If Drake had left his vehicle, his sexual need was coming to a head. Literally. Most incubi had to have sex once every few weeks to fuel their life force. If Drake was still targeting innocents, I was looking forward to catching him and making him pay for his crimes.
Almost immediately a clear image of me pummeling Drake jumped into my head and a sudden jolt of satisfaction surged through me. I grabbed on to the edge of my desk to steady myself, leaving little half-moon nailprints in the cheap laminant wood. I had him by the neck. He was struggling, but it was no contest. A tide of endorphins rode through my blood-stream, dizzying me.
My wolf growled happily inside my head, snapping her muzzle in agreement.
Hold on there, sister. One step at a time.
I needed food.
I spent the remainder of the day making calls and eating. I shoveled in as much food as Marcy could lay in front of me. My hunger was insatiable.
It was sad, really, because at this rate I’d have to eat in private from now on. There was no way I could go into a restaurant and order three cheeseburgers at a time and then gobble them down in front of anyone with any sense. And there wasn’t enough time to go to three different restaurants for a normal-sized meal every time I was hungry. It kind of sucked, because I hated cooking, but I was going to have to learn in a hurry; either that or be resigned to the bleak fate of eating prepackaged food or takeout for the rest of eternity.
Marcy was positively gleeful as she dropped another greasy takeout bag on my desk.
I ripped into it without hesitation.
“Good Lord, woman,” Marcy said. “At this rate you’re going to be twice your size by the end of the week.”
“Be quiet or I’ll make you eat with me,” I managed between bites. “Not all of us were lucky enough to be born with the body of a supermodel.” Marcy was tall, svelte, and had incredible curves, which is exactly why normal women referred to women like her as “bitches.” It was completely unfair. She could ingest anything she wanted and still look phenomenal. I was hoping my newer, faster metabolism would shape me into a Marcy over time. Doubtful, but I could hope.
She took one look at my face and made a hasty retreat, but not before throwing over her shoulder, “If I ate like that, my stomach would explode. Then you’d be sorry.”
“Quiet, hot stuff,” I said, my mouth already around another burger.
After my third dip into food, I finally had time to call Nathan Dunn, my landlord, back. It was a quick conversation, and I heartily accepted his offer to help clean up the mess in my apartment. I briefly explained about the piles of furniture and he assured me he would have a team out there shortly to take care of it.
I was mildly surprised I hadn’t “heard” from Tyler yet. Communicating telepathically was handy. I gave a small tweak out-ward in my mind.
Tyler, are you there?
Nothing.
I wondered if there was a distance range. Weird.
Next I wrote my statement for the police and faxed it over to the station. I hadn’t had a chance to talk to James in person, but my dad was going to fill him in. Ray hadn’t shown up today waving an arrest warrant, so that meant the tranq findings hadn’t come back yet. Or they’d been inconclusive. Even better.
The last thing on my agenda was to retry my potential new client. I’d tried calling him earlier in the day, but hadn’t gotten through and there’d been no voicemail option, which was a little strange. Everybody had voicemail. I picked up Marcy’s note, which had his name highlighted as “the cute-voiced Colin Rourke” and a phone number.
“We’ll just see about that,” I mumbled as I dialed.
“Hello, this is Rourke,” a very strong male voice answered on the first ring.
I had to admit, it held a very nice bravado. There was also an intriguing trace accent I couldn’t readily place. “Hello, Mr. Rourke. This is Molly Hannon, of Hannon & Michaels. You contacted us yesterday about a possible problem? What can I do for you?”
“Ah, Ms. Hannon.” I could detect a hint of a smile behind those words. “Thanks for getting back to me. It seems I’m having some issues with my business partner, and I’d like to retain your services.”
“What kind of problems specifically?” I asked. We took most cases, but sometimes things weren’t nearly as dire as people originally thought.
“I believe he’s embezzling money from our company.”
Well, that sounded dire enough. “Okay, we’d be happy to help. Let’s see what we can do.”
“Ms. Hannon,” he said. “I want to make this extremely clear from the get-go. I’m retaining your services, and your services alone. This is a highly sensitive matter and I’m not interested in making it a three-ring circus. Privacy is of the utmost importance.”