Into the Darkness Read online

  Detective Broussard’s fingers tightened on her calf. “So, someone was tryin’ to get into your apartment last night?”

  His deep voice calmed jangled nerves, while his thumb smoothed up and down the back of her ankle in an oddly comforting caress. “Why not run again?”

  Natalie shook herself, grateful he’d changed the subject and drawn her back from that doorway. “I didn’t run before. There just wasn’t anything left to stay for.”

  “You were trying to lure him today, weren’t you?” the female cop asked, not letting her partner deflect the original line of questioning. “What would you have done if he’d come near you?”

  Natalie tossed back her hair and narrowed her glance. “I bought a gun. It’s in my apartment.”

  “And if he’d caught you in the open today? What the hell good would it have done you?” The other woman snorted. “Do you even know how to fire a gun?”

  “He doesn’t work like that, during the day, and yes, I can hit what I’m aiming at,” Natalie said, lifting her chin.

  Detective Tomas shrugged. “So you know enough to flip the safety off. How come you’re so sure he wouldn’t go for you in the daytime?”

  “I just know he prefers to strike in the dark,” she said, feeling like a butterfly tacked to a mounting board beneath the other woman’s hard stare.

  “You know this based on…?”

  “Three deaths—my parents and my best friend.” Natalie resented the woman’s look of disbelief and gritted out, “I just know he waited for the dark to take them.”

  “Let me guess. You took a walk today, just in case he was watching. Were you taunting him?”

  Natalie flushed.

  Detective Tomas lifted one eyebrow. “If he only strikes at night, why lure him during the day?”

  Put that way, her actions didn’t make much sense. Maybe, she didn’t have it right. Natalie shrugged again, feigning indifference while her faulty strategies deflated like a slow-leaking tire. Damn, I’m so tired of being scared. “Maybe I am getting a little paranoid,” she admitted, lifting her gaze to Detective Broussard and wanting him to understand. “But I feel like someone’s watching me all the time.”

  The female detective leaned across the table, her eyes alert for any misstep. “You dressed special for him—made sure you looked sweet as candy—all sugar and spice.”

  Angry at the accuracy of the woman’s guess, tears of frustration clouded her vision. “I’m tired of waiting for it to happen!” She halted. She hadn’t meant to shout. That wasn’t her—wasn’t who she’d been before. Under their relentless stares, she added, “But then, the birds attacked…” She glanced away and discovered she’d bunched the fabric of her skirt in her hands. Frowning, she smoothed out the wrinkles.

  Detective Broussard patted a scabbing puncture with antiseptic, and then tossed the gauze toward a metal trashcan. “All done,” he said, aiming a glare at his partner.

  Was he ticked on her behalf? Was she pathetic for hoping he felt a little drawn to her?

  “Yeah, what was up with the birds?” Detective Tomas asked.

  Suddenly, the last bit of tension drained from Natalie, leaving her tired and confused. “I don’t know. I was just giving them my beignet when that tiny whirlwind whipped through them.” She turned to the man, relieved to see compassion softening his eyes. She paused before blurting, “Did you see their eyes?”

  He shook his head. “What about their eyes?”

  Natalie didn’t want to say it, knowing how weird it would sound, but decided to forge ahead anyway. It seemed important to mention it—and she always followed her instincts. “Their eyes were red. I’ve never seen pigeons with red eyes, and they seemed to glow.”

  His expression remained neutral, but he leaned forward. “Could it have been a trick of the light?”

  With him so close, his broad shoulders filling her hungry gaze, the room seemed smaller, warmer. The moment paused like water dripping slowly from a faucet.

  “Maybe you were scared,” he said softly.

  She hadn’t imagined what she saw, but the truth made her sound foolish. So she nodded. “Probably.”

  “You know,” he said, his tone intimate, “you need our protection.”

  She closed her eyes for a moment before returning his penetrating stare. “I don’t want anyone else hurt…”

  “Do you think your parents and friend were killed because of you?”

  She shrugged.

  “Let me guess,” the female cop said, heavy sarcasm in her tone. “You just know.”

