Chapter One

I don’t usually have people pointing guns in my face. Or in
my direction at all, really. I’m a private detective, so I
know some people have certainly thought about shooting me
after I reported their illicit activities to my clients or
the cops, but looking down the barrel of a .45 was a new
experience for me.

“Jack, can we talk about this without the gun?”

Jack was precisely as I remembered him. Tall, slender, with
close-cropped blond hair and the coldest blue eyes I’d ever
seen. His long-sleeved flannel shirt was rolled up to just
above his elbows and left unbuttoned for easy access to his
shoulder holster. He’s clean-cut, looks like the poster boy
for some white bread good ol’ boy magazine, and crazy as a
loon. He belongs to a group of extremists and vigilante
vampire hunters who call themselves theWhite Hats.

His thin lips quirked in a polite smile. No real emotion
shone through the empty mask. I was praying he was just
using some of his psycho scare tactics again. I deeply
regretted leaving my own guns in my bedroom all the way
across town. Fat lot of good they did me there. Maybe I
should have our receptionist frisk the clients before
letting them into my office from now on.

“Shiarra, I’m disappointed. I’ve left you a number of
invitations to come work with us. Why didn’t you get back to
me? Did you succumb to Royce after the little fiasco this
spring?”

That again. A few months ago I took a job I should’ve known
to leave well enough alone. When your business is failing
and someone offers you a lot of money, sometimes you do
stupid things. For example, you accept a job trying to find
some powerful magic artifact that a vampire was hiding from
a bunch of magi. I suppose you could call accepting a
proposition like that suicidal. These days, I just called it
a bad business decision.

“No, I haven’t gone to see Royce since the fight at his
restaurant.” One little white lie couldn’t hurt. He’d come
to see me, not the other way around. I’d stringently avoided
Royce since the day I got home from the hospital, when he
visited to apologize and thank me in his own way for pulling
his ass out of the fire. “Listen, I don’t deal in that shit
anymore. Once was enough.”

“You’ve taken on clients, done other jobs for super naturals
since your recovery. You have strong ties to two of the most
powerful Were packs in the Five Boroughs. You’re linked to
the most influential vampire in the state. We need your
expertise, and your connections.”

The only reason the Moonwalker tribe had anything to do with
me was because, like Royce, I had saved their butts from a
crazy power-hungry sorcerer. They owed me. The only reason
the Sunstriker tribe had anything to do with me was because
the leader of the pack was my boyfriend. Aside from that,
the occasional (non dangerous) case notwithstanding, I tried
to keep my connections to anything furry or with fangs to a
minimum.

I took a deep breath to steady myself while I thought about
how to get Jack to get the hell out of my office, and take
his gun with him. He’d tried this tactic before; I wondered
why he’d never figured out that waving a weapon in someone’s
face was not a good way to get them to cooperate with you
for any length of time. “You know I don’t like vampires. I
don’t have much to do with Weres anymore either. I don’t
take jobs that have anything to do with the supernatural, no
matter what the papers say about me.”

“You have the equipment and connections to be a hunter.” He
frowned. “We need you. I won’t have you going to them,
taking their side.”

“Whoa now, who said anything about that?”

His eyes narrowed, something passing through them I couldn’t
read. “There’s a new player in the game. It’ll be down to
him or Royce. Or us.”

I stared blankly. “Who?”

“Word on the street is that Max Carlyle is coming to town.”
He stared back, expectantly.

Silence. After a moment decidedly lacking any explanations,
I urged him along. “And he is?”

“You really don’t know?”

“Would I ask if I did?”

He grinned; the flash of white teeth against his pale skin
was ominous. Predatory. Too much like the things he
hunted—vampires.

