Page 83 of Nightshades

“Get your ass here, Sanchez.”

He hangs up the phone and I wince, digging out some cash from my pocket to pay for breakfast.

“Sorry everyone. I have to run. Homicide.”

“Another? Interesting, they tend to skyrocket when new monsters come around.” Caden eyes stop on each beast at the table.

I lift a shoulder, wanting to keep my mate to myself since it’s so new. After breakfast, my body begins to feel better. My head doesn’t hurt anymore, my bones don’t seem to ache, and I’m ready to figure out how the hell I’m going to balance being a detective mated to a monster who needs to feed off fear and kills people.

Hay, Dios mío.

I’m in such a normal healthy relationship.

The wind and rain are pissing me off.

Now that I know these storms are because of that little fucking fox inside, I’m going to kill him. There’s no reason to have it rain this much all of the time.

When Lula takes her phone call from Jake, my sour mood disappears. There’s been a homicide at a local jewelry store, and I’m excited until I remember I haven’t killed anyone in a few days because Lula has been able to satisfy all of my violent cravings.

At the same time, I don’t like it when someone is one-upping me in murdering others. I’m the monster. I do the murdering.

Holding my palm out, the roots grow together, making a small stalk. A nightshade flower blossoms on top, the purple shades giving a hint of beauty in the gloomy day. I set it on her windshield, wanting Lula to know I was here.

I’m always here.

Wherever she is, I’m never far. I can either always see or hear her. When the distance between us grows too much, my monsters become unsettled.

Taking one last look at the small gift I left on her windshield, I’m across town at Harold’s Jewelers in the next minute, the rain finally easing.

Sheriff Holland and Officer Waylon are here, talking to witnesses a few doors down. I survey the parking lot, doing my best to hold in my growls. The audacity of someone else ruining my killing spree only has the nightmare inside me roaring with fury.

I duck behind the Sheriff’s car, doing my best to hide my massive body and listen to the Sheriff’s conversation.

“You didn’t see anything out of the ordinary? Or hear anything, Ms. Trudel?” He questions the middle-aged woman who seems to own the boutique just a few stores down.

“No,” she answers, clearly upset by the emotion in her voice. “I only heard the gunshots. I’m sorry. I didn’t come outside when I heard them. I locked my door and hid in the backroom with my loaded shotgun—which I have a permit for,” she adds with a bit of attitude.

“Thank you, Ms. Trudel. I appreciate your time today.”

“Sorry I couldn’t be more help, Sheriff,” she says.

She walks back into her boutique while the Sheriff and Officer Waylon stay outside. Sheriff Holland clicks his pen over and over again, staring at his notepad.

“Someone had to have seen something. We have a few more businesses to hit,” Waylon tries to sound positive.

“That’s not what’s eating at me,” Sheriff Holland sighs. “This murder isn’t like the others. The others were brutal, gruesome, and almost filled with hate. You could tell by looking at the bodies or what was left of them.”

Pride swells in my chest.That’s the nicest thing anyone has ever said about me.

“This is a clear robbery and homicide. Three gunshot wounds to the chest. Harold didn’t stand a chance. This is another killer, Waylon. If I can’t stop these murders or start catching the fucking killer, this entire town will be after my badge, and they might elect someone else.”

“The killings always stop,” Waylon states, pointing out a small bit of hope. “They happen, yes, but then they stop. That’s good for us.”

“No, Waylon. No, it isn’t. Because not once have I arrested anyone over the years for any of these killings,” his voice a harsh, inpatient whisper. “This is bad for me, and something needs to change.” Sheriff turns around and walks away, heading to another place of business.

Waylon blows out a heavy breath, following his boss, but not before he turns to peer at the car I’m hiding behind, as if he can see me.

I stay crouched, wishing the one ability I had was to be invisible.