  Detective Broussard threw his partner a quick irritated frown before returning his gaze. “We can take care of ourselves, Natalie.”

  The faint French inflection in his pronunciation of her name made her shiver.

  “We’re going to keep watch over you ’til we catch this killer.”

  “You?” she asked, and then wished she’d bitten her tongue rather than reveal her eagerness.

  “Sure,” he said, a small smile lifting the corners of his lips. “But we’ll swap off. I’ll get a daytime team to stake out your place. Cheech and I will take the night shift.”

  Not him personally. “Cheech?” she asked, glad he’d misinterpreted her previous question.

  He nodded to Detective Tomas. “My partner, Chessa is her given name. I’m Rene—since it looks like we’ll be getting to know each other.”

  For the first time in weeks, Natalie felt a glimmer of hope the nightmare might end. Like maybe, for once, she didn’t have to face her fears alone. She wished she could believe they’d keep her safe.

  “I’m not through with my questions, Rene,” Chessa Tomas gritted out.

  Rene Broussard’s back stiffened, but he nodded to his partner.

  Feeling abandoned, and a bit like she was watching a “good cop-bad cop” inquisition, Natalie straightened in her chair and turned her head to face the other woman. “What else would you like to know?” she asked, keeping her tone even.

  Chessa blew out a breath, and then folded her arms over her chest. “Are you sexually active?”

  Only the incessant buzz from the fluorescent lamp hanging above the metal table broke the long silence.

  Natalie’s face heated in mortification.

  “Cheech, is this necessary?” Rene asked, his expression dark and guarded.

  At Chessa Tomas’s curt nod, he sat back in his chair.

  Natalie’s glance cut to his partner. Her emotions, brittle as thin glass, spiked toward anger once more. “Why is that any of your business?”

  “Just answer the question.”

  Chessa’s unrelenting stare and the naked nature of the question itself cracked the barrier of Natalie’s self-control. Her eyes watered, and she shook her head. “No.” Such a stupid question. What did she know?

  “When was your first period?”

  Sweet Jesus! What the hell did that have to do with any of this madness? Nevertheless, Natalie cleared her throat and whispered, “Two weeks ago.”

  She heard Rene’s indrawn breath, but didn’t dare face him. So she was a freak of nature! Only her mother hadn’t thought it odd. She’d assured her that her time would come.

  Chessa Tomas stood and walked around the table to kneel beside Natalie’s chair. The first hint of an emotion other than impatience softened the tense angles of her face. “Are you feeling sexual hunger for the first time, now?”

  Natalie clamped her lips closed and glared at the woman.

  “Natalie, I really do need to know.” Chessa’s steady gaze, now free of any derision, held hers for a tense moment.

  Tears spilled from her eyes unexpectedly. She crossed her arms in front of her and nodded.

  Chessa looked away. “Well, fuck!”

  “What the hell’s this all about, Cheech?” Rene asked, his voice strained.

  Chessa drew in a deep breath and stood. “I hate to burst your bubble, partner, but I think we’ve got bigger problems here than catching a serial killer.”


  CHAPTER 2

  Rene raked a hand through his hair. “What the fuck was that all about?”

  “You tell me!” Chessa crossed her arms over her chest, a scowl darkening her face.

  Rene avoided her gaze and instead looked through the two-way mirror into the interrogation room where Natalie sat alone, staring into the mirror like she could see them. “What are you talkin’ about? I wasn’t the one grillin’ her like she was the killer. We both know that’s not true.”

  “As far as Memphis is concerned, she’s still a suspect. And you were playing footsie.”

  Rene’s cheeks burned. “I was just cleanin’ her up.”

  “Dammit! I’ve never seen you touch a female suspect except to cuff ’em.”

  Rene shot back a glance at Chessa. “She was injured. Bleeding. I did what anybody would.”

  She leaned in close, staring into his face. Although shorter by a head, she still managed to look pretty intimidating.

  Knowing what he did about her capabilities, he knew that look wasn’t a bluff. He stiffened.

  “Tell me, Rene.” Her voice was soft, but held steely intent. “Don’t you think your reaction was just a little odd? You were all over her.”

