Moon Sworn (Riley Jenson Guardian 9)

"The croissants are gone, so I'm officially free to insult." Liander moved aside to let Quinn through, and I took a swipe at him as we passed - which he avoided with a laugh.

As the kitchen floor became the living room carpet, I said, "I thought you had a very important meeting with the real estate people?"

"Letting real estate people know you're eager for a property is never a good idea," Quinn said easily.

"They'll wait."

"Well, good." Although I wished he'd tip me the right way up. Having my nose stuck in his back was far from unpleasant, but being upside down and bounced around like a sack of potatoes as he strode toward the bathroom wasn't much fun.

"If you wanted to be right way up," he said, obviously following my thoughts, "you wouldn't have made snarky remarks about my age."

"And I would have thought that one of the four oldest vampires in the country would have learned to take insults by now."

"He has, except when it's more fun to do otherwise. Prepare to be ravished by your ancient but extremely fit lover, my dear."

"Oh, I'm prepared." More than prepared, really.

But of course, my cell phone chose that moment to ring. I was tempted to ignore it, but the ring tone said it was Jack, and he never phoned just to chat.

Quinn put me down without being asked. With a frustrated sigh, I pulled the phone out of my pocket and answered it. "Hi, Jack."

Quinn kissed the top of my head, then continued on into the bathroom. I leaned against the door frame and watched - frustration growing - as he turned on the shower taps then stripped off his sweaty running clothes, revealing the long, lean lines of his body.

Lovely was the first word that came to mind. He reminded me of an athlete - not a bodybuilder or a runner, but sitting comfortably in between the two. His was a body to run your fingers over time and again. As I had - each time delighting in the silky smoothness of his skin and the play of muscle beneath it. And I really wanted to be doing it again this morning.

Damn Jack and his timing.

"Riley, are you even listening to me?" Jack said, sounding a little exasperated.

I briefly thought about lying, but I knew from past experience he'd ask me to recite back his words - and then get even madder when I couldn't. "Sorry, momentarily distracted."

"I won't ask by what, because I probably wouldn't want to know." His voice was dry. "We found the Toyota the victim's soul mentioned. It was abandoned in Keilor. Apparently the owner didn't even know it was missing. A sharp-eyed citizen reported two men leaving the vehicle."

"Two? Our soul only mentioned one."

"He might have only seen one, but that doesn't mean there wasn't someone else there."

True, but I'd also only smelled the one. Or had the smell of vengeance been so thick and ripe that it had overwhelmed all other scents?

"Has Cole had a chance to check it out yet?"

"Dusty's there now. He's found a partial print that didn't match the one the police have listed in their database for the owner."

Meaning the owner had a record. "And do you have a matching listing for the print?"

"Yep. It belongs to one Hank Surrey, a vamp who turned fifty-five years ago."

I watched as Quinn stepped into the shower and closed the glass door. The fierce desire to just hang up, strip, and step in beside him swept through me. I swallowed and tried to quell the trembling in my limbs, but it took all the control I had not to follow that urge.

"Have we got a recent address listed for him?" Even as I asked the question, I had my fingers crossed that we didn't.

But fate, as usual, wasn't giving me even the tiniest of breaks.

"We have him in Mt. Martha, although the last check on his location was done almost a year ago."

Mt. Martha was a well-to-do suburb down on the peninsula that catered primarily to families. It wasn't the sort of place where you usually found vamps - young or old. They tended to stick closer to the city, where feeding was a whole lot easier - especially with the advent of the blood whore clubs.

I said as much to Jack.