John

Parked in front of the police station, I stare at my phone. I've been staring at it for ten minutes, and I still haven't done what I need to do. I've almost talked myself into it a dozen times, and I've talked myself back out of it just as many.

I wish I could ignore it — could pretend it didn't happen and make myself a promise not to make the same mistake again — but I can't.

Trust, as my old master used to say, is the bedrock we build on. Break that, and the rest falls apart.

Sighing, I wake the screen with a touch and dial the number from memory.

Just as it does every time I call, it rings three times before it picks up and a soft, gruff voice speaks.

"John."

I clear my throat. "David. How are you?"

A barely audible chuckle, subtle as ice clinking in a glass, comes across the line. "I always know you're in trouble when you begin with pleasantries, John. What happened?"

I chew my lip, phone pressed to my ear, and watch as a pair of officers exit the station and walk to their vehicle. I don't speak until they've gotten inside and shut the doors, as if they could possibly hear me from inside my own car.

"I bit someone."

"Oh? Do you need help with the body?"

"What? No. He's not dead."

"I see. Why not?"

"It wasn't that kind of bite."

Silence greets this proclamation. I see David in my mind as clearly as if I stood before him, seated at his luxurious desk. His leather chair creaks as he leans back, swirling cognac in a wide, shallow glass, studying the amber liquid like a diviner gazing at a crystal ball.

"Tell me."

I take a breath. "I met someone — someone connected to the case. He's a potential target, and he's been staying with me for protection. I..."

"You're attracted to him," David states calmly.

"Yes."

"You succumbed to it."

I grip my phone so hard the case cracks. "Yes."

"The effect?"

I hesitate, remembering how quickly the marks had healed, leaving barely a trace on Carlos's beautiful, smooth skin.

"John? What effect?"

"None. There was no effect."

Silence. I imagine David rising, his powerful leonine frame as graceful as ever, despite his years, as he crosses to the wall of glass and looks down upon his city.

"Can you handle this, John? Or do you need someone... unbiased to take over?"

"It's under control," I say, maybe too quickly. "I had a lapse in judgment. It won't happen again."

"See that it doesn't. I love you, John. You are more a son to me than my own flesh and blood ever were. It would pain me greatly to lose you."

I swallow. "You won't. I'll take care of this. And—"

The call disconnects.

I frown at the screen, then sigh and pocket my phone. David always knows when there's nothing left to say.

Or when there are things better left unsaid.

Carlos Martinez has a light inside him. He's something special. I knew that the moment I laid eyes on him.

That was fine; that was something I'd seen before. There are people like that in every town, and every city. Beautiful, blessed, good people who just happen to attract shit like shit attracts flies.

It was when I got a whiff of his scent that I knew he was real trouble.

Of course, I thought he was my prime suspect at the time, and I could shield myself. I had defenses.

It was only once I ended up with him in my house, sleeping across the hall from me, cooking me meals and tempting me with every pretty, dark-eyed glance, that I found myself teetering on the edge of a cliff.

Then he'd pushed me, and I'd gone over.

Way over.

So far that I'm still falling, and the bottom is nowhere in sight.

~ ★ ~

"Turner! What the fuck, man?"

Latoya stands in front of me, hands on her hips and a frown of displeasure curving her full lips into an upside down half-moon.

"Sorry, babe," I say, winking at her playfully. "There's just not enough of me to go around."

"Fuck you."

"Well, like I said, I'm busy. But my weekend's free."

She slams a long-nailed hand in front of me, leaning over my desk and giving me an unwanted face full of uniform-clad bosom.

"You gonna play the 'misogynistic pig' card with me, you better be ready for the 'femi-devil' counter move, 'cause I will destroy you, motherfucker. I will take this to HR and you will come out tarred and feathered, you understand?"

Sighing, I collapse forward, resting my head on my folded arms.

"You win. You got me, Toy. Just tell me what you want."

"What I want is to work with my partner, the way my job description, my union contract, and my partner agreed upon. Now, is that so much to ask?"

Rubbing the back of my neck, I grin up at her sheepishly. "No, not usually. Truth is, I just want this case to be over so we can get back to normal. I miss you already."

"You're full of shit." Latoya grins, reading me like a book. "But, fine. Just tell me what you need. I got your back."

I lift my brows at her. "Really? 'Cause a minute ago you were gonna put me through the meat grinder."

She laughs and smacks the side of my arm. "Nah. You know I love you. We're family."

"Hm. I don't know whether I should feel threatened or reassured."

Latoya winks and runs her long fingernails through my hair. "How 'bout both?"

I laugh under my breath. The two of us work well together because, while in a lot of ways we're polar opposites, we share a similar sense of humor. We can joke around all day, but we know where the lines are, too.

"All right." I turn my attention to my computer and type a few quick commands. "You wanna get back together, here's what you can do for me. Find me everything on one Sonia Martinez."

"Person of interest?"

"No; missing person."

Latoya pulls out her phone, her demeanor shifting from playful to all business.

"Missing since when?"

"As of today?" I look up as I do the math in my head. "Twenty-two years."

"Holy shit. The fuck are you on to?"

"I don't know yet," I say, rubbing the side of my face. "I'll email you the details. Just... be discreet, okay? This may or may not pertain to the Peters case."

"Wait... Martinez..." Latoya's penciled brows arch high. "Is this about your man?"

I bristle involuntarily. "He's not 'my' anything," I growl. "Just keep it close to the chest, okay?"

"Okay, okay." She raises her hands in a sign of surrender. "I got you, bro. Just don't leave me hanging, okay? We're still a team, right?"

"Right." I grin at her, mustering as much enthusiasm as I can.

She rolls her eyes, flips me off, and heads for her own desk

I laugh under my breath, not fooled by the display. We work well together because we see each other's bullshit plain as day. There are no secrets between us — none that matter, anyway.

Turning back to my computer, I study the file on the screen, including the grainy photo of a pretty young woman hugging a smiling, brown-eyed boy, and frown.

Shortly after this picture was taken, the woman would disappear, and the boy would lose his mother. Eventually, he'd grow up to be a beautiful, brown-eyed man; and one day he'd come here, to this weird-ass town, and cross paths with a monster.

Or rather, with two monsters: the one that killed Kyle, and me.