Page 46 of The Huntress

“But Mike—?” Keeping secrets from one’s partner who was also a detective was damn hard.

Metcalfe sighed. “Very well, you can include him but no one else.”

Dazed, Callie ambled back to her desk, ignoring Mike’s arched brow. She’d tell him when they were alone. She slid into her chair, staring at her closed laptop. Beside it, a light flickered on her phone—a text awaited her attention.

Her heart leaped, then sank into the pit of her stomach. She drew in a deep breath and responded to Gabe’s dinner invitation. She needed to talk to him about her new duties. Hiding it from him didn’t sit well, especially if she chose to believe in this Rite nonsense.

“Devereaux.” Martinez’s bellow filled the open plan and everyone paused to look at him. “We have a problem. Several walk-ins claim to have performed crimes and have asked for you by name.”

“What?” She scowled. What the hell had happened to people?

Martinez shrugged. “Where do you want them?”

“Them? How many?” She threw out a hand. “Never mind, one at a time in the interview room.”

Mike grabbed his jacket and tugged it on, trailing her into the sterile room with a metal table and four plastic chairs.

She held the door open for him, ignoring the man handcuffed to the table. A shimmer and Gabe’s cologne brushed past her.

She stilled, narrowed on the mirage, and smothered a gasp. How long had Gabe been following her?

She spun on a heel and stepped out of the room, closing the door on Mike’s frown. Had Gabe been in her apartment? Seen her naked?

She squeaked, stamping her feet as she tried to contain a scream. Fuck, she’d kill him.

Chapter Sixteen

ABSOLUTION

Callieyankedthedooropen and entered the room. The urge to slam the door shuddered up her arm so she shut it on a whisper. Ignoring Mike, she circled the room, searching for that shimmer.

There! In the corner was the shape of a tall man. She rushed toward him and rested her shoulder against the wall beside him. “We need to talk about this, Gabe.”

He jerked and straightened.

She nodded and shifted away, pinning her focus on the supposed criminal.

“James Jones?” Mike read off the tablet. “Supposedly killed someone over drugs, wants to rat out his accomplices.”

“What did you do?” She narrowed her eyes, running an assessing gaze over Jones’s clothes screaming wealth. She shook her head at his pale skin, dark eyes and hair. Suckbloods were smug, expecting to avoid justice for any and all crimes. They had no respect for human law enforcement so one walking into a precinct and offering himself up? Improbable.

Which had to mean he was here for one thing.

She didn’t want to believe it—Gabe hadn’t lied about her future as a human. Then again, didn’t becoming a suckblood mean her blood changed?

She leaned in, almost setting her chin on Jones’s shoulder. He stilled, then drew in a deep inhale confirming her suspicions.

“Breathe me in, suckblood.” She kept her tone soft and friendly. “This is as close as you’ll get.”

Snapping the handcuffs, he lunged for her, his fingers wrapping around her throat. “Well spotted.”

She dangled a few feet off the floor, unable to reach for the daggers in her boots, and kicking the man went unnoticed by him. She knew better than to struggle against his hold, but she tore at his hands anyway. She was an idiot for taunting him like that.

Mike pulled his gun, screaming at Jones to drop her.

The suckblood laughed, tightening his grip until spots circled her vision.

Mike shot him, the bullets jerking Jones’s body but not weakening him.

---