But how could any Kindred act with such callous disregard for a female life? How could any male with Kindred blood in his veins be so cruel—so fucking sadistic?
Stone’s fingers itched to wrap themselves around The Beast’s neck and squeeze. He would be happy to give the sick bastard a taste of his own medicine, as the humans said. He prayed to the Goddess that the guilty male would be at the address they were headed to, with the human who was apparently his manager.
He wanted to make the murderer pay…and pay and pay for what he had done.
Nine
“Stone, before we go in there, you and I need to talk.” Cassie put a hand on her partner’s arm and felt the tension coursing through him like electricity. His big, muscular body was thrumming like a live wire, which worried her. She had never seen the big Kindred this worked up before. He was like a bomb about to blow—but she didn’t need him going off right now.
“There is nothing to talk about.” His deep voice was cold.
“Yes, there is,” Cassie insisted. “We need to talk about what you’re going to do in there!”
She nodded at Frank Yarrow’s house, which was a tony, upscale Greek Revival McMansion, not much smaller than the one they’d just left. Apparently filming porn was a lucrative career.
“What I’m going to do is find out if the bastard who killed that female is in there.” Stone’s voice was little more than a growl.
“And then what?” Cassie demanded. “You going to make him pay?”
A deep, furious rumbling was the only answer she got. More alarmed than ever, she tightened her grip on Stone’s arm—which felt wooden with tension under her fingers.
“Stone, you can’t do that,” she emphasized, frowning up at him. “Remember your training!”
“On my home planet, if a male kills a female, his own life is forfeit,” Stone growled, glaring down at her.
Cassie didn’t often think about their size difference—Stone was always so careful and considerate with her it was easy to forget he was seven feet tall and built like a professional wrestler. But now she felt like a Chihuahua staring down a Malamute—a very angry Malamute. Still, she couldn’t give up. If she let her partner go do whatever he wanted, they were both going to get into trouble.
“Well, you’re not on your home planet—you’re working on Earth now!” she reminded him sternly. “We’re not here to rip the guy’s head off, as much as he might deserve it. We have to take him in and book him—you know that. Stone…Stone, look at me!” she demanded, when he glared out the window at the house. Reluctantly, he looked back at her. “You know that,” Cassie said again, frowning at her partner. “Come on—talk to me.”
At last, Stone nodded.
“I know we are not here for vengeance,” he said at last. “But the way he killed her and then left her hanging there, as though she was nothing but a piece of garbage he had used…”
“I know, he’s a sick bastard,” Cassie said calmly. “I saw the crime scene too. But we see them every day.”
“Not female victims.” Stone’s deep voice was hoarse with fury. “We don’t see crime scenes with female victims.”
“No, and I’m glad we don’t if you can’t handle it any better than this,” Cassie said sharply. She knew what she said would cut her partner, but she needed Stone to get hold of himself before they went to Yarrow’s door.
She could tell her words had hit home because for a moment Stone looked stricken.
“All right,” he said at last. “I will contain my anger.”
“Good. Thank you.” Cassie took her hand off his arm. “Now come on and maybe you’d better let me do the talking.”
Stone gave a short, stiff nod.
“Agreed.”
“Good. Then let’s go.”
Ten
Cassie knocked on the elaborately carved front door and, after a moment, it swung open revealing a hulking guy in a muscle shirt that showed impressive biceps and two full sleeves of tattoos. He was mid-to-late twenties, with buzz-cut black stubble on both his head and his chin, Cassie’s cop brain noted. Also, one silver tooth in front, which showed when he snarled,
“Whaddaya want?”
The hired muscle was over six and a half feet tall and would have been intimidating if Cassie hadn’t had Stone at her back. As it was, she simply pulled out her badge and showed it to the thug.
“I’m here to speak to Frank Yarrow,” she said calmly.
“Not without a warrant you’re not!” The thug tried to slam the door in her face, but Stone caught it with one hand and forced it back open.
Yarrow’s hired muscle, who was holding the heavy wooden door with both hands and leaning all his considerable weight against it to close it, looked up at Stone with a mixture of fury and disbelief.