Read Online Nocturnal Urges (Nocturnal Urges, Book One) by Elizabeth Donald - Free Book Online Page A

coffee. “That was dumb,” she said. “I shouldn’t have said that in front of you. Please, Isabel, don’t repeat that to anyone.”
    “You think Ryan’s the one killing people around Nocturnal Urges,” Isabel said.
    Freitas shrugged. “He could be,” she said. “He lost control with you, and that just does not happen. He’s also been off-duty or at least not with a customer during the approximate time of each murder, he’s at least three hundred years old but we can’t find a background on him in the States and listen to my mouth run.”
    “So why are you telling me all this?” Isabel said.
    Freitas fixed her cop eyes on Isabel, but this time there was the Portuguese grandmother in there as well. “Don’t go back to Nocturnal Urges, Isabel,” she warned. “Don’t go with Caveman the Boyfriend, and certainly don’t go alone.”
    Isabel snickered. “Duane would freak out if he heard you call him that,” she said.
    “I’m serious, Isabel,” Freitas said. “I don’t wanna find you in the alley.”
    “Okay, okay,” Isabel said. “I’m off the biting list for a while anyway.”
    “Good,” Freitas said. “I hope you’re having red meat.”
    Isabel burst out laughing again.
    * * * * *
    Sometimes there were side benefits to Duane’s night shifts, Isabel thought. For one thing, it meant she could play classic rock music in her own apartment without getting the standard Duane eyeroll. The Beatles sang out cheerful lyrics as she folded towels in the living room.
    She carried the stack of towels down the hallway toward the closet. As she passed the front door, a sharp knock made her jump, and the towels spilled onto the floor.
    “Shit,” she said, and peered through the peephole.
    Ryan’s chiseled face appeared in the distorted fisheye view of the peephole.
    Isabel’s heart started beating fast. Quickly she unlocked the door, and there he was, looking out of place in her ordinary hallway. “Miss Nelson,” he said, in that warm baritone voice.
    “Hello,” she said. “What brings you here?”
    Ryan shifted his feet a little. “I just came to see if you were recovering all right,” he said.
    Isabel stepped back to give him room to enter, but he didn’t move. “Oh, of course,” she said. “Please come in.”
    Ryan stared at her a moment, and burst out laughing. It was a rich, rolling laugh, the kind that inspires half-smiles just from hearing it. “Oh, no,” he said, as he attempted to hide it behind his hand. “No, Miss Nelson, we don’t need to be invited in.”
    Isabel felt quite silly, and she knew her face was reddening. “I’m sorry, I don’t know much about…you,” she said, smiling.
    Ryan stepped in, and she gratefully closed the door. “It’s all right. The movies have done ridiculous things to us, and we have done little to change that,” he said.
    “When you hesitated out there, I thought—”
    Ryan nodded. “I was just wondering if your husband was here, and I didn’t want to cause a scene.”
    This time it was Isabel’s turn to laugh. She stifled it as quickly as possible. “Oh no, he’s not my husband,” she said, giggling. “He’s my boyfriend.”
    “Ah. Forgive me,” Ryan said.
    Isabel suddenly felt awkward, standing in her entryway with Ryan. “Please, have a seat,” she said, gesturing to the living room. Ryan inclined his head in an oddly old-fashioned way and walked over to the large white couch.
    Isabel moved over by a huge papasan chair, avoiding sitting on the couch with Ryan. Even in this calm, normal environment, she could feel the electricity around him, as though he were touching her from across the room.
    The silence grew slightly awkward. “Can I offer you something to drink?” Isabel asked, and immediately felt like an idiot. “I mean… Oh dear.”
    Ryan covered his mouth again.
    “You’re laughing at me,” Isabel accused, smiling.
    Ryan shrugged. “I would be quite happy with a soda, if you have them,” he said.
    Isabel