  His shoulders bunched tight with frustration as he clutched the frame around the mirror. He hated how she’d read his interest that easily. She might be his partner, but she didn’t have any business getting inside his head. Nobody did. He glared. “What? You jealous, Cheech?”

  Rather than reacting with a sarcastic jab, which was her favorite defensive weapon, Chessa laid her hand on his forearm. Her always caffeine-intense expression was now taut and worried. “Think, Rene! She’s putting out ‘fuck-me pheromones’! You’re drawn to her, but it’s happening too fast to be natural.”

  He shook his head, narrowing his eyes. “She’s an attractive girl. My reactions were entirely normal.” He bit out his words. “I didn’t cross any lines.”

  One eyebrow crooked upward. “Then why didn’t you let me tend her wounds?” she asked softly.

  Uncomfortable beneath her searching stare, he shifted on his feet. He didn’t have a real answer. “Maybe, I didn’t want you tempted by all that blood.”

  “Fuck that!” she muttered beneath her breath, closing her eyes briefly. She let go of his arm and faced the mirror. “Her attraction isn’t natural. But I may know what this is.” She closed her eyes, her mouth twisting. “No wonder I was so pissed off.”

  “Chessa,” he growled, “You’re not makin’ any damn sense. Those questions you asked her—”

  Chessa avoided his glance and stared at Natalie. “Believe me, you don’t wanna know the truth. In fact, it’s better you forget what you heard.”

  “She’s not a suspect.” He tensed, expecting Chessa to disagree.

  Instead, she nodded. “I know. By the age of our cold case files, we both know she can’t be the killer.”

  “All right, I’m confused. If we’re sure these crimes are related and she’s not a suspect, then why grill ’er?”

  Chessa glanced back into the interrogation room. “Look, I can’t say much right now. Just trust me when I say this is outside the department’s jurisdiction.”

  Something about the urgency in her voice raised the hairs on the back of his neck. He held back the questions teeming inside his head.

  Chessa began pacing like a nervous cat. “I have to act fast—and you have to trust me. She’s a goddamn disaster magnet, and we have a full moon rising soon. I need you to keep her out of trouble—out of sight.”

  “Me? Where the hell are you gonna be? And what does any of this have to do with the moon?” At her impatient glare, he waved her off. “You know? I don’t wanna know.”

  “We’ll drop by her place, check it out,” she said, as if he hadn’t spoken. “Have her pack a few things. Then I’m leaving you.”

  “Dammit, Cheech, what’s goin’ on here?”

  “Trust me. Take her to your place. Make sure you’re not followed. I’ll contact you later.”

  “This is family business, isn’t it?” Of course it was. The prickling that bit the base of his spine during Chessa’s heated interrogation should have warned him. “Your people aren’t gonna harm her, are they?”

  “I promise that’s the last thing we want to happen. But you’ll be alone with her.” She grabbed the lapels of his jacket and pushed him back against the glass, getting in his face. “Whatever you do, partner, don’t fuck her.”

  Rene’s head snapped back. “I don’t fuck on the job!” he seethed.

  “Well, you’ve never faced her brand of temptation before.” She pressed him harder, her expression dead earnest. “Don’t let her get a bite.”

  He sucked in a deep breath, disappointed. “She’s a vampire then?”

  Chessa shook her head. “I’m not a hundred percent sure what she is. But we don’t have time for this conversation.”

  “Probably better to keep me clueless, huh?” he asked, a bitter taste at the back of his throat. Natalie Lambert wasn’t for him.

  That’s all he really needed to know.

  “Yeah. Buy me some time, partner. I have a lot to do, and the night’s slipping away.” She released him. “Let’s roll.”

  Natalie unlocked her apartment door, for once not bothering to peer up and down the hallway. Tonight, she had two armed cops at her back.

  She opened the door and breezed through, glancing around her one-room apartment to make sure she hadn’t left anything embarrassing in plain sight. The room was a mess, but she hadn’t been planning on bringing guests home when she’d left earlier that day. Natalie turned to allow the officers to pass inside.

