Page 16 of Marked

My retort abruptly dies on my tongue when I feel heat at my back and a strong hand clamping down on my shoulder, warm knuckles brushing against the skin of my neck. His aura pulses against me and the anger behind it almost makes my knees buckle. Damn it, how strong is he?

“Is there an issue here?” Jack’s voice is calm but cold.

The two police officers stare over my head at the imposing figure that is Jack Khoury and shake their heads. I catch a glare and a sneer from the man I was arguing with before he turns with his partner to resume their post at the front door.

Jack’s grip tightens, and I feel a wave of heat shoot down my arm and across my chest despite the hoodie I’m wearing. I quickly move away before turning towards him. “I don’t need you to come to my rescue, Detective Khoury. I’m a big girl, believe it or not.”

He holds up his hands in defense. “I wasn’t insinuating otherwise, Valkyrie. Taylor was angry when she came to the scene, and when the lieutenant asked her what was wrong, she said the guys at the door picked a fight. I heard them yell at you as I approached and reacted.”

“Well don’t!” I snap, hating how his closeness makes me feel. When he was in my office, and even in the car on the way to Hustler for interviews, I was super aware of how his aura made me feel. It’s not normal.

I try to brush past him, but his hand encloses over my bicep. I curse when I feel his heat through the thick sleeve of my hoodie and try to twist out of his grip, but it’s like a steel band.

“You smell like vodka,” he says quietly, but his eyes are narrowed in a glare. “Are you drunk?”

“It’s tequila, actually,” I growl angrily and try to break free of his hold again, but he doesn’t budge. “And no, I’m not. I wouldn’t put my job at risk like that.” Not that the tiny alcohol bottles in my desk would prove otherwise. “Not that it’s any of your business, but it takes a lot for me to get drunk.”

He stares, studying me carefully. He then reaches into his suit pocket and pulls out a small, tin rectangle. He flicks open the lid with his thumb and holds it out. “You may want one before confronting our boss.”

I glare at him then look at the mints in front of my face. With my free hand, I grab one and pop it into my mouth. I chomp on it and swallow before blowing a breath at him. “Better?” I hiss.

He meets my seething scowl, nods, and releases his hold. Almost immediately, I grab the lapels of his jacket and use it as leverage to throw my knee up towards his nether region. His breath hitches when my knee lands on his groin, just an inch above his crotch and its precious cargo. With the hold I have on his jacket and the pressure on his groin, he’s forced to bend towards me, our faces close.

“Do not grab me,” I growl low. “The next time you do, I’ll shatter your balls and dislocate your dick. Do you understand?”

Jack holds my fiery stare for a moment, and I falter when I see the embers of desire in his eyes. I’m threatening his future children and he’s turned on by it? Why is that kind of hot? His gaze falls to my lips and my stomach tightens.

No, no, no. No. No matter how much he presses my buttons, I would never do that to him. Even telling myself that, it takes me longer than I would have liked to release him.

I force my hands open to release his jacket and whirl away from him to head further into the club. As I make my way along the left walkway towards the commotion, I try to calm my racing heart. I need to focus on my job, not these wild hormones.

After passing all the plush leather chairs, and long rectangular stage, I approach the VIP entrance. The area is more lit up than the main floor, the gold embellishments giving off the feel that this was only for the wealthy. On the other side of the second bar is a taped off area near two doors.

When I get to Taylor, my friend hands me a pair of gloves with wide, questioning eyes. After tugging on the plastic gloves and snapping them into place, I hold up a finger to Taylor when she opens her mouth. “Don’t.”

She puffs out her cheeks with a huff. “Later?”

“Fine.” I turn to the scene, putting all my anger and emotions away so I can properly focus on the victim. “So, what do you have for me?”

“Another female in her early twenties,” Scott begins, squatting down next to the body.

I follow his lead, kneeling to get a better look at the victim. Once again, her head is missing. The spinal cord is visible through what is left of the neck, the skin and tissue in tatters as if the head was ripped off. Blood runs down the woman’s dark skin from the stump of the neck, leading straight to the gaping hole that used to be her chest.

“Head was torn off,” I comment, leaning over the body to get a better look at the chest. At the first scene, I hadn’t been able to examine the body since I was a suspect. Being shoved face first into the victim didn’t allow me to professionally analyze it as I am now. However, it’s identical to what I saw up close and personal. “Ribs and sternum have been broken; the heart is missing.”

Jack squats down next to me, gesturing at the snapped bones with a ballpoint pen. “The bones have been broken away from the body. You can tell by the splinters along these edges.”

I follow his line of sight and nod. “As if whoever did this pulled the bones away from the body to get to the heart.”

“Why is that important?” Taylor asks.

Jack and I shrug at the same time, much to my annoyance. “It might not be,” I explain. “But most of the time, if someone has the strength to do this, they’ll just punch through the ribs, grab the heart, and yank it out. Why go through the trouble of breaking them apart first?”

“Does that mean they weren’t strong enough to punch through?” Scott questions, standing up and stepping back from the gruesome scene.

“It takes more strength to do this,” Jack turns to me with an expectant look. “What else do you see?”

His challenging tone has me gritting my teeth before turning back to the victim. I study her carefully, eyes slowly roaming over her body. There are deep scratches along her arms and shoulders, her lime green bikini and white stilettos stained with blood. Ah, the blood. I stand up to get a better view of the area around the body. “She wasn’t killed here. There’s not nearly enough blood for the trauma done to her body.”

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