“My, my. I hate to spoil the surprise.” One hand reached up
to rub his smooth-shaven jaw while he stared at me. After
another long, drawn-out moment of silence, he raised the
gun, thumbed on the safety, and tucked it away in its
holster under his flannel shirt. “Ms. Waynest, again I must
apologize for my methods. Unfortunately, your reputation
leads me to worry about what needs to be done to ensure
you’re playing on the right side of the field.”

Holding a knife to my throat in the dead of night after
breaking into my bedroom didn’t exactly give me warm
fuzzies, and neither did holding a gun on me in broad
daylight. I was hoping my expression was more neutral than
pissed, but I wasn’t holding my breath.

“Look, for the last time—I don’t want anything to do with
Others. I don’t talk to Royce, I don’t give a shit what the
White Hats are doing, and I’m not about to do the tango with
things that could eat me for breakfast. I’m a private
detective, and that’s all. Someone go missing? Think your
girlfriend is cheating on you? Great, I’ll go look for them.
But I will not,” I stressed, leaning forward across the desk
and pointing one admonishing finger in his direction, “be
bullied into dealing with vampires and Weres again. Coming
close to dying once was enough. You can’t pay me enough to
put my life on the line. Not again.”

“Oh, don’t worry, Ms. Waynest. They’ll be coming to you soon
enough. And once they do, you’ll come running to us for help.”

I stood, a thread of fear trailing down my spine, even as I
finally boiled over. I pointed at the door. “Get the hell
out of my office! Stay away from me!”

He swung the door open and sauntered out of the room, his
cool, arrogant laughter trailing behind him. My glare stayed
trained on him until his shadowed frame was no longer
visible behind the frosted glass of the front door. Jen
twisted around in her chair to peer into my office, staring
at me with wide brown eyes over the rims of her glasses.
“Jeez, Shia, what was that all about?”

I shook my head. “Nothing. But if he comes back, or tries to
make another appointment, I’m out of the office. No—out of
the country.”

She shrugged, muttered something, and turned back to her
desk to work on the stack of papers in front of her. I
glared at the frosted glass door with its gold
leaf–inscribed H&W INVESTIGATIONS, even though Jack was
long gone. As much as he pissed me off, he scared me more.
Or maybe him saying the Others would come looking for me
scared me more. Hell, I think I was entitled to be a little
unsettled considering I’d had a gun waved in my face.
Irritated and upset, I twisted around, calling over my
shoulder as I shut the door, “Hold my calls. If anyone asks,
I’ve gone home for the day.”

Some preventative measures needed to be taken about This Max
Carlyle, I thought. I sat in the squeaky office chair,
rolling it back so I could riffle through the back of the
top drawer. After rummaging through a scattering of old
Post-it notes, paper clips, pens, and papers, I finally
found the leather-bound notebook I kept business cards filed
in.

I flipped through the pages until I found the neat,
professional card for A.D. Royce Industries. It had all the
data I needed to contact Alec Royce, the vampire I’d been
doing my best to avoid for the past several months. The one
I’d ended up legally, contractually, bound to, and who’d
been sending me invitations to nights on the town and,
presumably, other things. All of which I’d carefully ignored
up until now.

Daylight still shone through the window behind my desk, but
I figured I could leave a message if he didn’t pick up. I
grabbed my cell, dug the card out of the little plastic
holder, and dialed the handwritten number scrawled on the back.

Tucking the phone between my head and shoulder, I fixed my
eyes on the framed photograph of Chaz and me on the corner
of my desk. We were leaning back against the rail together
at the end of the pier in Greenport and his arms were
wrapped around me. I tried not to think about what Chaz
would say about me calling the vamp, listened to the
ringing, and finally, a click. “You’ve reached the desk of
Alec Royce. I’m not in right now, but if you leave a message
with your name and number, I’ll get back to you.”

That mild, friendly voice gave me the shivers, worse than
anything that Jack had said or done. Did I really want to
get back in touch with the vampire? After swallowing hard
and hesitating a bit longer than I should have, I remembered
I was supposed to be leaving a message and squeaked out a
few words.