Page 9

Chapter 9

G ordon glanced over to Adler, who was driving fast. The tension in Gordon’s tall, dark, and very handsome werewolf was obvious.

“What a morning,” Gordon said, trying for a light tone.

Adler glanced over to him. “Thank you.”

Gordon crossed his arms in front of him as New Amsterdam rushed past outside. “For what?”

Despite the tense shoulders, Adler managed to shrug. “Being there. Helping with Mrs. Cooper. Helping with Mil. Being your amazing self.”

Gordon chuckled. “Come on, admit it. You thought I’d hide in the lab at the first sign of trouble, didn’t you?”

Adler huffed and turned up his nose. “My mate doesn’t hide. My mate is brave. The bravest. And so pretty. Sexy too, and irresistible with his clothes off.”

Gordon slid down in his seat. “Your werewolf mind just went to the gutter, detective. Shouldn’t you be focusing on the case?”

“I would if I knew what it was about.”

“Maxim didn’t tell you anything?”

“Nah. Just that he wants the both of us.”

They drove on in silence for a few more blocks, and Gordon reached over the middle console so he could take Adler’s hand in his. The werewolf was always warmer, and to Gordon, that difference had quickly become a comfort. That simple touch seemed to soothe Adler as well if his low exhale was any indication.

Adler eventually slowed the car and pulled over in a residential area Gordon didn’t know. There were two NAPD officers that Gordon could see, standing in front of a whitewashed house with a stone birdbath out front. If not for those two, this street would look completely normal.

However, there were also the trademark black and dark gray SUVs of the Forum, indicating that the two officers were here in a liaison capacity and that the crime was directly supernatural-related on the side of the victim as well as the perpetrator. That would also explain why Maxim had called Adler, not the other way around, the hunter clearly having been called to the scene first.

“This should be interesting,” Adler said, his thoughts clearly running along the same lines as Gordon’s.

When the two of them got out and headed for the entrance to the house, the police officers briefly checked their credentials and gave them a curt greeting before waving them through.

In the townhouse’s hallway, Gordon got the first whiff of something: blood. It mixed with the sour notes of vinegar, something he was familiar with, and not just from his own recent morgue cleaning . Here it’s not used for cleaning though. To deter wolf noses in this case. So someone planned to do this and brought strong vinegar to the crime to mask their scent .

Adler was close to Gordon, almost touching, as Gordon walked toward an announcement board mounted across from the mailboxes.

“There you are, my new favorite couple,” Maxim said from behind them, prompting Gordon to lightly squeal and Adler to growl as he spun, putting himself between Gordon and any possible threat.

“Fuck, Maxim,” Adler said, straightening out of the crouch he’d almost moved into.

The hunter was in his black and very sexy hunter outfit, his golden hair braided and running over one shoulder.

He tutted. “Adler, did I not advise you about the wisdom of growling at people at your place of employment? Not that I take it seriously of course; Not that I mean to diminish your growl, at all. It’s such a wolfish growl, sure to impress a mate. Isn’t it, Gordon?”

Gordon stepped up next to Adler. “Adler doesn’t need to growl to impress me, Maxim. What happened here?”

“Ah, your words might break a werewolf’s heart.” Maxim beckoned. “Follow me, and I will show you. It’s up the stairs.”

Maxim went ahead of them, his footfalls silent. No wonder he can sneak up on a werewolf, Gordon thought.

On the second floor, toward the back of the house, an apartment door stood open, clearly the source of the smell. They followed Maxim inside. Gordon noticed a doormat with “Welcome” written in colorful, blocky letters on it. He wiped his feet on the mat, a reflex.

The apartment inside was one of tall ceilings, white walls, and hardwood floors, the only decoration a pothos plant that had been grown to reach from one doorframe to the other, the green like a lifeline on the white.

They walked past a kitchen, white as well, accented with stainless steel, and to a living room. There, the Forum’s forensic techs in their coveralls could be seen collecting samples through a set of open French doors.

Maxim turned and smiled at them, then petted Gordon’s cheek. “You changed your hair color again. A fascinating hue of purest cerulean blue, tipped with white, like wind frothing a water sprite. And Willa tells me you are the kind of person to cut the crust off bread.” He leaned in conspiratorially. “I would have done the same, except when Heath was little, porridge was de rigueur. He wouldn’t have it without honey on top of course. He could be such a picky eater. Ah, he was adorable when he was that tiny. He is adorable still, but if I say as much, he gets ever so contrary, the poor thing. You see, despite what Willa says, I side with you on the issue of the bread crusts, Gordon.”

“Uh, thanks,” Gordon said. “I think?”

Adler cleared his throat. “The case?”

Maxim made a moue. “But Adler, you should be more social. Whatever will your mate think?”

Gordon shrugged. “I’m just wondering if there’s a corpse for me?”

Maxim looked from Gordon to Adler. “Neither of you is any fun this day.”

Adler scratched his head. “Well, we’re all smelling the blood, Maxim, so if we could get to the point?”

Maxim shook his head in disapproval. “Fine, follow me into this world of gore then.” He turned, leading the way toward the French doors and through them.

The Forum’s forensics team was an army of fae, vampires, and wolves clad in white and thus unified. They had put tape on the ground to mark out the areas they’d finished with, and Maxim walked Adler and Gordon to the edge of where they still worked. From there, the three of them had a good view of the room.

Everyone here was familiar with the way blood smelled when it was spilled in large amounts, and that was the case. It had soaked through the carpet, had followed the lines of the wooden floorboards and ran like tears down the wall where it had been used to write, crudely: the deserved suffering before death .

The blood had drawn dark lines along a cooling finger from whence it had dropped to form a puddle, and it stained void faces and chests torn open with wicked force. The two victims had been brutally mutilated and placed in an armchair each, angled so as to face the French doors, face whoever walked onto the gruesome scene.

“These are Mary Ann and Jackson Williamson,” Maxim said. “Mary Ann was a werewolf, though with no direct pack affiliation, and Jackson was fae.”

“This is extraordinarily violent,” Adler said, and Gordon was sure that the way he moved to block his view wasn’t intentional, was instinct.

Maxim nodded. “It very much is.”

Gordon put a hand on Adler’s shoulder. “Remember why I’m here, detective. I don’t need protecting.” He turned to one of the forensic techs. “Hey, did you bring an extra whitesuit?”

The tech nodded, pointing toward another room. Gordon turned to head that way, but Adler stopped him, wrapped an arm around his middle, and drew him in for a quick kiss.

“Sorry, sweetheart. I sometimes forget how brave you are. I mean, I know, but then I forget.”

Gordon rolled his eyes. “You are forgiven, detective.”

“Thank you,” Adler said just before letting Gordon go, his voice low and husky.

Gordon went to put on that whitesuit. He was pretty sure that Adler was watching him go. Focus on the murders and not on the hot werewolf. The dead need you more than the living right now.