Some of the tension in Detective Khoury’s shoulders relax. “Perhaps we should start over,” he offers and sticks out his hand. “Jack Khoury.”
Oh, he wants a peace treaty. How disappointing. “Valkyrie Dalton, but I go by Val.” I clasp his hand with mine and give it a firm squeeze. My dad always told me that handshakes should be firm, like a show of confidence.
Fuck, I really should call my family at some point. How long has it been now?
Jack doesn’t release my hand immediately after the shake. Instead, he dips his head down, eyes never leaving mine. “You aren’t a werewolf.” My spine goes rigid as his powerful aura brushes mine again. “What are you?”
My heart stammers in my chest, but I refuse to let my nerves show. “Is that your first official question?”
He pulls back and studies me for a second. “Yes.”
I scoff and rip my hand free. So much for a peace treaty. “As you said, I’m a bitch. Ask your questions so we can get a start on this case, Detective Khoury.”
His jaw clenches, but he goes back to leaning against the bar. “What brought you to the club tonight?”
“I wanted a drink.” I casually reply, studying the chipped black polish on my nails. It isn’t technically a lie; I did have a drink after all.
“Why come to a strip club and not a regular bar?” Jack presses.
“I like a show.” I meet his disbelieving expression. “I think the female form is beautiful. Don’t you, Detective? Or do you prefer something a little meatier? Maybe some sausage?”
He hums but doesn’t rise to my bait. “Tell me how you came to discover the victim.”
I glance down at my blood-stained shirt. “I asked Synn for a dance. I’ve never had one before; I thought I might as well try it since I’m here,” I shrug and meet his eyes again. “She told me to pick a booth and as I was picking one out, I happened to smell the blood and found the victim.”
“If you’re a werewolf, wouldn’t you have smelled all the blood beforehand?” He asks, staring at me knowingly.
I smirk. “Didn’t you say I’m not a werewolf?”
He deadpans. “Touché.” He pushes away from the bar and stands to his full height. “I’ll question Synn once the paramedics finish checking her out and then review the security footage when the manager sends it to us. When everything corroborates with your story, I’ll let you know, and we can get started with solving this.”
I swivel in my chair but keep my eyes on him. “When, hm? So, you believe I’m innocent after all?”
He gives me a cool look, eyes unreadable. “I believe you didn’t kill her, but I think you are far from innocent.”
My smirk widens. “Smart man.”
He surprises me by giving a small smirk of his own. “I wonder what your heart would weigh?”
What the hell kind of question was that? “Hearts usually weigh around a pound.”
“That’s physically,” he explains before beginning to walk away. “I’ll talk to you soon, Detective Dalton.”
I watch him go, the tension in my muscles slowly ebbing once he’s out of sight. “Fucking weirdo,” I mutter under my breath as I spin my chair to face the bar again. In a scurry to evacuate the club, the bartenders left several of their bottles out. I grab the closest one and grimace when I see my prize is gin. Still, I proceed to pour myself a shot.
Holding the glass up, I nod to the floor. “Cheers, dog men. Here’s to my punishment.” I throw back the bitter, clear liquid and wince as it burns going down.