Death by Blood: South Beach Crew, #1

Chapter One

He’s going to be furious. Detective Shawna Davies bolted down the stairs to her kitchen, already late. The lingering pot of coffee from yesterday beckoned her. She hastily grabbed a mug and splashed the dark life-giving fluid into her cup, set it in the microwave, and pushed the buttons hard. The damn thing didn’t register light touches. She put it on for two minutes. An agonizing 120 seconds until her coffee would be ready. She stared as the red mug spun inside. He’d be here any moment, and she hadn’t even gotten a sip of caffeine. She blinked and stopped, staring at the hypnotic spin as the handle went round and round. Time was slipping away. Anxiety twisted her insides as she shook herself back to reality. Shawna grabbed her bagel and slammed it into the toaster, pushing down the lever, then grabbed the cream cheese from the fridge. Then she went back to staring at her coffee mug. Come on. Shawna impatiently tapped her foot while glaring at the green timer as it ticked down.

The knock on her apartment door startled her, and she jumped. Eric, crap on a biscuit. Her pulse quickened as she ran a hand over her hair and tried to compose herself. She adjusted her shirt and swung open the door.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

Shoot! My coffee. Flustered, she moved to get her cup and tripped over her cat. He let out a high-pitched meow and bolted off to the hallway. She caught the counter. Damn it, Twitch! Her darn cat was determined to kill her. He’d stopped in the hallway, sat, and started cleaning himself cool as could be. Eric’s mouth quirked up on one side, and she glared up at him from her short height, defensive. That didn’t happen.

Naturally, Detective Eric Black agreed with his deep velvet voice. She couldn’t help but be hyper-aware of his presence. It was maddening. Completely unfair. His smirk disarmed her every evening when he picked her up for work like he had a secret. His muscular build fueled forbidden fantasies that left her breathless. Two weeks with him.

How am I going to survive? Shawna groaned as she pushed herself upright. She threw up her hand at him to wait. Just...give me a second. Don’t get involved with my partner. Do not lust after my partner. At some point, her body had to listen to her mantra. She snatched her mug from the microwave and winced as she burned her fingers with the hot handle. Clenching her teeth, she quickly put it on the countertop as she tried not to spill a drop. She shook off the sting as she let go and grabbed her favorite to-go travel mug. The words made her grin. Roses are red, violets are blue, I watch crime shows. They’ll never find you. She poured her coffee into the cup, slapped on the lid, and tossed a metal straw in the tiny hole in the top. Come on. She walked towards the door.

Eric didn’t move from where he leaned against the staircase railing. His startling blue eyes traveled up her body. Did you forget something?

What was he talking about? Shawna blinked a few times, confused, and looked down. Crap! Forgot my bagel. She turned to get it from the toaster and stumbled as she moved too fast. Before she could fall, Eric’s firm hands caught her, and Shawna’s heart threatened to leap from her body. She felt a jolt as her back contacted the hard muscles of his chest hidden by his black button-down shirt. He had to work out. No one can maintain such toned muscles without spending a good amount of time at the gym. Her lips parted as she gasped, her head turning toward him. She froze. She could feel his breath on her face. Her brain short-circuited. What was I doing? She couldn’t remember.

Eric slid his hands down to her elbows, making a delicious trail of goosebumps on her bare arms that made her body tingle all over. How did he stay so cool in this Florida heat? She was already sweltering. His eyes dropped to her lips for a second. Yes, please. Her traitorous thoughts were going to get her into trouble. His gaze moved back up to meet hers. His lips broke into a full smile, and her knees turned to jelly. If he weren’t holding her up, she would have slid right to the floor. We’ve still got time.

Shawna closed her eyes for a second to compose herself. She stepped away from Eric and glanced over at her microwave. Twenty minutes. It takes thirty to get to the club. We have to leave. Now!

Me-row! Twitch wound his way around her ankles as she tried to walk towards the door. She eased him aside, so she didn’t step on him again. He slid on the tiled floor, stopped himself, and sat up, looking like one of those Egyptian cat statues. He gave her an incredulous stare.

Shawna hastily apologized. Sorry, Twitch.

She threw open her apartment door and looked back over her shoulder as she called to Eric, who’d lowered himself to one knee to pet her cat, as Twitch shoved his head into Eric’s hand. She was a sucker for a guy who loved cats. Just what she needed. Are you coming? We can only be late so many times. They were due at the club, and the department had put out a ton of money each night on surveillance. If they didn’t get there soon to do their job, the Chief would have a conniption fit.

