Sex and the Single Vamp by Robin Covington Page A

had been removed from every surface; it looked like a perverse dark-dust-covered shell of what it had been—the private hideaway of married lovers.
    Deacon slipped his phone out of his pocket and thumbed the screen, tapping until he brought up an image on the display.
    “Here’s a panoramic shot of the crime scene before they took all the stuff to the crime lab.” He tilted the screen toward her so she could see the room in detail, down to the grotesque coupling of Maria and Strauss on the bed. She flinched and he knew it wasn’t any easier to see it the second time.
    “How did you get that?” she asked, sliding her finger across the screen to see the whole picture.
    “I hacked into the police database. I have every file, photo, and note in real time as they add it to the system.” He couldn’t help the grin that took over his face. It was a really great hack. “Cool, huh?”
    “Illegal is more like it.”
    “Only if they catch me.”
    “Nice.” She rolled her eyes. “I’ll slip a file into your cake when you get sent to the pokey.”
    “What about a fruit and chocolate basket?
    “What?” she asked, baffled by this turn in the conversation.
    “I want a basket just like the one you sent to Maria and Strauss.” On the screen, he pointed to a large basket sitting on a side table in their room, next to the bed. It had fruit overflowing, a huge box of chocolates, and champagne. It was as clear as the stunned expression on her face—she’d never seen it before in her life.
    “I didn’t send them a basket.”
    “The cops say you did.”
    “I didn’t.” She shook her head, backing away from him as if the phone were a ticking bomb. “I didn’t send them that basket.”
    “Good, because it’s the murder weapon. Well, the chocolates are.”
    She waved her hand in front of him, making the “keep going” motion when he paused. He scanned the incoming report from Andy, eyes tracking down the screen, his gut clenching as he processed the information. Finished, he raised his eyes to her, not wanting to share this brutal death with her. “The chocolates were injected with insulin. Your friends were poisoned.”
    Cici’s mouth fell open, her lips trying to form words. He knew what she wanted to know, what she had to know.
    “It was quick, but it wasn’t easy. They had each other to the end, though.”
    He didn’t know why the fuck he said that last part, but the look of pain that flashed across her face when she heard about the way her friends had died had reached in, grabbed his balls, and twisted them around. It was the only words of comfort he could offer her. Deacon felt a little ill, and a lot of hatred for the sick fuck who brought this to her doorstep. It burned like a bonfire in his chest. When he killed him, he’d remember this moment and never hesitate.
    “You’re going to catch them, right?” Cici’s eyes flashed with the anger that was quickly overcoming her pain. It worked for him—stay furious and you didn’t hurt. “You’ll make them pay, right, Deacon?”
    He nodded.
    She stepped forward, grasping his shirt with both hands, her long nails scraping his skin through the fabric. Her eyes were flashing a dark, ominous blue.
    “I mean it. Don’t let the cops get them and let them off on some stupid plea.” She stood up on tiptoe, eyeball to eyeball with him. “Make them suffer. Promise me.”
    He didn’t hesitate. If Cici wanted it, it was done.
    “I promise.”
    She released him, stepping away and turning so he couldn’t see her face. He let her have the moment, watching as her shoulders relaxed a little as she calmed her emotions. Their kind was passionate—quickly riled and just as quickly brought down—but the fury, the emotion, lingered in their blood and was never forgotten. The vampire part of her was pissed and the murderer should be wishing that Deacon got to him first.
    Deacon scanned other reports, photographs, and compared them to the scene. Andy was expertly