actually killed a vampire, or what he could’ve done to me if I hadn’t. I guess thinking about it made me a little queasy.” This close he could see the flecks of green in her eyes and the smattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose. Gillian Howe might be a royal pain in the ass, but she was a gorgeous one at that.
“Trust me, you made the right call.” He’d known even before their eyes locked earlier that Gillian was near. He’d smelled her immediately. He was still trying to shake off the momentary panic of finding her up here with a sociopath like Kurt Lawrence. When he thought about what could’ve happened to her, his mouth went dry. He removed his jacket and draped it around her shoulders. The tempting blend of lavender and vanilla flared in his nostrils and made the front panel of his suit pants tight. His heightened senses picked up on her fear as well. Guilt slid in his belly. After what she’d been through tonight, the last thing she needed was the detective in charge checking her out.
He cleared his throat and pulled a pad and ballpoint pen from his back pocket.Unlike most of his colleagues who used iPads and recording apps, he preferred to do things the old-fashioned way. There was something personal about ink and paper that made him feel closer to the words and tied him to the case. “What’s the connection between Miss Corey and Lawrence?”