Eric laughed. The sound rolled over her body doing all kinds of naughty things to her lady bits. Ritter loves us. We’re his best team. His shoulder brushed hers as he walked past out the door. Shawna felt a shiver of shimmy up her spine and suppressed a sigh. If only...

Eric’s brilliant blue Camaro looked out of place along the curb of her complex. He came from old money–in the literal sense of the word. So, why drive an unmarked cruiser when you could drive a Camaro? She’d tried to get him to let her drive, but he wasn’t having it.

The rising drug problem on the Florida coastline here in South Beach led to the formation of the new narcotics task force two weeks ago, bringing them together. The days were sunny, and the nights were steamy, hot. The recent drug-related deaths in the city took their toll on the tourist population that the town depended on. She liked the action and challenge of her job provided and preferred working nights. Not only were there more exciting cases, but it was a few degrees cooler. Getting up in the early morning was a crime against humanity.

They drove to the club, and Shawna focused her gaze out the window at the passing palm trees. She gave up. It was no use. Her eyes roamed over Eric, taking in his face and body. He really was too much for her poor, neglected hormones. When was the last time she had sex? Three years? She squeezed her thighs together. The task force assigned Eric to work the night beat with her. His good looks perfect to mix in at clubs up and down the strip. Florida nightlife was never dull. Though his looks were distracting, Shawna admitted, he fit in a lot better than her old partner, Daryl.

Daryl, her regular partner, had gotten injured on the job and had to ride the desk for a while. Stupid mistake. He’d asked the wrong questions from the wrong people and ended up in the hospital. Luckily, her cover remained intact. She closed her eyes for just a moment and took another sip of her coffee. She sighed in pleasure. Coffee was God’s gift to man. While Daryl was stuck at his desk, she got paired with Eric, whose presence made her temperature rise higher than the sweltering heat that was beating down the coastline. Her cat was furious at her for leaving him alone so much. Knowing Twitch, her couch would take the brunt of his displeasure.

The Narcotics Division was her choice. It challenged her. A new drug hit the market about three months ago. They had to stop the dealers before they flooded the streets with it. La Petite Mort left a blue tinge on the pale faces of the bodies brought into the morgue that looked as though something had literally scared them to death. Their hearts had literally stopped in fear, their lungs ceasing, and they suffocated. The blue tinge caused by an unknown chemical reaction released into their system from the drug. Forensics was baffled. They had no idea what chemical they were dealing with, and they hadn’t gotten a hold of the drug itself.

Assigned undercover, Shawna and Eric established themselves as regulars at Prima the last few weeks, the newest nightclub on the strip and a known source of La Petite Mort, the Little Death.

She glanced over at Eric and flushed with a heat that had nothing to do with the humidity outside. She pulled at the neckline of her dress. Who needed a drug with him around?

He wore a black silk button-down shirt and matching slacks that fit him perfectly. The clothes looked as though they’d been tailor made for his muscular form. Streetlights flashed by and illuminated his chiseled features. Shawna shook her head. She needed to get a grip on reality before she messed up her job.

Off limits, she thought, but his sexy smirk wasn’t helping matters any. She had a crazy urge to lean over and kiss it off his face. Work, focus on work.

Maybe we should shake it up tonight? I can work the bar while you go over to the V.I.P. area. If we split up, we might have a better chance of crossing paths with someone willing to share. Shawna watched him from the corner of her eye, pretending to focus on the sandy beach.

Eric seemed to be a completely different breed of man from her last partner. She and Daryl had gotten along famously. They had the same temperament. However, Daryl took things too far sometimes, and Shawna often found the lines they crossed faded into various shades of gray. More often than not, she cleaned up after Daryl. He had a good temperament and was a good cop, but he didn’t make the best choices in the field, and he was getting older.

Eric, on the other hand, always seemed to have a well-thought-out plan and anticipated the moves they needed to make. That’s another reason they made a good team. Shawna had always been good with tactics. The ability helped her land the job on this investigation. She’d discovered the distribution through the club from one of her narks, ensuring her spot on the task force.

Good. We enter and separate. You edge up to the bar and listen to the conversation that’s going on. See if you can pick up who is selling. I’ll be watching from across the room. I’ll signal you if I find anything. Not only that, but I trust you will do the same. Our objective right now is to acquire some of the drugs. He glanced at her through thick lashes, heat in his gaze. I don’t think you’ll have any trouble finding the right source. If the stories are true, and the person taking the drug has an immediate and continuous sexual reaction. Don’t take this the wrong way, but I can’t imagine too many guys who would pass up watching you get off. His eyes slid back to the road.

