Embraced By Darkness (Riley Jenson Guardian 5)

I checked both his and his parents' address, then glanced up at Jack, waiting until he and Rhoan had finished discussing the baby vamp case before saying, "I need a car."

"See Salliane."

"Unlike some in this room, that's something I try to do as little as possible."

He gave me his vampire face. The one that said he was annoyed but trying not to show it. "Will you two just quit the crap and get along?"

"Not possible, boss. She's a cow, and I'm a bitch. Two species that will never see eye to eye."

"Just get down there and get that car before I find something nasty for you to do."

I was tempted to ask what could be worse than the murder scene he'd sent me to yesterday but, knowing Jack, he probably could find something worse. So I shut my mouth, collected my purse, and got out of there.

The cow turned around as I entered the liaisons office, and rolled her brown eyes. She always reminded me of a caramel-haired Amazon - she had the height and the strength and the added bonus of big breasts. I pretty much figured she was wet dream material for most men, which made Jack's reluctance on the involvement front all the more puzzling. I mean, he was a man with needs, and Sal sure as hell was willing to fulfill each and every one of them. Or was it simply the fact that she was also a vamp? Quinn had told me two vamps couldn't actually live together because of the whole territorial thing. And yet we had vamps living downstairs side by side without any real problems, so maybe Quinn had been flinging yet another lie. It wouldn't have been the first time.

"Well, well," she said, voice all sultry. "The mutt in person. Isn't this a pleasure."

I gave her my most pleasant smile. Her eyes narrowed and she stiffened in the seat, as if readying for an attack. Amusement bubbled through me. There might be parts of this job I hated, but God, little moments like this just made it all seem worthwhile.

"Jack sent me in here to show you how the liaison job is really done. He's sick of your crappy mistakes."

Her gaze darkened. "Jack would never say that!"

"If you think so, then you don't know him as well as you think you do." I swiped a set of keys off the hook and glanced at the number. "I'm taking car 32."

"That's not your assigned car."

"It is now," I said airily, and walked out.

"Bitch!" she yelled after me.

I chuckled softly. No doubt she'd run to Jack and have a whine, which meant I'd get in trouble when I got back, but hey, if it pissed her off, then the pain of listening to Jack rant was worth it.

Though why I felt the need to be such a bitch around that woman, I couldn't honestly say. She just rubbed me the wrong way - and that was never a good thing to do to a werewolf. Especially one armed with a mouth that tended to run out of control at the worst possible moments.

I found the car and headed out of the underground parking lot. Liam Barry lived in a Middle Park apartment that sat on busy Beaconsfield Parade, right opposite the beach. It was, I discovered when I got there, tiny - boasting one bedroom and a minute kitchen and living area - but the views were incredible.

I walked over to the mess of men's magazines and discarded clothes, and stared out at the sea and sand for several moments, wishing I could throw open the windows and let the cool salty breeze in. Let it wash away the stale and unused feel of the apartment.

Forcing myself to turn away, I let my gaze sweep the tiny, dusty interior, looking for something that jumped out. Nothing did. The magazines and mess were pretty much what I expected from a high-flying bachelor - which, until he actually married Callie, was what he'd been. An attached bachelor, granted, but a bachelor all the same.

I toed through the magazines, then moved into the kitchen. His fridge had a sour smell, and the milk looked to be forming into butter. I shut the door quickly, wrinkling my nose at the odor. On the side of the fridge were several bills - electricity and gas. The only thing unusual about them was the fact they were overdue. For some of us, overdue bills were a fact of life - especially when we had a brother who loved shopping sprees - but Li am made a ton of money. Still, maybe he was just one of those people who tended to forget them.

I blew out a breath, then turned and walked into the bedroom. It was barely big enough to hold the king-sized bed. And the rumpled, stale-smelling sheets suggested they hadn't been used or changed in quite a while. Obviously, Liam didn't spend a whole lot of time here anymore. After searching through his closets and drawers, I gave it up as a bad joke and headed outside to suck in some air.

Once back in the car, I typed Callie's address into the nav computer then headed there. She lived several blocks up the road in Port Melbourne, in an old industrial area that was rapidly gaining popularity with young trendies who liked being close to both the city and the beach, but weren't willing to foot the million dollar price tags some of the other beachside suburbs were now commanding. Her apartment was one of those converted warehouses, with views over the bay and port.

Again, the apartment wasn't big, but it had two bedrooms and a larger living space than Liam's. He'd obviously been living here for a while, because his clothes were scattered haphazardly about. I searched through the rooms from top to bottom, but couldn't find anything odd. There were lots of pictures of them together, and some of those had other people in them. They looked like a couple very much in love, which made what had happened all the more puzzling.

I pocketed a photo of the two of them and left. I'd barely reached the pavement when my cell phone rang, the sound seeming shrill and uneasy against the cool calm of the sea air.

Trepidation ran through me and with some reluctance, I pulled the phone out of my pocket and answered.

"We've got another one," Jack said bluntly. pped and shifted back into human form. After tying together the ends of my torn shirt - for some reason, shirts and the more delicate fabrics like lace didn't seem to handle the shifting as well as jeans - I took out my phone, hit record, and made a brief report. Then I set it down and squatted beside the body.

Liam had died with a look of shock and agony on his face. His eyes were wide, his mouth open, and if it were possible for the smell of terror to linger on a body, then it did here.

Blood covered him from head to foot. It saturated his well-pressed pants and drenched his fine-looking cashmere sweater. It also painted the skin across the back of his hands, and colored his fingernails. And there were strands of pale hair caught between his fingers, though nowhere near enough to cover the head of his dead girlfriend.