  “Pack what you need for a couple of nights,” Chessa said, her glance flitting around the apartment.

  Natalie wondered if the woman was always this intense. Her rudeness was beginning to wear on every last one of her nerves.

  Rene’s gaze was on the puddle of rumpled clothing next to the sofa bed. Her nightgown, a sheer blue scrap of silk, lay on top. When his glance met hers, Natalie wasn’t imagining the heat banked in his expression. No, indeed. She could feel it like a blast from a furnace.

  She thrilled at knowing the feeling was mutual. She’d stopped fighting her attraction. Having never felt such a strong sensual pull at just the sight of a man, she considered this anomaly a gift. One she’d just enjoy for what it was, because she didn’t have the luxury of time to explore these new feelings.

  Natalie opened her closet and pulled out a small suitcase. Under his watchful stare, she grabbed underwear, T-shirts, and a couple pairs of shorts and jeans and shoved them into the case. Then she hurried to the bathroom, packed her toiletries, and grabbed another nightgown from the hook at the back of the door.

  When she returned to the main room, she dug under the bed for her sneakers. She tried to ignore the fabric of her sundress riding up her thighs as she reached, and the fact Rene’s gaze burned over every inch of exposed skin.

  She stilled. Funny, how she could feel that—as if he’d touched her.

  “What’s going on here, Nat?”

  Natalie jerked back, sneakers in hand and looked toward the door of her apartment.

  Her next-door neighbor hovered in the doorway, suspicion evident in the scowl furrowing his forehead as he eyed her two bodyguards. Simon looked as though he’d just risen from bed. His sun-streaked blond hair stood in spikes around his head. He wore a rumpled brown T-shirt bearing his video store logo and blue jeans. His feet were bare.

  “Hi, Simon.” She darted a glance at the two cops whose hands already rested on their holstered weapons. “It’s okay, he’s a friend.”

  Simon’s glance flickered over Rene, then caught sight of the female detective. His back stiffened. “You’ve never had guests, Natalie. I was a little worried when I heard the commotion.” When he looked back, his frown was darker than before. “You were gone a long time.”

  Natalie gave him a half-hearted smile. Explanations would have to wa
it. “I had a little problem. These two police officers rescued me.”

  He raised an eyebrow—a silent question mark.

  Her lips twisted. “They know everything. And I’m not busted—yet.”

  His lips clamped shut, but his frown reflected worry.

  Warmed by his concern, Natalie gave him a half smile. When her whole world had been ripped apart, Simon had been there for her, welcoming her back.

  “Who’s this guy?” Rene asked, a dark glower hooding his eyes, his shoulders taut like he still expected he’d have to defend her.

  His caution on her behalf excited her, even while she reminded herself he was just doing his job. But his alarm was misplaced—Simon with his lean build posed no physical threat to Rene Broussard. “This is Simon Jameson, and like I said, he’s a friend. I worked in his video store while I was in college. This is his apartment I’m subletting. He lives next door.”

  “Does he live alone?” Chessa bit out, asking Natalie even though her gaze drilled Simon.

  “Yes. Unless you count Kestrel.”

  Chessa’s expression grew impossibly darker.

  “Kestrel’s a bird, although I don’t think she knows it,” Natalie added, wondering at the suspicion clouding Chessa’s face and the answering enmity she read in Simon’s straight posture.

  Chessa stalked toward Simon. “You’re aware of the problems following your friend, yet you didn’t call for help?”

  Simon’s eyes narrowed, but he didn’t back away from the woman’s intimidating stance. “I’m here to support Nat. I watch over her, but it’s not my place to interfere with how she handles her problems.”

  “Even if she’s not aware of possible solutions?”

  “Her destiny will unfold as it is meant to be revealed,” he replied, his words clipped.

  What the hell did that mean? Natalie shook her head. The two seemed to know each other, and Simon obviously didn’t like the frosty detective very much—a sentiment Natalie could match. “I don’t understand. Do you two know each other?”

  “No!” Chessa whirled on her heels. “You’ve got everything?” At Natalie’s nod, she turned to Rene. “You know what happens now. Remember what I told you.”