The flush on her face increased, and she reached over to crank up the air conditioner.

Right... Makes sense, I guess. Heat pooled in her core. The thick, humid night beaded pearls of moisture on her skin. Grateful for the nylons she wore. The smooth silk stopped her from sticking to the leather seat. Shawna still wasn’t used to the humidity, even after months of living in Florida, Eric saying things like that really didn’t help. Shawna came from a much milder climate in Vermont. Sometimes, she longed for temperate weather and the colorful change of maple leaves in the fall, which brought a rush of tourists to the East Coast and her small hometown. But it was mid-August, and she was in Miami.

Eric pulled up to the front of Prima. Blue LED lights lit the pathway made of white marble. Silver rails lined a spiral walkway and made the blue look like a waterfall as it mirrored off the black windows of the club facing the street. They pulled up in their shiny Camaro, one of the valets snapped to attention and ran to get the door for Eric. Before she moved to open the door, Eric was around the car, opening it for her before she even reached for the handle. He always did that. She didn’t know how, but there it was. The man was fast.

Shawna swung her long legs out of the car. The sheen on her dress caught the neon lights, making her smile, shiny. She took his hand as he helped her from the vehicle. His fingers wrapped around her pale ones, and she shivered just a little from the cold touch of his skin. Just how he stayed cool in this heat she had no idea. Probably the air conditioning in his Camaro. Another delicious shiver ran under her skin at his touch as though she touched something dangerous, sort of like petting a tiger. Shawna rose from the passenger seat, her gaze catching his as she stood.

Eric’s beautiful lips curled in a sensual smile, and she briefly wondered if he knew the effect he had on women.

Ready? His deep voice did funny things to her equilibrium.

Shawna removed her hand from his and shrugged. Always. She returned his smile with one of her own as she strode away from him to enter the club, letting her hips sway with her long-legged stride. Take that Eric! She could feel his gaze like a physical touch as she walked up to the club entrance. It wasn’t as if she could flip a switch, and her hormones would turn off. The man was sex on his legs, and she just wanted to give a little back. She could do that without jumping him. After all, all things were good in moderation, right?

The line-up to the club consisted of the beautiful people, and Shawna suppressed a groan. She’d grown out of her ugly-duckling stage many years before, but she still suffered from the trauma of the mean girls, the type of women who could reduce her to tears with their words. Not that they’d ever know. Even in high school, she’d hidden in the girls’ bathroom when she needed a place to retreat.

The music of the club bumped through the shiny blue-black plate glass. Prima was a club Shawna usually would avoid. Too high-profile, and she didn’t have anyone to go with anyways. Well, maybe her best friend Jess. Jess was a great wingman. However, they were coming here night after night because of their job. Shawna put on her best whatever face and raised her head high. Shawna threw her shoulders back and made her way into the line, which was wrapped around the steel divider and formed like a shiny snake through the velvet rope on the sidewalk. Only a few more nights like this, and hopefully, they would close the case. They just needed to find the source of the drug and get evidence on him for a solid case. The DA. wouldn’t take anything less.

She glanced back to where Eric stood on the sidewalk. He threw his keys to the waiting attendant and followed after her. His hand cupped her elbow, and he bent close. Shawna tried not to shy away from his potency.

Follow me.

His low voice did things to her insides that she wouldn’t tell her best friend about. Stepping out of line, Shawna let him lead her by the elbow. Shawna wondered what he was up to, and the other half expected him to put her back in line and go in without her. He normally let her go in by herself. In fact, it was better that way. People didn’t think they were together, and she had a better time getting information when men thought she was single. Eric approached the bouncer at the door with a confident stride. He didn’t even slow down but gave the bouncer a brief nod as another man opened the club door for them.

What are you doing? Shawna cast him a glance under her eyelashes. She caught the briefest of flashes in his deep blue eyes before he focused on the dance floor spread out beneath them. Curiosity ate at her. How did he pull off skipping the line? When did he get in good with the bouncer? But she knew when to keep her mouth shut.

Eric chuckled beside her, and she tried not to let the sound get to her as irritation suddenly ate at her insides. Don’t worry. We can lose each other inside.

The place laid out differently than most, built from an old warehouse that the owner converted into a dance club. They entered onto a balcony that overlooked the dancers below. Lights shot down in the center of the room and illuminated the floor in a smoky blue haze that created shadows and created an unearthly atmosphere. The effect exhilarated her, it always did. She loved music and the deep thrum of a good base beat. She felt her pulse speed up to beat with the throb of the music. Her body wanted to move, and she found herself leaning into Eric.

