Total pages in book: 118
Estimated words: 112001 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 560(@200wpm)___ 448(@250wpm)___ 373(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 112001 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 560(@200wpm)___ 448(@250wpm)___ 373(@300wpm)
“So some family is out there waiting for him to come home.”
As V moved up to the first of the entries, there was a series of shifting hand positions as John Matthew communicated with his mate.
“The two last week,” V said, “were found downtown. Both males. No eyes, ligature marks.” He frowned. “Oh, shit…”
Xhex jerked forward. “What.”
“So this first guy has a reference link to my criminal database.” He clicked on the link. “Let’s see—okay. Yeah…”
“Yeah, what?”
Just as she was getting to her feet, V whistled under his breath. “Looks like you did us a favor.”
* * *
Going to stand behind Vishous, Xhex looked over his heavy shoulder, intending to read whatever was on the screen. That was a no-go. Her eyes bounced all around the different screens, refusing to light on the one in the center that had columns of information on it.
“This was no male of worth.” V scrolled down. “Breaking and entering on his grandmahmen. He just robbed her, but the next month, he pulled the same stunt and battered his cousins during the home invasion—and here’s some domestic violence against his live-in GF. Twice—no, three times on the DV. Oh… fuck.”
“What?” She blinked and tried to focus on the words.
As John Matthew likewise whistled in an ascension, V shook his head. “The female didn’t survive the most recent attack. The guy was on the run—although what the hell was he doing in that club if he wanted to stay gone.”
“What was his name?” she demanded.
“Ero.”
“And where was he found?”
“Again, it was Market Street in an alley. Rehv was the one who called him in to us. Apparently some civilians came to him about it.”
She thought back to the spring and the confrontation she’d had with Rehv at the club. He’d been right about her grid. She’d been arrogant. And people had died.
Then again, why wouldn’t a lack of self-awareness come with your entire consciousness collapsing?
“Do you have a picture of…” Her voice drifted off.
Vishous rode his mouse and clicked on something. “Here.”
The image that came up was in full color, the flash cutting through the darkness of the night scene. The body was on its back and dressed in clothes that were off-kilter following a skirmish, the arms out to the sides, the boots lax at the ends of the legs. She couldn’t see the neck clearly given the collar of the jacket, but the damage to the eyes was nothing you could miss: Empty sockets with not a lot of blood, the removal a clean job.
Like the killer had done it a time or two.
Given the angle of the image, she was guessing it had been taken by a cell phone, and she wondered whether it was Rehv’s or from one of the Brothers who’d shown up to deal with the mess she’d created.
V glanced up at her. “You want to go on to the next?”
She nodded in a numb way, and after a series of screen changes, they were back at the first table. This time, she could speed-read, and a riding anxiety made her remember every single word. When she got to the end, she let out a deep breath.
“I want to see the picture.”
“Roger that.”
The second victim was much the same. Club clothes, this time lying on his stomach, but the head was turned to the side so that the sockets were staring off at the back exit of some brick building.
“So you’ve decided to play Equalizer, huh?” V remarked.
It was the same story. A male with a history of extreme violence, multiple complaints from people inside his bloodline and outside of it, who was clearly a danger to vampires and humans alike.
“Don’t pat me on the back.” She returned and sat with John Matthew. “Not at all.”
Goddamn it, she didn’t remember ever seeing the males before. “What about a picture from last night?”
“I don’t have one yet.”
John Matthew put his palm on her back and rubbed her shoulders. She didn’t want to look at him, except when she finally did, his face was grave, but not hiding disgust or anything. He was as he always had been, blue-eyed, dark-haired, strong-jawed—steady. At her six. No matter what.
“So I’ve got a question for you,” the Brother said over at the desk. “What the fuck’s going on?”
All she could do was shake her head. Back in the spring, she’d been so sure that when her nightmares had stopped—all that waking up on the attack, John having to hold her back, hold her down—she’d turned a corner in a good way, taken a positive step toward the kind of mental health that had always been out of reach for her, no matter how good things were going. Hell, even her aggression had improved at the club. She’d been proud of how much better she’d been tolerating the stupid—