Hotter After Midnight (Midnight 1)

The black and white letters were stark: NIGHT BUTCHER CLAIMS VICTIM.

Oh Jesus. That was the last thing they needed. Night Butcher.

“No details of the body were released.” McNeal tossed the paper into the trash. “But some jerkoff managed to peer into the house with one of those high-powered lenses, and he caught a shot of all the blood.”

“He’s gonna like the name, you know,” Colin warned. He’d seen it before. Seen perps who got a high off the killing, but got an even bigger rush from the media attention that turned them into f**king celebrities.

“I know.” McNeal’s jaw clenched. “And I also know we’ve got jack for leads.”

It was time to seal the deal. Colin leaned forward. “That’s why we need the doc. She’s been treating guys like him for years; she knows how they think. She can help us, I know she can.”

The captain stiffened slightly. “I don’t think she’s been seeing guys quite like this one.” His lips thinned. “I don’t think the doctor makes a general practice of treating killers.”

“No, but we both know who she does treat.”

A reluctant nod. Then, “How do you know she’ll even agree to this? Emily doesn’t like attention, and when the press finds out, they’ll splash her name on every page of their rags.”

So she was Emily now. His eyes narrowed. There was familiarity there, a lot of it.

“Get her permission, and we’ll talk again—”

“I’ve already gotten it.”

“Do you now.” Not a question. McNeal narrowed his eyes, and Colin realized he’d just stepped on the captain’s toes.

Shit. He spoke slowly, carefully, as he said, “She agreed Friday night. Before I went to you with this plan, I needed to make sure the doc would be onboard.” And she’d agreed. Now it was just up to McNeal.

McNeal stared at him in silence a moment, two, then finally nodded. “Well, then I guess I’d better make a few phone calls and get her officially attached to the case.” He reached for his phone.

Colin took the hint. He rose, headed for the door, then paused, unable to contain his curiosity. “Captain, just how did you and Dr.

Drake meet?”

The phone receiver was cradled at McNeal’s ear. For a moment, his lips curved in a somewhat taunting smile. “When you’re ready to tell me your secrets, Detective, I’ll tell you mine.”

“I want more than just sex.”

Emily lifted a brow as she studied the succubus stretched out on her couch. “And what exactly is it that you do want, Cara?”

Cara pounded her small fist against the leather cushions. “I want someone to want me, me! Not some hyped-up dream of a sex goddess!”

Ah, now here was the tricky part. “Well, umm, you know, you actually…are pretty close to being a sex goddess.” A succubus was created to entice men, born with a high level of pheromones. Just the scent from one of Cara’s kind had been known to drive mortal men wild with lust.

Of course, normally, the driving men wild with lust bit worked out well for the succubi. They derived a shot of magical power from the sex act. That power enabled them to alter their appearances, to live longer—heck, most succubi thought it was a pretty good deal all around.

Cara was definitely not like most succubi.

She sat up on the couch, pushing back her long, blond mane. “I’m tired of men looking at me and only wanting one thing.”

Emily didn’t speak. She’d learned it was best sometimes to just sit back and let the patient talk.

“I’m tired of random men, tired of guys who can’t remember my name a week after we’ve met.”

Her brows wrinkled at that. What kind of moron would forget a woman as gorgeous as Cara?

“I want someone who knows that I like sunsets, that I swim every morning before dawn, that I like damn blueberries on my pancakes—” Cara’s face was starting to redden. “Dammit, I want someone to know me!”

And not just the sex goddess.

“What’s wrong with me, Dr. Drake?” Cara’s hands balled into fists. “I’m not like the others, am I? They’re all happy. My friends love the power they have over mortal men. They laugh about it, but I—I—” She broke off, floundering. Then she swiped her hand under her left eye, rubbing away a lone tear that had fallen. “Shit, I guess I’m just a freak.”

Reaching for her tissue box, Emily said very softly, “No, you’re not.” She offered the tissue to Cara. “You just…” Now here was the hard part. Cara might not be ready to hear it, but she needed to realize, “You just want someone to love you.”

The tissue fell from Cara’s fingers. “But men don’t love women like me.”

Cara had been coming to see her for nearly a month now. In that time, Emily had discovered that beneath the succubus’s perfect exterior, there was a smart, kind, caring woman. A woman who’d been born into a life that didn’t necessarily match up with the person she was. And it was time Cara changed that life.

Men don’t love women like me. Gazing straight into Cara’s glistening blue eyes, Emily softly asked, “Don’t they?”

Emily had just shown Cara Maloan out when her intercom beeped.

“Hey, boss, you got a call on line one.” Vanessa whistled softly. “A guy by the name of Colin Gyth. Very sexy voice.”

Colin Gyth. Emily hurried around her desk. “Ah, okay.” It’d been nearly three days since she’d heard from Colin. Not that she’d been counting or anything. “Put him through.”

Inhaling deeply, she waited a moment for the telltale click that signaled the call transfer. Then she picked up the handset. “Emily Drake.”

“Hi, Doc.”

Heat bloomed between her thighs. Vanessa was right, the guy did have a sexy-as-sin voice. She’d forgotten the deep timbre of his speech.

Damn. What was wrong with her? Was she honestly getting turned on just by Colin’s voice?

Cara’s problem is that she has too much sex in her life. Maybe my problem is that I don’t have enough.

Maybe she’d just been alone too long. What had it been? Five, six months since she’d broken up with Travis? Or rather, since Travis had broken up with her.

I don’t know you, Emily. You won’t let me know you. And I’m tired of ramming my head into a wall just because I want to get close to you.

She jerked off her glasses. That had been bad, very, very—