Oh yeah, she was having a hard time keeping her hands to herself. Shawna’d never had this problem before, but then, her partner had never been someone she wanted to have for dessert. She could think of all kinds of ways she could lick the ice cream from his popcicle stick. She loved a good Magnum bar.

They couldn’t really talk in the club unless they were really close. Eric followed her to the bar but went directly to the other end. He signaled the barkeep with an elegant gesture. The woman came over dressed in a tight black leather corset, jeans, and spiky high heels. Shawna envied her. She might want to wear an outfit like that but would be mortified to be caught dead in it, half-afraid of what people might say. Yes, she was vanilla. She’d never been very adventurous in the bedroom. She’d had a better time with her vibrator. In fact, Shawna couldn’t recall if she’d ever had a real orgasm. She watched the way Eric strode confidently across the club to the V.I.P. section. I bet he could make it happen. Shawna slapped a hand over her face. No, nope, not going there. Problem was, she already had.

She took the martini glass she’d ordered as the bartender handed it to her, and she sipped the tart drink licking salt on the edge, with a flick of her tongue. The same bartender that served Eric gave her a grin and a head nod. Shawna never experimented in college like most of her friends had, but she could see the appeal for some. It just wasn’t her thing. She grinned back and gave the woman a head nod the walked to a small round table with high bar stools. Shawna didn’t think they were likely to find the source tonight, but they might get lucky. It was Friday, and people were out for a good time. She needed to keep her eyes open, even if Eric’s backside was the best sight in the club. The music drew her attention again, and she sipped her drink as she observed the crowd intently for a mark.

Chapter Two

Blue strobe lights and smoke irritated his senses, disorienting him slightly. Eric moved to the back of the club. The private alcoves with gossamer curtains that could be drawn shut for privacy were reserved for V.I.P. guests. At Prima, there was only one type of V.I.P., Vampires, something he’d learned the first night he went to the club with Shawna. It was lined with alcoves that provided a place where his kind could feed in relative safety. He approached the bouncer at the velvet rope. With a flash of his eyes, the man lifted the heavy barricade aside and motioned him through. Eric didn’t know who owned the club, the owner was elusive. Normally, he kept his power locked down. His signature was stronger than most vampires, and distinct, but he was done playing games. If the man didn’t want to make himself known, the Eric would. Ignoring an enforcer was tantamount to death. He knew that news of his coming would soon be spread to the right people within moments when he unleashed his power. Heads turned his way. Eyes widened, and several people got up and left.

One wasn’t supposed to compel humans in public, or really, at all anymore. He’d been there three weeks already. A waste of time, as far as he was concerned. Subtly, wasn’t getting him anywhere. He’d asked to meet with the club owner, but he’d been denied. Admittedly, as an enforcer, he had the ability to shut the club down if anything untoward was happening there. Such as dispensing drugs to the local human population and drawing unwanted attention. As the hammer of the Council, Eric had the right to assign what he deemed to be appropriate judgement.

The paranormal society remained in hiding. They liked it that way, and with so much technology, it was easy to be discovered. They had to be careful. It was better that humans did not know they existed. They didn’t tend to react well when they discovered what was hidden in plain sight. Many of the vampire hunter stories that the humans had were not that far-fetched. Even now, there were those that hunted their kind, believing them to be evil.

Eric picked an alcove not far into the V.I.P. area, intentionally making himself easy to spot. He sat on the plush bench and waited. It wouldn’t be long.

His eyes tracked the people in the bar. Several of his kind littered the room. Their sensual movements gave them away. They occasionally gave him a nervous glance and he ignored them. Eric could read their powerful signatures. Each race gave off a unique signature, and all beings leveled at different strengths depending on their age. Not many vampires were as old as him. Eric learned to mask his power at an early; he had to as an enforcer. It came in handy in moments like these when he wanted to be known, or when he didn’t want others to know how powerful he really was and be intimidated. He tried it the easy way, and he was getting impatient. The council wanted this situation handled yesterday.

There were many vampires who were perfectly acceptable. They lived within the rules and tended to fit in with human society, blending well. On the other hand, they too had riffraff; rogues that went their own way and needed to be handled. Just like every other race. The races mostly policed themselves unless it was a cross-species issue. Then, well, all bets were off.

Eric’s gaze caught a flash of red hair, and the sheen of a deep blue dress encasing legs that begged to be stroked. Shawna. She was a distraction, and temptation he found hard to resist. She didn’t know her own strength. Power radiated off her like fire, waves of orange and gold. He shifted on the plush bench. He’d noticed her signature the first time they met, the night the task force gathered to discuss La Petite Mort. He didn’t know what she was, her signature unlike any other he’d seen, but he promised himself that one day he would find out. For now, she remained off limits. His body wanted to tell him differently, but he controlled himself. If he couldn’t do so after so many years as a vampire, he had no right to call himself one.

His sharp eyes moved around the room, intent. Too much time had passed. He obviously had not made his presence as apparent as he needed to in order to draw attention from the owner. Either that, or the man just didn’t care that a vampire exercised his power in Prima or that the vampire was an enforcer. If that was the case, then they were definitely going to have a problem. His fealty was to the High Council, and they didn’t condone disrespect.

Eric rose in a fluid motion, left the V.I.P. area, and entered the dance floor. The music throbbed and swelled. He began to move in a sensual rhythm to the music, not bothering to hide his power, his thrall–an undeniable call to the females in the room. Sometimes, one had to bend the rules to achieve their goal. He had plenty of practice with just how much one could get away with before they went too far.

A young woman approached. Her eyes glazed over, caught in his thrall. She wore practically nothing; like most of the women here. Her top, a strip of cloth that barely covered her breasts, and a short pleather miniskirt clung to her hips. Dancing so that her small, compact body rubbed against his, her mouth lifted in a way that told him of her interest.

He felt nothing. Only one person could sate his passion now, but he had a point to prove. Eric reached out a hand and drew her close. They swayed together in time to the music, and his head bent to her neck. He smiled inwardly just before his teeth pierced the skin. This would get the owners attention unless the owner was a fool.

The woman gasped, followed a sensual moan of desire. She leaned into him and drug her nails down his back grinding against his groin. He didn’t even stir. One of the benefits of being prey, the endorphins in the venom of a vampire bite, brought about instant and consuming desire. Lucy her. It could be addictive, and some vampires liked to take advantage of the fact that humans found them impossible to resist and drank their victims to the point of death. Not Eric. He’d made the choice long ago to leave his food alive. He drank his fill, ran his tongue gently over the wound, and locked eyes with the woman. By morning, she would remember nothing but having a great time at the club and a need for orange juice with her breakfast. He led her to the bar, deposited her onto a stool, ordered her a mimosa, the sugar would help her, and made his way back to where he’d seen Shawna dancing. If the owners would not make themselves known, then he would not let this night be a total waste.

He looked through the blue haze. Shawna no longer danced where he’d last seen her. In fact, he couldn’t spot her anywhere on the dance floor. Concern ate at him. She may not be human, but she didn’t know that, and she was alone in a club full of vampires. He wanted her in his sight, where she would be protected. Each night he’d made sure she was within sight. He cast out his senses and searched specifically for her. There would be no way he could miss her unique signature.

Shawna made him feel things he thought he would never feel again and contained an irresistible combination of fire and innocence that he found difficult to resist. He didn’t expect to be assigned to a woman, especially not a sexy, long-legged redhead that didn’t know her own power. An unknown, one of the most dangerous things on the planet. He had a duty to discover what she was. Not only for himself, but for the Council. He didn’t want to think it, but she could be a danger to them.

Eric felt a subtle tingle on the edge of his consciousness.

Ah, there. Eric took a step towards the restrooms.

Eric began to move when a hand landed firmly on his shoulder. He spun, ready to defend himself, and instantly broke out in a grin. He’d been so focused on Shawna. He missed a very important signature. One he knew instantaneously.

Armand. Eric instantly embraced his old friend, pleasantly surprised. He’d known Armand since France. It had been too long since they’d seen each other. Armand was more than a friend. He was Eric’s sire. With his Scottish heritage, Eric had run from persecutors in King Henry’s court, and found a friend in the Frenchman. He’d rescued Eric from death when the wound he’d taken in his escape became infected, and in turn gifted him with eternity. His friend looked good. Armand’s hair hung loose about his shoulders, straight and black, catching the cast of blue light in the club, and his eyes shone the same blue as Eric’s own. They could have been brothers in another life, in this one they were merely friends.

Armand grinned at him, his white teeth flashing in the strobe of blue light. Greetings, Eric, long time, too long. Shall we adjourn to the V.I.P. area? Armand spoke quietly, but Eric heard